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Masterlists for Series
Guns For Hire: Leo’s life is turned upside down when he sees his boss getting murdered. What’s worse, was that he witnessed the mercenary behind the hit taking off his mask, and saw his face. Leo promises not to go to the police with his identity, but the mercenary decides it’s not worth letting him go · complete
Ileana’s Girls: With the world taken over by superior creatures, vampires, humans have little to no purpose in the world other than to serve as food for their stronger and more powerful rulers. Three strangers, all subjected to the cruel nature of vampires, have inevitably combined fates when they individually catch the eye of pureblood vampire Ileana Mavros. In a world of such disparity, their lives find room for what was thought to be lost — comfort, kindness, healing, and most importantly, love · ongoing spin off of royal bought
The Facility: Noah works as one of the scientists at an underground facility secretly funded by the government. They store prisoners of war, using them, hurting them, torturing them, and noah has to turn a blind eye to the horrible pain they endure, as well as be complicit. When a mass breakout happens, Noah’s patient comes to pay him a little visit · ongoing
Royal Bought: Growing up in a distant camp away from vampire civilisation, Luke has lived a life of constant fear and the unknown. When a vampire is thrown into his path under alarming circumstances after threatening somebody he cares deeply about, Luke is carted away to the kingdom and prepared to be bought and sold at one of their famous auctions; by none other than a Royal · ongoing
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After Leo had taken the time to explain his situation to him, Remy had scarcely responded.
“Sucks to be you,” he’d merely sighed, resting his chin in his hand. The two of them had taken a seat against the wall, knees pulled to their chests. Leo picked anxiously at a thread on his leg.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen another person besides Roy, especially not one in a similar position to him. He was trying to prod for information, but Remy seemed like a hard egg to crack. His eyes were constantly narrowed, glaring at the basement door like he could will it open.
Leo bit his lip, feeling a bit miffed after all the talking he’d done.
“We’re in the same position,” he murmured, rubbing at his arms. He didn’t want to sour Remy’s mood anymore than it already was, and he was a little surprised to see such an unexpected reaction instead. Remy hadn’t even said anything, but his jaw tightened visibly and his eyes darted away. Leo blinked, tilting his head.
“Aren’t we?”
The orange haired boy remained silent until he groaned in frustration, running his hands over his hair again.
“I, I don’t know!” He snapped, nibbling on his nail. “It’s complicated.”
Leo frowned, unsure how to feel. Maybe it was because he simply didn’t want to be alone, the time he had taken to just talk to Remy soothing his racing mind something he clung onto. But he knew, realistically, there might never be an opportunity to have a helping hand.
He let Remy stew in his small outburst, clearly pondering over something he didn’t want to say. The blond gave him space, glancing at a spot on the ground.
“You want to get out, right?” He asked, sensing Remy look at him. “Don’t you?”
He swallowed, letting his legs drop, stretching out in front of him. He didn’t verbally answer, but he didn’t need to. It had shattered the stubborn pride just enough for him to finally open up.
“My older brother is involved in this kind of stuff,” he muttered, expression tightening and his voice thick with bitterness. “He’s an idiot. But something happened, and—”
Remy sighed in frustration. “I got involved with someone I shouldn’t. Not by choice, not really. I don’t even know exactly what...” He paused, as ig contemplating even saying his name. “...Roy has to do with this. But I know it has something to do with my brother.”
Leo’s chest squeezed in sympathy. “Do you think he’s going to...?”
He didn’t dare say.
“Kill me?” Remy finished, his nose scrunching as he shot Leo a dark glare. “If he, or somebody else wanted me dead, I would be. Do you think either of us would be stuck down here in this shit hole if they were just planning on killing us? Fucking stupid.”
The words stung, sensing the hostility again.
The blond decided the glass had smoothed back over, and didn’t prod. They sat in silence until, after what felt like hours, the basement door screeched open. Both their head shot up.
Roy still looked like he was in a foul mood. His eyes were unusually callous, landing on Leo with a suffocating weight. He quickly strode over, fingers digging into the top of Leo’s arm.
With a rough yank, he was staggering on his feet, a sharp cry of pain escaping his lips.
“Move,” Roy ordered, his voice cold and sharp. Tears stung his eyes as his shoulders came up to his ears, the gloved fingers pressing uncomfortably hard into flesh, bruising. He swung him to the door.
The last thing Leo expected was for the dragging to cease. Fiery orange hair appeared before him; Remy had shot to his feet, and shoved between the two of them with all of his might.
“Let go of him,” he demanded, fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt. He rammed his shoulder into his front, trying to dislodge his grasp. Remy was just half an inch shorter than Leo, and certainly didn’t have enough weight to stagger Roy. But he made up for it with fiery aggression, face twisted in anger.
“What gives you the right to grab him like that?” He snarled, his teeth bared. “He’s not sack of flour you can hurl around. Let go, now.”
Leo’s eyes had widened in shock, gawking at Remy in both horror and shock. One because he wasn’t quite sure how Roy would react, and because he had been sure he didn’t even like him enough to risk their captors wrath.
The outcome was a predictable one. Roy easily swatted Remy away like he was nothing, who stumbled and caught himself on the wall with a thud. The mercenary’s silence was the worst thing, and Leo could feel his nerves clogging in his throat.
Despite the fact that his grip had eased just a fraction, he continued to guide him to the basement door.
Remy growled. “Sick fuck.”
Leo glanced anxiously behind him, and although the orange haired boys hands twitched with unease, he still stood ramrod straight, and with no regrets for standing up for him, even if in vain. He swallowed, a flicker of something in his gut.
He only thought one thing, and that was how he wished he would be able to see Remy again.
“This is okay. I’m okay. My name is Leo. I live in London. My father is Sebastian Whitlock. My favourite musician is Joseph Bologne. This is okay. I’m okay. My name is—”
The words were a constant chant, whispered from his lips as he lay curled in the corner of the room. His back pressed hard against the concrete walls, legs drawn tight to his chest as he scrunched his eyes shut. Leo’s fingers dug into his thighs, desperate to ground himself from his rising panic.
The familiar setting of the basement always made him hysterical.
If he got too far in his own head, the horrific memories would start to burn away at him, old scars flaring like fire. Roy never starved him down here, but the tension in his brow was apparent. After he tried to fashion a shiv with the bathroom razor—(stupid, what was he even thinking?)—the mercenary had decided that a night back into the dingy basement would be punishment enough.
He hadn’t really seemed to care all that much, but threw him down here simply on principle.
Leo gulped in a shuddering breath, fighting for rationality.
“This is fine,” he whispered to the empty room again, his eyes fluttering open. Through blond hair, he finally peered around the room. “It just feels longer. He’ll take me out soon. You can do this.”
The door suddenly rocked open. Leo had moved to the side of the room before it happened, trying to adjust, his head snapping towards the sound. Frantic eyes instead watched as an unfamiliar body was shoved into the room, slamming onto the ground in a wriggling heap. He screaming between the gag, arms twisted uncomfortably behind his back.
Leo stared. His wide eyes flickered to Roy hovering in the doorway, expression twisted grimly. He caught Leo’s gaze, but didn’t flash a smirk. He’s pissed, he realised, swallowing hard. **Instead, the basement door squealed as he pulled it shut, the slam reverberating through the room.
Fear prickled at his chest, but he squashed it down.
Slowly rising to his feet, Leo cautiously stepped over to the new body. His hair was a fiery orange, with dark brown eyes that seemed to land on him with contempt. There was an already dark red mark on his cheek and blood had soaked into the white rag from a split lip and bleeding nose. Leo’s fingers began to unfasten the ropes, but it was a bit difficult with the boy’s struggling.
Once he was finally freed, two frantic hands shoved hard at his chest. Leo huffed, staggering backwards until he promptly hit the ground on his back. His head shot up, face scrunching in confusion.
“Stop,” he gasped, pushing himself up with a frown of disbelief. “I’m trying to help.”
The boy, who’d been scrambling backwards, looked ready for a fight. But upon seeing the sincerity and confusion in Leo’s eyes, and taking just a second to pierce through the haze of adrenaline, he softened just an inch.
He tugged sharply at his gag, trying to dig his fingers into the harsh material. Leo cautiously crept closer, and when the orange haired boy showed no signs of shoving him again, he helped untie the gag from the knot at the back.
Once free, the boy whirled around to face him.
“I’m sorry, I thought—” He didn’t even pause to take a breath, running an aggressive hand through his hair. He was twitching, eyes fleeting around the place. “Jesus, I don’t know, that the freak was handing me off to you or—damn it, just shut up.”
Leo blinked. “I, I didn’t—”
“He’s keeping you here too?” The orange haired boy grilled, pacing up and down the length of the basement. Before he could open his mouth to answer, the boy continued to rattle of nervous rambles. “I don’t even know how he—fuck, I couldn’t even do anything, I tried, but he had a solution for everything, the freak.”
“Roy,” Leo interjected softly. He wrung his fingers. “His name is Roy.”
The boy shot him a glare. “I don’t care what he’s called. I care about getting the fuck out of here. I’m not dying in some, some ugly basement.”
His fingers tugged incessantly at his hair, dropping into a crouch with a frustrated shout. Leo’s mind was whirling. Who was he? And why had Roy brought him here? Whatever the reason once, it must have justified the foul expression on the mercenary’s face when he’d dumped him in here. Was this a contract?
Leo snapped out of his thoughts, watching wearily as the boy scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration, before wincing and thinking better of it with the sore mark on his cheek. He hesitantly held out his hand. The boy glanced at it, before his cat-like eyes snapped up to him suspiciously.
After reasoning with himself, he turned up his nose. A second later, he took Leo’s hand, who eased him upright.
“My name’s Leo.”
The orange haired boy tilted his head, before his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m Remy.”
A dull, throbbing sensation bloomed against the side of Noah’s skull, rousing from unconsciousness groggily. Blurry colours popped in his vision, a muffled groan escaping his lips. He became acutely aware of fabric digging uncomfortably into the corners of his mouth. That was right - the breakout. The moment realisation pierced through his hazy brain, a pang of fear settled in his stomach.
He strained against unseen restraints, a muffled groan escaping past the obstruction in his mouth. Light stabbed at his eyes, fractured into blinding shards of white and yellow. He could feel the sluggish pulse of blood in his extremities, the pins and needles a testament to his apparent prolonged immobility. He was lying on his side, he realised. How long had he been out? Time had become a meaningless void, swallowed by the chaos of what he’d seen.
Kicking his stiff limbs into action, he lazily rolled onto his back, shaking off the last vestiges of haziness in his vision. He noticed a body, no, two, to his right, crinkled eyes squinting to get a better look at them. One was an Apoid, if their signature uniform was anything to go by - helmet discarded on the ground in a mess of shattered glass and rigged cracks. They were restrained. Wrists linked by metal cuffs from the ceiling, stretching their arms high above their head. Their face, with curly hair and closed eyes, hung limply.
Then he saw him.
Standing in the periphery of his vision, a dark silhouette against the harsh glare of the emergency lights. Cash. Even without seeing his face clearly, Noah felt the familiar icy grip of terror clench his gut. He was angled just so, as if deliberately presenting himself, a silent victor surveying his spoils.
“Finally decided to join the party, doc?” He hummed, his lips curling into a smug grin. His words pierced through Noah’s foggy brain uncomfortably, and his throat tightened with a whine. He took a step closer to the suspended figure, his attention momentarily diverted. He reached out, his hand closing around his, tilting his head back. The glint of metal flashed in the harsh light - a syringe. Noah’s breath hitched. The prisoner smoothly inserted the needle into the side of the Apoid’s neck. A small, involuntary groan escaped him, a subtle tightening of the brow. Recognition, sharp and unwelcome, pierced Noah’s fear-addled mind - Fionn. It had to be.
Cash withdrew the syringe, a smug smile playing on his lips as he turned back to Noah. “Bit of a rough wake-up call for you, wasn’t it? Hit you harder than I intended. Lights out like a switch.”
Noah’s shaking fingers lifted for the gag, rope digging uncomfortably into his bound wrists. He must have been wriggling in his sleep, because the skin was already welted and swollen. Cash laughed, like it was funny, and prowled towards him with a soft coo.
“None of that, come on,” he reprimanded, circling a finger through the ropes and jerking his wrists above his head. Noah gave a muffled yelp through the gag, pain shooting through his joints with a stinging vigour. The prisoner knelt over his form, eyes roving appreciatively over what he could see. Noah’s chest heaved, his eyes wide and feverish. Thoughts ravaged through his mind.
Thoughts of everything Cash could, and probably would, do to him. Thoughts of the scientist before him, who he had killed with no remorse for the things that they put him through. He’d been a simple worker on a higher level - Noah didn’t do these kinds of things. He considered himself to be good. He had no choice.
It’s what he repeated like a mantra in his head, over and over. Even when he spent nights working tirelessly in the lab, brewing concoctions to test out on Cash. His nose buried in his notes, chemical flasks, the smell of chemistry brewing in the air like smoke. Now, all he could smell was the stench of blood, the grim reminder of corpses sprawled haphazardly in the corridors like webs of death.
And Noah would join them, soon. Not rained down in a spray of bullets, not bludgeoned over the head with a blunt object. But tortured, diminished of his own autonomy and sanity before the mercy of death put him down forever. The sting of tears welled in his eyes, and Cash smiled.
His ran the knuckle of his thumb over his nose, his cheek, admiring the instinctive flinch from the scientist. There was something predatory glinting in his eyes, something that made bile sting the back of his throat like acid.
Noah forced his gaze away, drifting longingly to Fionn. Dangerous thoughts crept into his mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder, was it his fault that he was here? Cash’s fingers tightened around his wrists, a glimmer of mirth in the depth’s of his eyes. His smile had vanished.
“Look at me,” he ordered, the sternness in his tone forcing Noah’s eyes to snap right back to him. The prisoner’s lip curled into a sneer. “Pathetic.”
His fingers nimbly reached into the pocket of the Apoid jacket he was wearing, Fionn’s uniform, flicking out the easily recognisable shape of a small knife. Noah whimpered, scrunching his eyes shut as the edge ghosted across his face, cutting away the taut gag around his mouth. His eyes instantly flew open and he sucked in a choked gasp, the creases of his mouth stinging from chaffing.
“Cash—”
“If you’re going to beg, be my guest,” the prisoner grinned. “Just know it ain’t gonna change a thing. It’s like music to my ears.”
Noah’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, cringing at the foul taste of copper that was left behind. Now that his tongue was loose to speak, he couldn’t think of anything to say. Fear had completely paralysed him, staring up at the large, looming figure hovering over him.
He swallowed uneasily. “Please.” His voice barely came out as a whisper, tear sliding down the length of his cheek. “Why not just run like everybody else? They’ll never be another chance. The Apoids, the army, they’ll—”
“Catch me?” Cash tilted his head, his voice mocking. “Doc, you’re so stupid.”
He tapped the flat side of the knife against his cheek, and Noah flinched violently.
“Anyone who runs is a goner, they’ll just gun ‘em straight down the second they even make it to the surface. Prisoners are a lost cause after that,” he explained, leaning forward to stab the knife through the tough ropes. He felt them momentarily fray, and then give out, but Cash’s grasp was unrelenting. “I stay down here, they take me alive. Sure, I gotta stay in this place ‘til the foreseeable future, but right now?”
Cash loomed over his face, drinking in the frightened expression on the scientists pale face. “I get to do whatever I want.”
The words sent a dreadful shiver down Noah’s spine, all the blood in his veins turning to ice. He opened his mouth to plea, to beg, because it was all he could do.
“Please, Cash,” he choked, his bottom lip wobbling. “Please, I—”
The prisoner’s hand slapped against the side of his face—hard—and a squeak left his throat. Numbness spread through his cheek, followed by the sickeningly familiar taste of blood welling from his split lip. His vision swam.
“Keep talking,” Cash growled.
Noah’s chest heaved, each breath a ragged, painful gasp. His throat constricted, like a physical hand squeezing the air from his lungs. He winced as the throbbing in his cheek intensified, the metallic tang of blood coating his tongue. The silence he adopted only seemed to only fuel Cash’s cruel amusement. Another sharp slap landed on his other cheek, even harder than the first, enough to make his head snap to the side and a strangled cry escape his lips.
“No, really,” the prisoner murmured, a cruel smile playing on the edges of his lips. “Keep talking, doc. I like it.”
He’s insane, Noah thought wildly, but another swift slap had pleas falling from his lip before he could stop himself.
“Don’t, Cash, please.” Another blow landed, this time a backhand that sent a fresh wave of agony through his face. The warmth of blood spread further across his tongue, thick and cloying. “Please…”
Cash seemed to relish in the crack of skin on skin, the way Noah’s cheek inflamed with a sore redness. He watched with a detached fascination as a trickle of blood escaped Noah’s split lip, snaking down his chin and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. And through it all, he kept begging. The prisoner dug his fingers into Noah’s cheeks, puckering his lips up. The scientist groaned weakly, body wracked with a sickly, clammy sweat, and ragged breaths.
“There’s a good boy,” he cooed, backing off from the floor and jerking Noah up with him by the collar. The scientist’s head swam mercilessly, his bottom lip pulsating with a painful sting that had the flesh quivering. He staggered to his feet, legs stiff and uncooperative. Had it not been for Cash’s fingers twisted roughly in his collar, he might not have been able to stand right.
The prisoner was even more terrifying like this; stretched impossibly tall, like he was twice the size of him. Noah had to remind himself to breathe through the pain, even as a relentless onslaught of tears slid down his cheeks once more.
“Look at the mess you’ve made,” Cash said, his tone shifting to one of mock disappointment. His thumb traced a smear of blood on Noah’s lab coat, as if attempting to wipe it away. Then, his eyes flickered with a disturbing coyness. He adjusted Noah’s collar with a delicate gesture before stepping back, granting a sliver of space that offered no real comfort. “Take it off.”
Noah’s heart stuttered, a trapped bird fluttering against his ribs. “What?” The single word was a dry rasp in his throat.
“You’re not hard of hearing,” he grinned, his expression predatory as it flicked down his body. “You heard me. Take it off. All of it.”
His fingers trembled by his side, clumsy and uncoordinated. The seed of dread that had taken root in his stomach now sent icy tendrils through his limbs, leaving a residue of nausea. The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled, each one a tiny alarm bell ringing in his ears, accompanied by a sickening, clammy sweat that slicked his forehead. He fought for purchase on a breath that seemed determined to remain just out of reach.
“All…?” Noah’s eyes darted to Fionn, almost as though he was sending out a silent plea for help.
Hopelessness made his head spin wildly, a flurry of black dots crawling along the edges of his vision, threatening to consume him. The numbing pulse in his cheek throbbed in time with the frantic beat of his heart, wide eyes taking in the way the Apoid’s dark hair tickled his forehead. A sharp thud from ahead yanked his wavering gaze back to Cash, who’d moved with a fluid grace to perch on the edge of the desk. He threw one leg over the other languidly, leaning back on his knuckles. His lips curved into a knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his narrowed, calculated eyes.
He wanted his undivided attention, clearly.
“I wouldn’t keep me waiting,” Cash murmured, his voice losing its playful edge, sharpening into a threat that brooked no argument. He tapped the knife against thumb absentmindedly, a metallic click echoing in the tense silence. “Unless you’d prefer I use this to expedite the process?” His eyes turned wolfish, a glint of anticipation in their cold depths. “I have no qualms.”
Noah’s bottom lip shivered in an attempt to say something, but he couldn’t. He tried to form a protest, a plea, but his vocal chords seemed frozen. He hadn’t even registered the way his own fingers had twisted into the collar of his lab coat until his numb hand fumbled with the fabric, tugging it off his shoulders. The material rasped against his skin. His wide, teary eyes fixated on a meaningless point on the grimy floor, a desperate attempt to find some anchor in the swirling chaos of fear. As he worked, each movement jerky and mechanical, Noah wondered to himself how his sister was doing.
Maybe she was being showered in gifts, her hospital room a riot of vibrant flowers — pinks, yellows, oranges. All her favourite colours. The money funnelled from his contract within the Facility attributing graciously to her recovery. Perhaps, right now, she was even better. Waiting for him in their apartment, her pretty smile back on her face and that glimmer of life returned to her eyes.
Another article of clothing pooled by his feet, and Noah hesitated, breath catching in his throat. His shaking fingers, clumsy with fear, worried at the hem of his shirt. His eyes flickered nervously towards Fionn. He’d made a noise. A drugged filled murmur, stirring uncomfortably in the chains that bound him.
Cash’s expression seemed to fill with mirth, slamming the knife onto the table with a loud clang. The scientist flinched violently.
“Why are you looking at him?” His voice stirred something dreadful within Noah’s gut. He instinctively tugged his shirt down, a futile gesture of modesty. The burn of humiliation raced down every notch of his spine now that he was fully aware of Cash’s eager eyes, and Fionn’s slumped presence to his right. He felt exposed, vulnerable, crushed under the gruelling weight of indignity.
“I didn’t mean…” He licked his lips, throat parched. “What did you inject him with?”
“Sedative,” Cash answered curtly, his eyes having seemingly found something he was interested in a lot more. They trailed up the expanse of Noah’s thighs, no area of flesh left untouched with his gaze. Goosebumps erupted on Noah’s skin, a cold wave of shame washing over his flushed face. “Why? Do you wish it wasn’t?”
“No,” Noah stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He instinctively recoiled when Cash slid off the table, the harsh scrape of his boots against the concrete floor sending another jolt of fear through him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, I—”
Before he could finish, a rough hand clamped onto the back of his neck. He was steered roughly towards the restrained Apoid, his own legs tangling with each other in his panic. He was shoved hard against Fionn’s front, his flailing fingers scrabbling for purchase against the rough fabric of the uniform. Fionn made a slurred, grunting noise, the impact causing his heavy eyelids to crack open for a fleeting moment. He seemed to struggle through the thick fog of the sedative, his unfocused eyes squinting lazily before his head lolled to the side once more.
Noah went to catch his bearings, but Cash’s fingers pinched the back of his neck so hard, he couldn’t stand straight. His hips pressed insistently against the crevice of his ass, and Noah choked on a terrified whimper.
“I didn’t want to do any of it,” he protested weakly, squashed between Cash’s hips and Fionn’s body. He was warm, his thoughts croaked. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Yeah?” The prisoner drawled dismissively, his attention fixed on the far more interesting view at his hips. The metallic jingle of Cash’s belt buckle echoed in the small space, followed by the soft, sliding sound of leather being drawn, a sound that seemed to physically enclose the room around him.
“Cash, please…” He whimpered, his head tilting back as he desperately stared at Fionn’s face. The Apoid was fighting through the haze, his head bobbing with each attempt to keep it up, an echo of clarity hiding in the haze of his eyes, vanishing and appearing. He made a small, choked sound sound. He was aware, but helpless. Tears sprang into Noah’s eyes, soaking into the Apoid’s uniform.
Cash’s fingers dug into the flesh of his hip, moving over the flesh until he was pressing down insistently on the small of his back. Noah made a small, involuntary sound of discomfort, and Cash’s half lidded eyes gleamed with a sadistic pleasure.
“Thought about this when I got out of them cuffs, you know,” he drawled, the baritone of his voice making Noah quiver. “You should see what you look like from back here.” He whistled lowly, a sound of crude appreciation. “Bet your friend would love it, too. I know I do.”
A tremor ran through Noah’s body, a violent shudder. He squeezed his eyes shut, a futile attempt to block out the horrifying reality of Cash’s proximity, the suffocating presence of Fionn’s unconscious form against his front.
“Open your eyes, doc,” Cash’s voice was a low growl against his ear, laced with a possessive hunger that made bile rise in Noah’s throat. “Look at your friend. He’s going to enjoy the show.”
THIS IS PART OF A PAID (NSFW) COMMISSION - please visit my kofi to commission works like this (sfw & nsfw), or leave a tip! Here's a snippet of the ending:
The cart gave a harsh bump, dragging Lillia from the groggy unconsciousness that had gripped her. Her sleep had been broken, restless, a useless feat amongst the chilling cold that gripped her muscles and soaked her little dress.
The rest of the children were in similar states, the exhaustion and gruelling journey having lasted two sun rises. The bump had dragged everybody to a hazy wakefulness, frightened eyes blinking in confusion.
Lillia swallowed, her throat bobbing as the lock of the cart screeched open.
The sound grated against her ears like nails on a chalkboard, the only other sound apart from snivelling, soft cries, and hushed whispers she had heard for many gruelling hours. The little girl squinted as the sunlight spilled into the cart with harsh rays, stinging her already bloodshot eyes.
She felt Eddie cower closer to her, one of those monsters urging the children closest out of the cart. Some that took too long were jerked by their arm, the haste an underlying threat.
Lillia urged herself on, stiff limbs uncurling as she fell in step behind the gaggle of other children. Her breathing quickened as she drew closer, Eddie’s fingers grasped tightly in her hand.
She was tugged out of the cart, and a firm hand on her shoulder pushed her towards the other girls. Lillia gasped, her head snapping around as her fingers slipped from Eddie’s grip. He had been pushed the other way, into the separated gang of boys, and she could only cling onto the sight of his wide eyes before he was swallowed up by the children behind them.
Lillia stood on her tiptoes, desperate to seek out her friend, but another monster at the head of her group, a woman, ushered them away. She swallowed down a whine.
Pattering footsteps filled the path as they were lead into a huge industrial building; Lillia had never seen anything like it - the assortment of arched windows, doors, the sheer scale of it. The boys were lead further down, to an adjacent building. Theirs was marked ‘Sector B1’, whereas hers was marked ‘Sector G1’.
She was unsure what those words meant.
As they entered the building, Lillia fiddled anxiously with her dress. The size of this place was intimidating, the corridors lined with paintings and text she couldn’t quite discern. The vampire lady at the head of the group paused, and turned to face them.
Everybody seemed to stiffen, and go still, including the little girl.
“You’re all property of the Institution now,” she smiled, all sharp teeth and fangs that made the children vibrate with nerves. “There is nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be educated here, in all the ways a good human should. And eventually, when you’re older, you’ll be rehomed. Doesn’t that sound delightful?”
The vampire was pale, with long, braided blonde hair that fell gracefully over her shoulder. She seemed to stretch impossibly tall over all of them, like one of those winding trees on the outskirts of her village. Her eyes gleamed a dull red, narrowed and as sharp as a knife. She seemed to be assessing each and every frightened face that stared up at her, pinpointing one and then onto the other.
When she reached Lillia, she cowered slightly. All she could think about was the gleaming red eyes protruding in the darkness, a glowing reminder of the monsters that had torn through her village like a raging storm, like wordless animals.
“There are plenty of facilities for you all to feel comfortable,” she continued, motioning around her to the grand, opulent building. Glittering balls of light glowed from above them, and Lillia’s nose scrunched in wonder. It didn’t seem to be on fire. How was it emanating such light? “Shared sleeping quarters, a cafeteria, classrooms, and plenty of outdoors for your physical health.”
She wanted to go back to the village. She didn’t want to stay here.
“Come,” the vampire motioned for the stairs, her lithe form moving as though she didn’t even touch the ground. An agility that made Lillia feel quite twitchy with nerves. If one of the kids got scared, wanted to run away from it all, there would be nothing that they could do to escape her observant eyes and inhuman speed.
The orange rays of the sun leaked through the windows as they climbed flights of stairs, soaking into her dirty, tear soaked face with each gruelling step. A few children lagged behind, their solemn faces crinkled with flashes of pain. But it seemed like the vampire had a keen eye on every girl, assuring she made it to the top floor with little issue. A large, circular window greeted them, and two long corridors flanked ominously on either side.
The blonde vampire took them to the left, stopping gracefully in her tracks. She whirled around to face them, and Lillia gasped softly when a girl bumped into her from behind. She glanced over her shoulder, the short brunette cowering slightly under her gaze. She was cradling her arm, a glimmer of blood peeking out from under her tattered sleeve. Lillia’s eyes softened, and she turned back to the vampire as her voice filled the quiet space.
“Bathroom facilities stair side,” she informed, and then gestured to the other side. “Bedrooms to the window side.”
Eyes blinked up at the doors.
“You sleep at 10PM and you wake at 6AM, no earlier, no later,” the vampire explained firmly. “You’ll be educated on your superiors and the life you’ll live for them. You will be fed here, clothed, and provided for. You’re all serving a higher purpose.”
Her expression turned mocking. “No need to look so sad.”
The little girl barely glanced down at her clothes, her muddy dress making her chest squeeze with a flurry of emotions. She couldn’t stop thinking about how upset her ma would be if she realised her dress was dirty again. She really liked this dress.
“As girls, you’ll remain desirable as long as you excel in cooking, cleaning, and other services,” the vampire smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. The little girl wondered what she meant by ‘other services’. “But in this sector, your education is your primary focus. You refer to your superiors, like me, as either sir, or ma’am. Your lords and ladies, my lord or my lady. Don’t worry so much, these will become second nature to you.”
Lillia’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t keep up with what she was saying, desperately trying to retain the information being tossed at her so casually. It surged into her racing thoughts, before becoming muddled and useless. She blindly followed the vampire’s movements as she waved her hand, and one of the bedroom doors clicked open.
The little girl gawked at the display of power.
Another girl, clad in a grey dress and pinned back hair, was waiting patiently, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed politely.
“Ma’am,” she greeted, keeping her head inclined. Lillia stared; this girl looked only a few years older than her, still baby faced and small, but so well behaved. The vampire smiled again.
“Delilah. See that you and the other representative’s clean them and provide them fresh clothes before breakfast.”
Delilah nodded sweetly, her shoes tapping against the floorboards as she crossed the corridor to the bathroom, popping the door open for the girls. She ushered half of them in, greeting everybody with a warm face as they entered.
As Lillia went to move into the bathroom, the vampire stopped her.
“The rest of you to the other side,” she ordered, spinning the little girl by her shoulder and urging her forward. Her feet skittered along the floor nervously, the rest of the group crossing into the other hallway. Another girl in a grey dress was waiting by the other set of bathrooms, guiding them inside.
Lillia glanced nervously behind her, noting that the vampire was gone. Her bones shuddered a sigh of relief. Other human girls greeted them, and groggy from the restless journey, she allowed herself to be herded to one of the baths. Some girls had to share, but Lillia was lucky enough to get one by herself.
The girl at the door ran her bath with warm water, folding some fresh clothes on a tall chair with a towel for her.
“My name is Dol,” she introduced politely. She had dark black hair that reminded her of her ma’s eyes, which fell in a short wave under her chin. She, too, looked the same age as the girl from before. Some of them looked various ages, but no older than eleven, Lillia sumised.
“I’m the lead representative of this ward, so please feel free to come to me if you need,” Dol smiled, encouraging the girl to remove her dress. Lillia stared at her with big eyes.
“But…” Her hoarse words trailed off like sand slipping through a crevice, her nose wrinkling in sadness. Dol’s eyes softened with sympathy.
“I know,” she whispered, leaning down to stop the flow of water. She tested the warmth with her hand, satisfied with the outcome. “It won’t be returned to you. I was sad, too, when I was first brought here. But I’m afraid it’s filthy, and you need to be washed.”
Lillia clutched her dress, shaking fingers digging into the muddy fabric. She opened her mouth to retort, to cry, to scream, but she couldn’t. Weariness had settled so deep in her bones, that a harrowing tiredness made her too numb to do anything.
So she stripped out of her clothes, slipping into the bathtub with a little sniffle. She felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks, her chin all tense and her nose wrinkled as she feebly tried to keep them at bay.
Dol nudged her cheek tenderly, and got to work on washing her. The older girls fell into a unified rhythm, lathering them with strong smelling liquids that frothed in their hair.
Dol worked vigoursly to untangle her wild locks, the colour returning bright and smooth like new. She marvelled, rubbing a rough cloth over her face to clean off the dirt.
“You have a lovely hair colour,” she complimented, and Lillia’s red rimmed eyes peeked up shyly at her. “I’ve never seen a blonde like it.”
The little girl sniffled, running her fingers through the locks clumsily. It was so soft to the touch; she was quite overwhelmed by all these new things, like how those round objects in the ceiling made light, and how warm water appeared from the metal on the end of the tub.
Once she was thoroughly cleaned, Dol helped her clamber from the tub, all clumsy, soaked limbs. She dried her off with a towel, and out of the corner of her eye, Lillia noticed an older girl tending to the one who had bumped into her before.
She was dabbing a wet cotton ball to her arm, soaking up all of the blood. The little girl was sniffling through tears, glimpsing at Lillia through her eyelashes.
They both stared at each other.
Then, Lillia was helped into her new uniform, the same grey dress over a clean white shirt. Dol fixed her collar and pulled up her tights, and then slipped a shoe onto her foot. She then paused, laughing apologetically.
“Oh, these seem a little big for you. Let me fetch a smaller size.”
The little girl watched her go, and picked uncomfortably at her new clothes. Her nose wrinkled at the impossibly creaseless fabric, her toes wriggling in the airy material of her tights. She took a fleeting moment to gaze at the rest of them, all in various stages of dress.
The girl from before looked a little less in pain, but no less uncomfortable.
When Dol returned, she slipped the shoes right on her feet and buckled them in. She took her to dry her hair, another odd machine that blew hot air from the circular hole. The older girl let her play around with the strange buttons, but nonetheless got right back on track not a moment later.
Her fingers combed through her hair, drying the damp strands with ease.
“I will arrange you for Mălina’s class,” Dol gently spoke up, her eyes turning serious. “Of course, don’t ever call her that. Only ma’am. The other vampire, she’s called Viorica.”
Lillia blinked miserably.
“Mălina is strict,” the girl whispered secretively in her ear, having leaned forward like in some form of confidentiality. “She likes girls who look neat and are well dressed, so always wear your hair in a bun. My bunk is on the far left of the dorm, so if you need help, come to me. You will have to learn how to do it yourself eventually, though.”
Sir or ma’am. Wake up at this time and go to bed at this. Wear a bun. What more did Lillia have to remember when all she could think about was the horrors she witnessed at her village?
“Be sure to volunteer to answer questions,” Dol encouraged, brushing Lillia’s soft locks and scraping it back into a neat, tidy little bun at the bottom of her neck. “Mălina likes that.” Her voice turned serious. “Just be sure you’re certain you answer correctly.”
The little girl’s eyes crinkled. “Will I get my dress back?”
Dol’s expression saddened. “No,” she sighed. “It’s an honour to be in the Institute, er— what was your name?”
She fiddled with her fingers. “Lillia.”
“Lillia,” she repeated fondly. “This is the best place to be. We humans are so lucky to be looked after so kindly. Here.” She tapped under her chin, encouraging her to look at herself in the mirror. “Don’t you look pretty?”
Pretty, yes, Lillia thought. She wondered if her ma would think the same.
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ileana’s girls: act 1﹑the storm has come suddenly on #1
“Ma, ma!”
The young girl’s voice drifted through each dew drop of rain that fell from the sky - her fingers hiking her dress above her ankles, plodding across slippy grass. The grey clouds had cascaded over the little village in an unsuspecting sweep, her blonde hair a ratty mess, stuck to her cheeks in a damp tangle of locks.
An older woman had risen from her spot beyond the cobbled fence, wet and heavy clothing slapped over her shoulder in haste, ruined from the storm. A disapproving expression fell over her face as the little girl stumbled through the gate, snapped shut by her mother’s free hand.
“Lillia, you’re muddy,” she scolded over the rain, clasping the girl’s hand in her own and tugging her swiftly over to the open door of the cottage. She struggled to keep up with her mother’s fast strides, eager for them both to escape the rain. Her shoes clipped her dress, smearing mud over the white fabric and pink trills her mother had sewed for her.
Lillia’s bottom lip wobbled with her sadness. It was her favourite dress.
“Oh, the washing is soaked,” her mother moaned, dropping the soggy pile upon the kitchen table. A furrow lined her brow, running a frustrated hand through her dirty blonde hair. Lillia stood there, feeling quite useless, until her mother turned and began her incessant fussing.
“Off with your shoes, quickly,” she urged, helping her pull off her mud caked footwear. “What were you doing so far out, young lady? I told you to stay close to the cottage.”
Lillia pouted, her skin feeling sticky and soggy as she peeled off her dress. “Eddie wanted to play.”
Her mother shooed her over to the tub, before popping a pot of water on the stove. She quickly lit it, letting it warm as Lillia clambered into the small tub, the bottom rough against the pads of her toes. Her mother detoured to untangle her wet plaits. The sensation tugged pleasantly at her scalp, curling her legs to her chest with a pleased hum.
“You need to ask me first, Lillia,” she scolded, combing through her locks with her fingers until they were dangling past her shoulders. The movement allowed her to catch a bright flash of red on the little girl’s pale hands. “What is that?”
Suddenly, she latched onto the girl’s wrists, a look of frightened anger passing over her weathered face. “Is this blood? Did you cut yourself?”
Lillia winced as her mother prodded at her palms, smoothing her thumbs over the red stain. When she felt no bump of a cut or sign of an injury, her eyes darted up to her daughter’s face expectedly. Lillia blinked up at her, her eyes wide.
“We picked berries,” she answered quietly, her shoulders stiff. The mother’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, her hand coming to tenderly cup her cheek. The anger was gone, but the fear remained stagnant in her voice, in her body, bleeding into the air around them. She seemed to shudder, and it made Lillia’s skin prickle with an expansion of goosebumps.
“You can’t go that far without me,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “If you’d cut yourself and they had smelt it then—”
The words dry on her tongue, a wobble of emotion evident in her voice. It’s as though nausea clamps her throat closed, and she tenderly brushes her thumb against her cheek. She rises to her feet to fetch the pot, before gently taking Lillia’s wrists and pouring the warm water over them first.
“Off it goes,” she murmured softly, rubbing the juices off her small palms. The little girl shudders when the rest of the warm water is poured over her, the stark change in temperature making her bottom lip jut out in protest.
The mother gently slips her hair over her shoulders, unsticking wet bits from her cheeks. “You know how dangerous it is out there, Lillia. I just want to keep you safe. We always pick berries together because I know I can protect you. If you go out there alone, I won’t know if something bad has happened to you. Do you understand?”
Lillia blinks up at her mother, blue eyes shimmering under the dim lighting. “I’m sorry, ma.”
Her mother sighs heavily, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “You are the most precious thing in my life, my sweet girl. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Lillia whispered quietly. The woman’s expression relaxed just enough to allow a small smile to tug at the corners of her lips, before she resumed scrubbing the sticky mud off her skin.
The girl absentmindedly watched the clean water turn a murky brown, the calming scent of tea tree filling the little cottage as her mother attentively cared for her hair. By the time the water had gone cold, she clambered out of the tub, a shivering pile of gangly limbs, and dried off with an exaggerated huff.
“Doesn’t this dress just look so pretty on you,” the mother preened, peppering the little girl’s cheek in kisses as she squealed in delight.
“Ma, that tickles,” she giggled, wriggling in the woman’s arms as she easily kept her close.
“I can’t help it,” she chuckled softly, tapping her nose and watching it crinkle. “You’re so beautiful, Lillia. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
Lillia blushed humbly, biting back a pleased little smile at the compliments she was being showered in. Her mother kissed her temple, dried off her hair, and rose back to her feet.
“The storm won’t pass until tomorrow,” the woman noted, ushering the girl to the small wooden table by the window. “Go sit down, Lillia. I’ll cook your tea.”
“Okay, ma.”
Lillia promptly did as she was told, clumsily clambering onto the chair and resting her fingers on the edge of the table. Her feet swung idly back and forth, her fingers drumming along the table, eyes watching the rain thundering hard on the windows.
It was raining so heavily it was almost as though the glass was rattling, shielding their home from the onslaught of the battle.
Water droplets seemed to form intricate patterns on the surface, chasing each other in a cascading rush until they reached the bottom. Lillia followed five rain droplets as they made their journey down the glass pane, tilting her head in curiosity when she caught something peculiar outside.
She shuffled onto her knees, pressing her small hands to the glass. Blurry figures seemed to be approaching from the forest line.
“Ma,” she called, momentarily distracting her mother from the stove. “Who are those people?”
There was a quiet clatter as her mother shifted the pan from the stove, Lillia’s eyes watching the fuzzy figures in the pouring rain. Her throat made a soft noise, blonde eyelashes fluttering gently.
“They’re going to get muddy,” she whispered under her breath, and the moment the words left her tongue, her mother suddenly gave a strangled cry.
Lillia barely even had time to process it before she was abruptly yanked off the chair, her mother’s arm clamped around her waist in urgency.
“Downstairs, now!”
Her socks barely found any semblance of grip on the ground as she was hurled across the room, her heart in her throat and a horrible prickle of fear on her skin. But within mere seconds, a resounding bang erupted through the cottage, the wooden door splintering under an impossible force.
Lilla screeched in fear, her mother throwing herself over her as the wood clattered against the ground and smacked into the walls. A whoosh of air tore her mother from around her, Lillia’s tear filled eyes snapping up to find one of the creatures on top of her, like a wolf snagging its prey.
Her mother’s guttural scream ripped through the cottage, a spray of wet redness splattering against the walls and up the stove, painting the potatoes red. Her thrashing limbs were squashed under the figure, the fighting a useless feat.
“Ma!” Lillia sobbed, barely climbing to her wobbly knees before a whoosh of air snatched her too, hurling her off the ground with complete ease. The bruising pressure almost made her want to throw up.
“No, ma!” She screamed, clawing desperately at the air as she kicked and flailed hysterically, as though she might be able to reach her mother one final time. Her mother, who was barely twitching, convulsing from the creature’s fangs in her torn flesh. “Stop it! Ma!”
Yet, as she was carried outside of the cottage with ease, despite her struggles, the pelts of rain and roaring winds hit her like bricks. Wet droplets smashed into her cheeks, causing her to gasp from the cold chill that seized her throat like icy claws. Her eyes squeezed closed, scrunching as a horrid throbbing pain seemed to erupt in the back of her skull.
Screams were dulled by the storm.
The unmistakable onslaught of destruction, houses wrought from a fast descending destruction, window panes smashed, and sprawled corpses lay face down on the grass in mangled heaps. How swiftly the monsters had torn through their village, truly like the relentless howl of the storm.
Lillia felt her swiftly soaking hair sticking to her cheeks, a lump squeezing her throat so tightly she felt like she couldn't breathe. Mind spinning with the rapid pace of it all — how quickly she had gone from the kitchen table to the arms of a terrifying creature. Her socks were sodden with wet mud, ruining the hem of her pretty dress. No, Ma just washed me, her thoughts choked. I’m muddy again.
Said vampire roughly hurled her into the back of a cabin, uncaring of her fragile limbs as she landed in an awkward heap on hardwood, crying out in pain. She desperately scrambled back, only catching the ominous glow of two red eyes in the haze of the pouring rain before the cabin door slammed shut with a thundering bang. Loud enough to make the organ in her chest lurch into her throat.
Lillia curled her legs to her chest, her wide eyes darting around the cabin in flickers of pain. She caught glimpses of terrified children staring back.
One in particular, that made her throat close up with a choked sob.
“Eddie,” she gasped, a ragged noise.
His tear stained face lifted from the solace of his knees at the familiar sound of her voice, his nose wrinkled with quiet sobs. She struggled to find a semblance of strength in her limbs to crawl over to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders.
He tucked himself into her with a muffled whimper, shaking fingers digging into the sleeves of her dress. His wet, ginger hair tickled at her nose as she cried softly into the messy heap, her heart aching like wildfire in her lungs.
Even as she closed her eyes, the image of her mother, her blood, coating the walls of their home, tormented her with a cruel reminder of their sudden reality. She gasped for breath, her ragged sobs suffocating her. The reality, that this was no nightmare.
No matter how much she prayed for it to be just that.
The cart gave a harsh jolt, wheels rumbling across the wet path as it drew away from the carnage ensued. Water droplets shimmered across the delicate strands of her eyelashes, melting into the stream of salty tears that tracked down her cheeks. No child dared unfurl from their tight, protective balls, too shaken with terror at the might of the monsters to do anything. Lillia wasn’t thinking about escaping, or her fate, or anything of the sort.
All she could think about was how much she wanted her ma. Wondered, what about supper? She’ll surely be mad if she’s not waiting at the dinner table for her food. Oh, ma hated wasted food. Those potatoes will surely have to be thrown away. They can’t have blood in their food…
Eddie’s squeezing fingers dragged her out of her thoughts, feeling disorientated. His wide, green eyes were staring at her, bottom lip wobbling with a whispered murmur of her name. Lillia stared back; she’d been talking out loud. She could tell, because her throat felt tight.
“My pa,” Eddie choked, the words like hot ash in his throat. He was trembling so hard.
“Where are they taking us?” Lillia whispered frantically, sensing the entire cart of orphaned children flinch violently at the crackle of thunder outside. Even she did, too. The boy frantically shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he choked. His fingertips were still stained with berry juices. “I don’t know…”
She clumsily wiped the water droplets irritating her eyes, and when Eddie buried his head into the crook of her neck to cry some more, she simply held him tight.
MASTERLIST﹑link here
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SYNOPSIS: with the world taken over by superior creatures, vampires, humans have little to no purpose in the world other than to serve as food for their stronger and more powerful rulers. three strangers, all subjected to the cruel nature of vampires, have inevitably combined fates when they individually catch the eye of pureblood vampire ileana mavros. in a world of such disparity, their lives find room for what was thought to be lost — comfort, kindness, healing, and most importantly, love.
general content & warnings: vampire whump, institutionalised slavery, multiple female whumpees, female caretaker, minor character deaths, nsfw themes but nothing explicit, non-explicit themes of rape/non-con, suicidal ideation, polyamory
pre-reading note: ileana’s girls contains very real and very sensitive topics relating to different kinds of abuse and the consequences (and healing) of it. please read with caution.
a spin off from the royal bought series over on my other blog, please give it some love so updates can keep coming! as always, i love to hear your thoughts, requests, questions and theories <3
Roy rubbing Leo's back to help him sleep after hes had a fever and sinus pressure thats not going away <3
The mercenary was careful not irritate the scars on his back, considering how bad of a few weeks Leo had been having with this fever. He had just thought a bit of medicine and rest would knock it out of his system, but he supposed that only worked for someone like him.
He sighed, as though the whole thing was an inconvenience to him.
“Your face still hurts, lion?” He hummed, tilting his head to get a better look at his expression. He looked all pitiful, a bit of a wet blanket, but the mercenary liked that about him. His fever was bad, clammy around the collar, and his face was flush with a pink glow. His eyes were watery. Looked like he was about to cry.
Roy smiled fondly.
“It’ll pass,” he assured him, patting his shoulder. “The painkillers should kick in soon. I don’t know all about that nasal stuff, though. Heard it makes it worse.”
Leo sniffled - or he tried to, at least. He seemed to cringe in pain and make an awful noise, and Roy rubbed the back of his neck tenderly. His voice softened.
“Alright, alright.” He rose from the couch, digging through his box of medical supplies. It was mixed with a bunch of controversial items, but when he found what he was looking for, he popped the lid off the small glass vial, and held it up for him to see.
“Won’t heal your nose, but it should help start clearing it, at least,” he told him, dabbing the strong smelling oil into the seam of his shirt. He whistled softly as he did so. “Strong stuff.”
Leo bit back a soft moan, the muscles of his cheek and his nose feeling oddly swollen and taut. He was hardly even listening to anything that the mercenary was saying, too distracted by the uncomfortable fever that had gripped him.
“Can I take a cold bath?” He choked out, not knowing what else to say. His thoughts felt muddled, like a thick fog had expanded in the crevices of his mind. The mercenary tilted his head, something curious passing through the gleam of his eyes. But then it was gone, leaning forward to pepper a few kisses on his nose.
“Right,” he nodded, untangling him from the blankets. A warm hand rubbed his back as he guided him upstairs, ushering reassuring words the whole time. “Should help you get some shut eye. C’mon.”
over some time, i have plans to schedule posts for two series! both of them already existing (somewhat). when i wrote GFH, it was a very spur of the moment thing and little planning. a rewrite will likely be longer, there may be small little changes to plot points/new scenarios, a bit more character building etc. i also want to write some more short stories in the GFH universe + things from other people’s POV! that’s something that we will have to wait for.
the rewrite will likely be scheduled posts, with chunks written in advance and a steady flow of parts, considering this is a series that’s already been written and read! anyone is free to request just like on my other blog.
from the royal bought series, i’m planning on writing ileana’s girls in full — this is split up into a variety of acts (somewhat chronological), following each character. the first three acts are whump, the rest is recovery, healing, and romance. this will likely be the project i focus on the most at the moment. any questions (or if you want to be on any tag list) then as always let me know!
hopefully, i can maintain a real schedule for these series for consistent updates. if you would like to support me on ko-fi, that would help so much! it’s a big incentive to keep writing and it helps so much with my motivation to keep going. writing in advance is hard for me when i don’t have feedback/comments to soak in, and can be very discouraging for me, so anything is appreciated.
new projects will be revealed once i get stuck into these series!
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i am moving to a separate blog for all of my series - i have taken such a huge break since my exams that i can’t find the motivation or the right feeling to jump back into where i left things off :(
i plan to rejuvenate and revamp them all, particularly GFH, and so any new content will be over on @avvail-tales rather than here. maybe even rewrite it, too, where i’ll post it over there and over on ao3 for a bigger experience.
i am not sure how often i will post on this blog, but i am still writing prompts on my main blog (@/avvail). so please give my new blog a follow! i am also eager to expand the GFH universe and see a few things from other people’s POV 👀
It’s been a long time and I can’t promise I can return to this blog anytime soon. With my exams finished, I am making my change to University and moving out - finance is a struggle and I am doing everything I can to help myself out as living will be extremely difficult.
I have set up a Ko-fi page here!
This is merely a suggestion and not a requirement - any kind of tip or donation would mean the world to me and really help me out in the long run.
I have also opened commissions! I may not be active on this blog, but if you would like to commission a piece, hero/villain, any whump pieces, or else wise (SFW and NSFW), then you are more than welcome too. It would mean a lot to me and help out so much, as well as keep my writing going!
I love you all (and I miss being on Tumblr🥲) and thank you so much 🩷
To add over on my whump blog, my commissions are open for all of my series! If you would like to commission any SFW or NSFW work for Guns for Hire, the Facility or simply anything that you would like see, then I would appreciate that so much.
Not dead promise. Middle of exam season, slowly killing me, cannot write. Words no appear. Will likely be back sometime mid June when I’m all finished and have the time. I’ll come back to the BTHB and get all of them written when I can, as well as some new prompts! Love yous see you soon promise <3
Chapters #6 up to #11 (planned, but may fluctuate when writing) contain a temporary lady whumper during Luke’s arc. Despite not being his main whumper, I understand the inclusion of lady whump may be uncomfortable for some readers. But it’s only temporary, so here’s a summary of everything important that happened during these chapters so you don’t have to read them. You can carry on from #12 as normal afterwards.
Note: with each new chapter, I’ll update this post for anyone who needs it.
💋Chapter #6
Here we meet four new characters, the stars of Ileana’s Girls. Luke meets three humans girls, named Lillia, Brooke, and Cali. Ileana is the vampire that’ll be (kindly) taking of care of him for the time being and preparing him for the auction.
Lillia, Brooke and Cali take Luke into the bathroom to get him cleaned and dressed in some new clothes. His old ones are discarded of, but Lillia kindly lets him keep his necklace after he refuses to let go of it.
We get a snippet of Luke’s appearance: “...his locks were still damp, black and twirly, sticking to his forehead slightly. Forest green eyes shimmered slightly under the bright lights. Even though his skin had been scrubbed clean, right down to the bone, it still retained its light almond colour.”
❤️🩹 Chapter #7
Luke is forced to his room to rest with a display of Ileana’s powers, which he notices are much more powerful than Justinian’s.
Escorted by Lillia and Brooke, he makes note of the mention of a pureblood.
Upon waking up once again, Lillia is the one who greets him with food, medicine and water. Luke refuses to take the medicine, drinks the water, and eats a plate of pancakes for the first time.
By using Lillia’s kindness against her, he tricks her into opening a bedroom window, before carefully knocking her out and using the window as his getaway.
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content warnings: vampire whump, lady whumper, multiple lady whumpees, conditioned whumpees, defiant whumpee, hypnosis, manhandling,
Luke gently ran a hand over the front of his shirt, feeling the outline of the necklace there against his palm, completely hidden. Lillia gently buttoned up the last button, her eyes flitting up to his for a moment, before she stepped backwards.
He wanted to thank her again, his heart twisting slightly from the relief, but it went unspoken.
With Lillia leading the way, he was taken back to Ileana, who seemed to have seated herself at the wooden desk, her intense eyes pinning Luke to the spot as soon as he crossed the threshold.
“We’re finished, my Lady,” Lillia smiled sweetly, and Ileana rose to her feet, smoothly and gracefully, coming towards them. Luke steeled himself to the ground, watching as those pointy fingers gently carressed the bottom of Lillia’s chin, almost making her purr.
“Thank you, my darlings,” she cooed, giving Luke a slow once over. He was suddenly aware of how heavy his necklace was on his collarbone. The girls didn’t seem worried. Ileana’s lips spread into a sly smile, stepping up close to him and invading his space. She seemed to anticipate that he would take a step back, because her long, slender fingers suddenly snapped to his jaw, keeping him still. The sharp fingernails dug into his flesh, and he bit back a painful hiss.
“Much better,” she hummed, jerking his head to the side and inspecting him. The pointy nails were going to leave crescent shaped dents on his skin, he was sure. “You look far more appealing when you’re not caked in dirt, aren’t you?”
Luke huffed through gritted teeth, face twisted into a snarl. He tried to say something, demand she get her filthy hands off him, but her grasp just tightened, squishing his cheeks. It was like he was a child, and humiliation and resent stabbed at his chest.
“Ah, ah,” Ileana purred, her eyes narrowing. “I have plenty of other humans to take care of before the end of the day. Why don’t you be a good boy and get some rest? I’m sure it’ll be much easier to take everything in if you’re well rested.”
Luke gave another sharp grunt, twisting his fingers into her wrist in some attempt to get her hands off him. The pressure was making his jaw throb, like it might snap out of place, blinking back the automatic tears that stung his eyes. He could feel his neck being forced into place, twisted up at an awkward angle, and it was hard for him to look anywhere but her eyes. When he screwed his shut, Ileana gave him a hard tug. A gasp tore from his throat at the stinging pain, eyes flying open.
“I said,” the vampire murmured, and Luke was suddenly falling through tunnels of blinding red. “Why don’t you be a good boy, and get some rest?”
Luke’s breath was suddenly caught in his throat, and when Ileana’s fingers released him, he found he couldn’t quite look away. His head was going all fuzzy and heavy, his thoughts were battling for control, and his expression, wide eyed and tightened, was staring up at her. Ileana leaned forward, flashing her fangs as she smiled. He couldn’t even move back.
“That’s right,” she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. It felt like it was wrapping Luke up snugly, coiling him against her whim. “I am sure it’s been such an exhausting day for you. All you should focus on is getting some sleep. Anything of importance will be discussed later.”
This wasn’t anything like Justinian’s compulsion. This was all consuming, sinking into each limb and each shred of muscle, making them completely hers. He didn’t want to believe her, knew that she shouldn’t, but all he could think about right now was the comforting embrace of sleep. How heavy he felt. How exhausted his mind was.
Her silver hair fell past her shoulders as she brushed her hand through his own hair, the feeling tugging at something in his brain. Telling him to obey, telling him this was right. The hand slid to his cheek, and Luke didn’t even realise he was leaning into the touch. Ileana’s vibrant eyes flickered across his face for a moment, as if studying him, but she leaned back, satisfied.
Luke could only remain stood where he was, planting to the spot. He was surprised he wasn’t swaying with her snake-like movement.
“It’s refreshing to feel someone try and fight it,” Ileana hummed absentmindely, sweeping a hand under her chin as she glanced towards the three girls, all of them swiftly looking away, as if they hadn’t been intrigued by Luke’s reaction to the compulsion. Maybe they were expecting him to break out of it. He was trying, he really was.
“Lillia, Brooke.” The two girls lifted their heads obediently. “Could you take him to a room, please? Straight to bed.”
They both nodded their heads, and Ileana stepped back to her desk, letting her girls deal with the rest. The blonde stopped in front of Luke, his vision all fuzzy and his eyelids droopy. His mind could only just process the feeling of her gently taking his hand, and Brooke guiding him by the shoulder. His feet seemed to move smoothly, effortlessly, as if he wasn’t controlling them at all.
Well, he supposed he wasn’t.
His tongue felt too heavy to say anything, and everything was spinning instead.
Beside him, Brooke shifted. Lillia was still holding his hand, helping to guide him through the corridors. Her brows furrowed.
“Lillia…” She murmured, and the blonde girl looked at her, blinking her eyelashes. She tilted her head in curiosity, then glanced down to their hands. She unlinked them, pink lip twitching with a subtle smile.
“Sorry,” she breathlessly answered, her eyes switching to Luke. She slowed a little, making sure his pace was consistent. “He can still walk okay, right?”
Of course I can, Luke wanted to say. Nothing came out. Their conversation was a little fuzzy, and hard to follow when all he wanted to do was drop down on something soft and sleep all of this grogginess away. Brooke hummed, staring at him.
“Yes,” she finally said, shifting her hand from his shoulder. “I suppose he’s not used to a pureblood’s compulsion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall under it so quickly. Not even you.”
Lillia blushed, her brows furrowing in embarrassment. “That’s different.”
They turned a corner.
“Well, regardless,” Brooke continued, but there was still a hint of amusement in her tone. They stopped by a door, and Lillia fished for a key of sorts, inserting it into the lock. She gave it a hard twist, and it creaked open. Luke felt like he was hit with vertigo when they finally stepped inside. “It must have been some life. Living out there, I mean.”
It was a bedroom, it seemed. Not too large, but extravagantly filled. If Luke had been in his right mind, he might have taken a moment to observe. Instead, he felt an overwhelming tug towards the bed, Ileana’s silky voice weaving between all of his thoughts again. There was a moment of silence, before Lillia spoke. Her voice, this time, was a breathless whisper.
“Oh, Brooke,” she murmured. “I feel sorry for him.”
“Lillia, come on,” Brooke sighed. “We’ve tended to so many other humans before this. Why are you so upset?”
Their words were fuzzy, going in and out. He could barely follow it.
“Because…” She paused, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Out there, it was probably safe, right? He could have lived a life without having to deal with all of this. We got lucky and yet…the things that we went through. What you went through. Out of everyone, he could have been the closest to ever living a normal life out there. How often do you even think he saw a vampire?”
Luke’s chest stabbed once, then twice. The realisation of this conversation was going to barrel into him in the morning. Whenever that was - Luke didn’t even know what time it was right now.
“Should I feel guilty?” Lillia continued, her voice breathless. “Do I even have that right when we’ve done this to so many other humans?”
Brooke suddenly cut in. “Don’t let Ileana hear you saying things like that.”
“She’s been too distracted with Cali,” the blonde murmured softly under her breath, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Brooke’s eyes didn’t falter from hers, until suddenly, she was smiling slightly.
“Our Lady has her attention elsewhere, and so you move your interests towards the first guy you see?” She teases, her smile suddenly becoming coy. “And you say I’m the jealous one.”
Lillia’s cheeks went bright red. “It’s not like that. I just want to know more about what’s out there. About him. That’s all.”
Luke felt a faint touch on his arm, and just like that, everything was a blur again. His thoughts didn’t even register it this time, lost in the fuzzy sensations that were engulfing him. He felt something comforting beneath him, making him sink further under. He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to say something, but nothing was working. There must have been a slurred murmur on his tongue, because Lillia suddenly paused, grasping the bedsheets.
She glanced at Brooke. “He’s fighting it.”
“It won’t matter,” the other girl simply responded, tugging the bed sheets up instead. “He’ll just have a headache in the morning. Let’s hurry back.”
Luke’s curls splayed out on the pillow, his eyelids fluttering. Lillia and Brooke were simply two blobs in his vision now, fading into a black void as his mind slipped away, drifting off into a peaceful, undisturbed slumber. He didn’t even hear the door close.
. . .
Luke did have something of a headache when he woke up.
He didn’t know how long it had been, but ironically, it was almost as though he’d slept like the dead. Tingles reverberated in his skull as his eyes fluttered open, almost on command. He was lay flat on his back, seemingly just how he’d been left, the soft sheets cool and comfortable over his body.
Luke’s hand flew up to his temple, giving it a tense massage.
Regardless of the tingling sensation through his skull, Luke hated to admit how refreshed he felt. It was almost like the perfect sleep, and it irked him to know he’d been sleeping away so easily while Ten was somewhere out there all alone.
As if on a schedule, there was a click from the door.
The lock, Luke realised, lifting his head to watch as it swung open, and Lillia stepped inside. She was balancing a tray on her hand, a sweet smile spread across her face. Her hair was styled today, curling slightly at the bottom, half up and half down. Luke must have had a scowl on his face when she approached, because her smile faltered a little bit.
“Did you sleep alright?” She asked, placing the tray down on the bedside table with a small clatter. There was a plate of food, something foreign to Luke, and a glass of water. He eyed it wearily, sitting up. “You may have a headache.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, feeling the pleasant stretch in his back as he straightened up. No pain. It was as if the sleep had completely rejuvenated him. Lillia was watching curiously, and also knowingly, eager to get her two cents in.
“I love sleeping under compulsion,” she giggled, as if she could read his mind. Luke sent her a hard look. “I feel amazing when I wake up. I don’t get nightmares like Brooke, but I still ask my Lady. She’s always happy to oblige.”
Luke’s mouth was dry. “Right. Your Lady.”
Ileana - if the silver haired vampire was going to compel him into behaving, then Luke needed to get out of here as swiftly as possible. At least with Silas, there was some petty arrogance in being able to deal with any physical beating he threw his way. He’d hated the feeling of losing all of that power, so much more consuming and powerful that Justinian’s had been.
He recalled something one of the girls had said - a pureblood. Luke was out of his depth when it came to the intricacies of vampires. He didn’t even know a pureblood was a thing, or what it meant. Though, he could guess turning wasn’t the only way to create a vampire.
“Can I have some water?” He asked, pointing to the glass. Lillia winced, nodding her head as she collected herself. She’d been staring at him again.
“Of course,” she smiled, handing him the glass. She went back to the tray again. “I have some medicine for your headache, too.”
Luke took a sip. It was cool and refreshing on his dry tongue. “I’m not taking medicine.”
“But it’ll help.”
“I’m not taking it,” he firmly repeated, and Lillia flinched back. A silence spread through the room as he drank his fill, eyes flickering over to the food. The blonde looked a little fidgety now, and Luke suddenly regretted snapping the way he had done. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips.
“What’s that?”
Motioning to the food, he watched as Lillia followed it, her eyes brightening back up again.
“That’s right,” she beamed, giggling softly. “You have probably never seen something like this, have you?”
She carefully plucked the tray up, placing it on his lap. It was warm through the duvet, almost pleasant would it not be for his current situation. He had been ready to protest, but begrudgingly clamped his mouth shut after feeling a sting of regret for snapping at her when none of this was her fault. He made a disgruntled noise, but didn’t protest. Lillia looked almost pleased to tell him all about the food, which Luke stared at with hard eyes. It was circular shaped, steam rising from the surface. Something golden and thick was smothered all over it, glistening over the spongy substance.
Luke frowned hard.
“They’re pancakes,” Lillia giggled, observing his expression with glee. “Just try them.”
Luke didn’t protest when the fork was pushed into his hand, the knife in the other. After a moment of, as Lillia claimed, etiquette, since apparently it would be messy to eat with his hands, he was cutting into a small bit along the edge, soft and easy to glide along the blade of the knife. The girl suggested scooping up some syrup, she called it, and so he did.
He eased it into his mouth. Luke wasn’t exactly worried about poison; if they wanted him dead, he would be dead already. No, he was here for something far worse.
The first thing he noticed was the taste. His jaw instantly stilled, nose wrinkling slightly. It was an overpowering taste, and he promptly stared at Lillia, who looked like she was struggling to hold in a laugh behind her hand. She snorted, her eyes crinkling with a laugh as he continued to slowly chew. It was like paste, a little soggy with the syrup, and so sweet.
“It has a lot of sugar,” Lillia giggled, trying to get herself together. A part of him might be able to forget he’d been kidnapped by vampires if Lillia was by his side. “The syrup is a little sickly. You’re just not used to it.”
Luke prodded the sponge. It wasn’t bad - just not what he was used to.
“You need to eat, though,” she continued, having calmed herself down a little bit now. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “My Lady wants you to be as healthy as possible.”
“It’s…” He took another bite. “What is this?”
“Pancakes,” Lillia smiled. “They’re very nice. You can have them with all sorts of toppings. Maybe I shouldn’t have started with syrup.”
Luke grunted. He tried scraping as much of the syrup off as possible, before continuing to eat. Even if it didn’t taste amazing, his body was clawing at any chance to get some food into his stomach. He wondered just how much food the kingdom had access to when his people had been starving out in barren lands. Absentmindedly, his eyes trailed to the window.
“Can you do me a favour?” He began, glancing at Lillia as he ate. The girl’s spine straightened, beaming from head to toe.
“Happy to help.”
He motioned to the window. “The window.”
Lillia followed his gaze, rubbing her hands together. “You would like some fresh air?”
Her voice was a little tight, her throat bobbing. She looked back towards Luke, her blue eyes softening with that same look of sympathy again. A part of him recalled the conversation she and Brooke had had when he was under Ileana’s compulsion. Lillia and the others served their “Lady” like obedient pets, helping to prepare their own kind to be sold off to the same creatures that enslaved them too. Luke doubted she didn’t have a choice, but she seemed rather complacent in her role.
“Yes,” he answered. He paused, adding a small: “Please?”
The girl rubbed her neck. It seemed like the windows were meant to be kept locked shut, otherwise she wouldn't be hesitating as much as she was. After a few quiet moments, she seemed to relent. Judging by the fact she had let him keep his necklace, Luke had been expecting it.
“Alright,” she nodded. “Though, we must make a leave when you’re finished eating. My Lady is feeding, but she expects us to be on time.”
Luke dismissively nodded her head. Finished with his plate, Lillia leaned forward to take it, placing it on the bedside table once more. She watched him as he slipped out of bed, feeling a little fuzzy headed as he rose to his feet. His socked feet hit the floor, taking a moment to steady himself. Once Lillia deemed him okay to stand, she began moving over to the window, one that she opened with a key attached to a necklace around her neck. She eased it back under her clothes once done, as Luke silently picked up one of the silk napkins (was it a handkerchief? Luke didn’t care to know), cradling it in his palm.
Lillia unlatched the window, huffing as she pushed it upwards. Luke’s eyes darted to the door, murmuring a silent apology under his breath as he pressed the cloth over her mouth and nose, pulling her back against him. Lillia’s squeal was swallowed by his hand, her scared flails pinned by Luke’s other arm as he kept her close, preventing her from making too much noise.
He wanted to tell her he was sorry for knocking her out like this, but he didn’t want to say anything that the vampires, especially Ileana, might overhear. He was probably pushing his luck thinking he could do this without being caught. Lillia went under more swiftly than he had expected, her body going limp within a few minutes. He ever so gently set her down on the floor, her face relaxed and eyes closed. He made sure she was still breathing properly, setting her down modestly on her back.
Luke felt bad, but his survival was paramount. He had an eleven year old kid to look for. Stepping up towards the window, he leaned out, taking in the ground below him. It was clear, as far as he could see. He felt confidence spark in his chest as he swung his legs over, determined to make a swift getaway.
I’m just thinking about a vampire hunter who lost their arm. They replace it with a prosthetic one made out of silver. Imagining the pain when they grab a vampire, or pin them down by their neck while their skin burns under the silver and there’s nothing they can do because it hurts so much. Fingers desperately trying to find something other than the arm to grab onto to try and pry them off.
