Yours Truly
waiting for Jeon Jungkook to start another v-live
- Hello!
> 22 as of April!
> I write fanfiction and aspire to start a novel this year!
> 500-1k words if I’m truly inspired~
> I prefer male characters, or nonbinary
> Any pairings (mxf,fxf,mxm)
> oc x oc
> anime AND realistic face claims
> super friendly, please be my friend, okay?
> i love dark plots, give them to meee
> oc x oc ONLY, excluding chat noir x ladybug
> you MUST be over 18
> if you lose interest please let me know
> Communication! Is! My! Top! Priority! So don’t be shy~
>HEARTSTOPPER!!! (please)
> chat noir x ladybug
> prince x prince/stable hand/etc.
> the selection, but with powers too
> beauty and the beast w/ OC’s but make it !not straight! FxF/MxM
> Business Proposal but make it !gay
> Crescent City but with OC's
> literally any book by sarah j maas with ocs
> something similar to the chilling adventures of sabrina or wednesday
> death(this would b my character) x vampire -- I have ideas for this, as it's the plot of my book~~~
> Angst? Yes please.
> literally open to anything/everything
SHORT VERSION: Human w/ Amnesia x Vampyr King; but there’s a huge plot twist.
A lone human lay at the entrance of a long abandoned mountain village. The snow fell slowly, covering the harsh, dark soil in a soft blanket of white death. No footsteps led to or from the man’s weak body, his chest barely rose and fell, his hair white save for the one black streak amongst the snow white color.
Snow covered his lashes as he blinked in the dim afternoon light. When he tried to remember how he’d arrived here the loner could not retrieve his memory. Had he walked here? Or had he rode? And exactly… where… was… here?
Snow crunched under the weight of many boots. The white-haired man glanced around to find the source of the noise.
Once, when he had his memories, he would have recognized the exact kind of beasts the beautiful men who stood a few feet away from him. A man with bright red hair stained the white landscape. “What do we have here?” The stranger asked, sounding amused, though his stance obviously stated he would rather be anywhere else.
On instinct he tried to move away but found his limbs weak and unused to holding his weight for some reason. “What is a helpless little human doing all the way out here in the Rayvnwood Mountains?” Red hair whipped around his face, beautifully unkempt in the windy storm. Apparently the beast had expected a verbal response. Yet speaking, like moving and remembering, were out of order. He could not find his voice, though the wind probably would have spirited the sounds away regardless. “Where’s your master?”
“Obviously he wasn’t wanted.” Another said from where they held a short line of five others looking just as dangerous as the closest red-haired man towering over him.
“Mm.” He was studied for a few long seconds. A slow, satisfied smile. “We’ve found a new addition to the gambling den, haven’t we?”
“Doesn’t look like he will survive long.” One commented, their low voice dripping with obvious disgust at the prospect of… well… whatever they were going on about. He could barely hear over his teeth chattering about in his skull.
“One less gladiator to worry about then.” A pale hand waved off the others before reaching out to him. “Well? Would you rather die out here, or die fighting?”
The choice was obvious.
And he’d made the wrong one. For months, he knew this, even the second he stepped into the dirty makeshift ring. Yellowed pieces of bone jabbed at his bare feet against the freezing mud, but he’d never given up, even when the first wound he’d ever gotten was infected and he lay with many others on pieces of hay, only surviving due to the beasts guarding them desiring the money he could bring in rather than the hassle that was his death. So for months he fought in the ring, until one day, he knew his time had come.
A Vampyr stood in all his white finery infront of him.
Four months of fighting his way to the top for this? Ridiculous. Unfair.
He could come up with a vast assortment of nasty words to describe this situation. But none of them would save him. No words could get him out of this ring.
He was going to die…. Fighting.
The blade gripped in his calloused fingers trembled at the sight before him. Blonde hair reached the beast’s waist, his delicate fingers grabbed a non-existent piece of dirt as his handsome features rendered him ugly in disgust. A short, sharp blade sliced through air as they spun it, once, twice, a third time. A taunt. In a thick accent, “I thought you were going to give me something worthwhile. Not this piece of human trash.” The words beautifully rolled off his tongue in thick waves.
Their words were drowned out by a roaring in the crowd.
“Spill!”
The chant resounded off the walls and made the little terrified part of him crumple under their watchful eyes.
Then he struck. Not even looking at him, as if he wasn’t worth the time. As if his name wasn’t worth another glance. They’d not named him just to die here. He’d not gotten the title of blood-spiller for nothing.
An unhealthy small amount of space existed between the end of a blade and his throat.
Vampyrs were fast.
But this one… well this one was obviously not trying, was hoping for this to be over. Licking his lips, he knew he would end it soon.
Their blades clashed loudly together, his movements were fast but the Vampyr was a force of a god. Each blow rained down, each met with a tremble of his cold and weak limbs. Maybe if he’d not already fought two men tonight then he’d be in better shape. Maybe even land a blow or two of his own.
His feet were heavy and his hands were slick.
Another harsh slash, he pushed closer, a flash of a smile before his foot sank further into the mud. He was stuck, he realized much too late.
The mud sucked his foot deeper into its cold depths. A blade opened the skin of his forearm, his shoulder, his cheek before the Vampyr backed off.
With a loud grunt and some force he freed his foot and cast a glare over to the monster prowling in a slow circle, basically playing with his food.
Until he no longer felt like playing the game.
It happened so fast, so quickly he was standing one second and the next, a harsh slam into the mud was the only thing he felt and heard. The blade was dangerously close to his chest, but he’d been smarter.
He’d played dumb.
Played slow.
Had pulled at the man’s impatience.
Just to run him through with his blade.
Utter silence befell the audience before absolute chaos rained down.
He’d killed one of them. Some chanted the stupid name they’d given him, some screamed in outrage, and before he was dragged away from the arena, one looked absolutely stunned. And he felt the same, the man was stunning in his all black attire, dark hair pulled back into a tight, low ponytail. Numbly he wondered who he was and if he’d ever see him again. Which was dangerous. He should never want to see or be near a Vampyr. Ever.
Thrown into a small crowded stable like cage, he caught himself with weak arms.
Until of course, something bluntly hit the back of his head and his body fell limp.
Hours later…
“Good. He’s awake.” Red hair met his blurry vision. His head swam and he couldn’t seem to keep it up.
Rough fingers gripped his chin. “Too bad… he’s become a favorite of mine.” The man mused, “You make me so much richer every day, little one.” His smirk was deadly, and a warning. In all his four months here, he’d never been tied up and left on the floor. “Do you understand what you’ve just done?” He asked. Already shaking his head, “Ah. I see, well…” he stood straight. A once calm expression morphed into rage. “He was a Noble! And you killed him. Do you even understand how much money you’ve just cost me?! I could kill you.” His scream echoed inside his head— forcing him to blink several times. Then he whispered dangerously close to his face. “But why do that when I can just sell you?” Without another word, the ropes binding his hands dragged him roughly across the floor, all the way out into a dark, damp room. He couldn’t see a thing, the floor turned smooth and cool under him. He didn’t understand what was—
Lights brightly lit the room. “Is this your merchandise?” A small man asked. A stamp on his wrist told him that the old man was in fact a human as well. When his mind finally caught up with the words they’d spoken his blood ran cold, and he shivered against the ground. This wasn’t going to be good, the ropes rubbed against his already sensitive skin. Sweat trickled down his spine, he could hear his breathing kick up.
He’d never been sold before—
“Let’s begin then, shall we?”
There was nothing he could do as Vampyrs verbally berated one another over who would buy him.
His eyes darted between two rough looking men bidding higher than everyone else—
His fate was sealed in less than five minutes and all he’d been able to do was thrash against the bounds on his wrists and ankles.
Five minutes and he was sure he was going to be sent somewhere terrible. He’d heard the stories— working on a farm for hours until he’d collapsed from exhaustion— building lavish homes all day and night until he couldn’t go on— or or just being food—
A dark haired man stood infront of him, roughly snatched the rope and began to quite literally drag him off the stage—
But then, out of nowhere, the doors to the small run-down building slammed open.
Blinking away the light, he tilted his head away and averted his eyes.
In hindsight he shouldn’t have looked away, because nothing was worse than not looking at the Vampyr King himself as the entire room took a knee and paid their respects with a kiss to their middle and index finger’s fingertips before placing their fingers between their brows. “Your Majesty.” The rope went slack.
There was no point in trying to flee, his fear kept him rooted in place. This entire space was teeming with dangerous predators that could kill him in a heartbeat. “Lord Biron.” A smooth voice acknowledged the man kneeling in front of him.
“What brings you here?”
The infamous King sounded amused as he responded. “I heard an interesting little rumor.” He began, “About a human who willingly slaughtered his kind in a human fighting ring.” The room was silent. “As you all know, that practice has been banned for the last two hundred years…. But that wasn’t what piqued my interest. I was curious as to how cold blooded a human could truly be to be rewarded with such a name as The Bloodspiller. So I sought to see him with my own two eyes, just to witness a murder to our kind at the hands of a small…” he stepped around the kneeing man before him, “weak human.” Black, clean boots stopped right before his nose. Not even a trace of dirt, he could almost see his reflection— sudden as his arrival, his head was jerked upwards, “I believe…” he said, turning his head towards Lord Biron, “that this is now mine.”- > Heartstopper
> The Disastrous life of Saiki k.
> Warrior Cats
> Shadow and Bone (show and books)
> BRIDGERTON
> A court of Thornes and Roses
> Throne of Glass
> Crescent City
> Paradise 1 by David Wellington
> Crave Series
> The Selection / A thousand heartbeats
> A Kingdom of Ash and Blood
> The Chronicles of Vladimir Todd
> Michael Vey
> Teen Wolf
> Disney's Descendants
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