justasimptm reblogged
OMG im so sorry! I hope you get better soon!
Thank you!!! I appreciate it Bub :)
Hiya! Its been a while since youve been active and ive just been wondering, are you doing well, are you ok?
Oh thank you for asking!!! Im doing okay :) Had a bout with Covid and alot of chaos but im good! Hoping to be more active soon :)
The Bride C19
Heisenberg’s POV
The walk back to the factory seems longer than it ever has, I find myself more lost in my head, overwhelmed and confused by the girl I’ve met before but never really known until now. The first time I walked into that castle I was fighting to keep a perception of removed coldness. I spent the entire time staring just above Miranda so I could seem like I was paying attention but mostly just to keep myself in control. I barely spoke, barely looked at anyone, but when I saw her, there was something familiar there. I fought that idea for a very long time, she seemed to be just like the others, blood thirsty and crazy and ready to do anything for Mother Miranda. She seemed to float in and out of the world like a ghost.
Everytime she would show up it felt like another shovel of dirt over my grave, because as beautiful as she was she had expressed clear distaste for me, and utter adoration for Miranda. Still, something seemed out of place. As happy as she acted, as much as she swore up and down she was grateful and happy, the look in her eyes hit a part of me that I have tried to hide from everyone and everything.
Everytime I see her I try to talk to her, even just little things to get a response so I can try to find out more, but every attempt is shut down. I even try to confront her about it directly, but she dodges and evades the question before Lady Dimitrescu shows up and whisks her away from me.
I don’t see her again until Miranda sends me on that mission with her, and honestly that’s the only thing I’ll ever thank her for. Seeing her rush out of that fortress a mess both warmed a part of my heart and made me want to laugh. The look on her face as I fixed her hair and corset and even later on as I was messing with the ties, sent a whole different warm feeling through me.
That was the first time she ever really let me see her. And thank god she did, because the girl behind that mask is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. When she later begged me to leave, it felt like I was stabbed in the gut, but the fear that seeped into her voice was very real, and made me realize I was right the whole time. She was like me. She didn’t want this, and she was backed into a corner. I take special care next time not to look at her, or address her at all, despite how desperately I want to, but I don’t want to be the reason she gets hurt, and I know I’ll see her again.
From that day on I have Lycans watching her, and the castle, when I can’t, just in case something were to happen. I know that could be weird, but the idea of leaving her defenseless against the others stabs fear into my gut and I can’t sit well without knowing she has something there if she needs it.
I am grateful I took those precautions when she got stabbed. That shitty maid had escaped and hurt her and it felt like my entire world was crumbling watching her start to fade. I had never seen her in such a weakened state, and I had no idea how to help her or to fix it, but she did, and thank god, because I don’t think I could have lost the only person who I might be able to trust.
I should have known better than to bring her back to the castle, known that Alcina would be furious, but she was still out of it, and I thought for a minute that I would be able to deescalate the situation before it blew up. I was wrong. I don’t see her for a good week after that, none of the watchers I have on the castle report any movements. Nobody inside the castle mentions her, the other girls start loosening up, and for a second I am petrified. They don’t act like that when she’s around.
When I finally get word of her movements outside the castle I all but run there in my haste. She looks pale, tired, but alive, leading a group of girls down to Moreau. When the doorway blocks up I can see a faint wince before she steadies herself and turns back towards her path. She seems resigned as she returns home, and as much as I want to go check on her and see why she was gone and what happened, but after last time I don’t think it's a great idea.
The next time she leaves the castle I was there watching, she seems stronger this time, like whatever fight she’s waging it seems like she started winning. Seeing her makes me feel better, knowing she’s doing alright. I almost leave and head back to working on my weapons but I decide to follow her just a few minutes longer. What strikes me as odd is that she’s going to Moreau’s, but she’s alone. That fact alone makes me uneasy, nobody ever visits him without reason, and never alone. I can tell this is registering in her head too because she hesitates at the doorway.
Moreau comes up from behind her and she doesn’t turn, within seconds he’s covered her in slime, cutting her out of my sight. I curse as he brings her inside, taking off into a run down the hill I was watching from to stop him, but before I can make it all the way down, Mother Miranda appeared in my way. I would’ve gotten there sooner if it hadn’t been for her, and I still don't understand why she stopped me, she just kept going on in riddles before laughing and vanishing from sight just as quick as she appeared.
When I finally got there to check on her, Moreau had her up against the wall, needle stuck in her arm and approaching her with a knife. The terrified look on his face when I announced my presence was amazing, as was the look of relief on hers. She was too weak to walk, it seemed like she was in a haze of sorts. I don’t have enough words to describe how it felt to have her drink from me. The look she gave me after was by far the most memorable, she looked so calm, satisfied. We talked for a while after that, both of us trying to calm down from her attack and the shared intensity of her feeding.
I find myself wanting to know more, wanting to know everything. And she reciprocates, answering every question and retaliating with three of her own. Through shared stories and laughter I see the real Y/N, someone I don’t think anyone has seen in a very long time. I want to keep seeing her, I want to burn the mask she has to wear. I want it so bad I consider taking her with me back to the factory, but I’m not a monster. If she isn’t ready to leave, if she’s too scared to, then it won’t end up well. I just have to wait for her to come to me. Have to spend the time making sure she knows I’m safe and that I can keep her safe. Have to get the person who is terrified of trusting people to trust me.
And for her, I am up for that challenge.
The Bride C 18
When mother asks me how it went I lie and tell her it was fine, he just needed a little bit of blood. I tell her the reason it took so long was because he had asked me to help him with the Cadou. I don’t mention that he tried to kill me, that Karl showed up and saved me. I don’t tell her that I drank from him, or that part of me is aching to go back and see him again. My story satisfies her despite its gaps and she lets me go, tells me she’s proud of me and dismisses me to go do whatever I want. I find myself wandering down to my old studio. The room had been kept up with, which is nice, the maids typically finding moments of peace whilst airing it out and checking on the supplies. My sisters aren’t allowed in here.
This studio was a gift from my mother when I was very young, she swears up and down that I’ve always had a talent for painting. Once she even took one of them on one of her trips, said it sold for enough to bring me back new paints. I always thought she said that to try to make me feel better, to get me out of bed. The room seems to be holding its breath, waiting to see if I’m going to sit in it or if I’m just going to leave. I quietly make my way over to the desk, my sketch book sitting on top of it. I run my fingers over the cover, feeling the coarse material catch on the creases of my skin.
Without much thought I reach forward, grabbing one of the pencils from the top of the desk, scooping the sketch book and moving towards the small couch by the window to sit. Art is one of those things I can just do without having to think too much, it lets me zone out and relax and think, while also keeping myself busy so I don’t get antsy. It takes a minute before the pencil starts flowing across the page, but once it does I quickly lose myself in my thoughts.
I start by reminiscing on my youth. When I was very young my father left my mother, she sat alone in his office for weeks, barely eating, she had the servants take care of me. Now I realize she was grieving, but then it felt like she left me. That was really the last time she really was my mother. She came out of that room a different woman. Colder, calmer, like the eye of a storm. She had picked herself up and rebuilt herself into another person. Within weeks she had redone the entire castle, removed all traces of the man that lived there, treating him like nothing more than a random person who had stopped in. The only thing that was left was the few pictures and trinkets I had managed to smuggle out of her path and hid under my bed.
The hurt he left stayed though, and boy did she project it. Lashed out against the servants, getting rid of the men we had hired, replaced it with an all female staff. She grew distant from me for a few years, until I hit puberty. At that point I started growing out of his features and she could finally look at me without seeing his face looking back at her. There were about two years that were good, before they went right back to bad. I was 15 when I started getting sick. It took months before we could figure out what was wrong. A doctor finally did some tests, ruling that I had inherited a rare blood disorder from my mothers side.
My mother had it too, they realized, but it was affecting her far slower. In my case it had progressed in the drop of a hat. It was like my veins were filled with sandpaper. My blood wasn’t flowing right, almost like it was drying out. The doctors said if they couldn’t find a cure I wouldn’t make it past 19.
She spent the next three years scrambling, trying to find a cure for me, for herself. Miracle cure after miracle cure, everything was failing, and by the time I turned 18 I gave up. But 18 turned into 19, and surprising everyone I kept living. Every movement felt like a wildfire, any food felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Then 19 turned into 20, and that’s when everything changed. When my mother got back from trying to save us again she had become a monster, and in turn forced me into the same life.
It took me several months before I decided to try accepting what she did. By then she had created the others, my siblings. When I first saw them I wanted to throw up, but there was nothing in my body to reject. They had been so grateful, so happy of the new life they were given, and when they realized I wasn’t they were furious. They used to poke at me until I would snap.
Once I started feeding and getting stronger they didn’t change their tunes, still rude and immature, only acting polite in front of mother. When we met the others who were more like my mother, I was surprised. Miranda had welcomed them into her ‘family’ just as she accepted us, and my mother was furious.
I still remember when I first met Heisenberg. He had walked into the house like he owned it, brushed by me like nothing. He didn’t talk for a while at that meeting, only sprinkling in replies once in a while. When Mother Miranda had introduced us all, his eyes didn’t move from the spot they were fixed on the entire time. After the meeting was over, he essentially fled. Mother went on a rant for hours about how disgraceful his behavior was, how clearly he didn’t want or deserve the gift he was given. After she said it I realized that was likely part of his withdrawn behavior, and for a while I sympathized, until he became just like the others.
From that point on my entire perception of him shifted. He wasn’t someone I could understand, he was someone who was on the other side of a line I didn’t want to cross. Until now. Now he’s someone I’m somehow getting close to. He’s there when I need help, he’s been kind and funny and has actually listened to me. Part of me is nervous because what if he tells my mother what I said, but that part is silenced quickly, because I know for a fact he hates her. He might not say it, but it’s obvious in how he behaves around her.
Maybe we aren’t as far apart as I first thought.
Hello can I pls be added to the bride tag list
Thank you so much in advance 🥰
Of course!!
Hiya!! Could i be added to the Bride series please????
Of course!!!!
The Bride C17
The voice rings clear and stern, tone filled with rage and disbelief. Heisenberg stands a few feet away, leaning on his hammer, watching Moreau hesitant in front of me. It’s kind of funny to me, watching him panic, it’s like he’s hitting all the stages of grief at the same time. His mouth flaps like a fish, which is even funnier given his ugly other form, but to give him credit, he doesn’t back away. Heisenberg barely twitches a finger, but the knife he was holding flies from his hand, banging loudly on the support beam behind us. I feel both relieved and tense still as he steps closer, knowing I’m not alone but unsure how he’s going to deal with this situation.
“Mother wanted me to do another test! I’m making progress!” Moreau whimpers, matching his steps moving backwards, only stopping when he bumps into his little table and trips, falling to the ground with a nauseating wet slap. Heisenberg doesn’t even look at me, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the dolt that’s trying to skitter away from him. “You should-you should go! Let me finish my work!” Heisenberg scoffs at the effort, twisting his fingers slightly to pull the needle from my arm, letting it ping to the ground before sliding the bucket that had started collecting my blood over to him. It sloshes slightly, and I realise he had already started draining me before I woke up.
“I think, you have plenty. And I also think if you ever try something like this again, I will tell Mother Miranda about your betrayal, because that’s what this is, and she’ll cast you out for it. Let her out of your filth.” He hisses, leaving no room for argument or discussion. Within seconds I feel the sludge holding me up release, which is both a relief and a shock, because without it I feel a million pounds heavier and I tumble forward into Heisenberg, who with all his grace, manages to catch me before I hit the ground.
Without so much as letting the other creature breathe a syllable in reply, Heisenberg turns, and promptly stalks from the mines, resurfacing through the hut before walking us slightly downstream. He sets me down carefully on one of the bigger rocks, letting me adjust myself before fully releasing me and sitting down next to me. Part of me wonders how he found me, but part of me doesn’t want to ask, wanting instead to break down slightly and thank him for saving us again, even after our last encounter had been so cold. I scramble for the words to say to break our silence, even a simple thank you not feeling good enough. My buffering seems to register with him, so he fortunately takes the initiative and speaks first so I don’t have to.
“Do you need blood? He got a lot before I got there.” He asks, eyeing me up and down before looking out at the running water. The concern in his voice shocks me for a split second before I reply, humming thoughtfully as I focus on my body to see if I can get it to wake up. He must’ve really taken a good portion of what I had running through me because even now, out of his slime and out in the light, my body feels like it could drop into a coma at any second.
“I will. Before I go home if I can manage it. Thank you for coming, Lord-” I start, watching him from the corner of my eyes so I can look without staring directly. Before I can finish my miniature praise he cuts me off with the waive of his hand.
“I wasn’t gonna let that Fish Chum kill you. And I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Karl.” He states, turning to face me head on, but keeping his attention low as he shrugs off his jacket and rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. My brows furrow at his movement and I have to force myself away from staring at his now exposed arm and flexing biceps as he moves them. “I know I’m probably not preferred dinner, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get anyone fresher.” He mutters and it suddenly strikes me what he’s planning. Before I could protest, both at the intimacy of it and the idea of drinking from him and hurting him, he pulled a thin knife from his belt and made a small cut across his arm. Not so deep as to cause much damage, but enough to make his blood sing in the air. “Don’t even think about saying no. Can’t have you dying’ on me yet, Doll. I still gotta make you like me.”
His words barely register on my mind as I reach for him on instinct, he pulls me closer to his side, running his fingers through my pinned hair and letting it fall fully loose from it’s half destroyed bun. It’s interesting as I latch on, not biting really, more like suckling, the conscious part of my brain trying not to cause too much harm. What’s even more interesting is that instead of tensing, like most would under the fang of what could arguably be considered a vampire despite our real creation, he relaxes into me. Sighing as my lips close on his skin and I apply the first light pressure of sucking, not flinching as my tongue swipes over the cut he made, tasting him for the first time.
He tastes like the best treats you could imagine. Like a fresh strawberry, dipped in rich dark chocolate, both sweet and bitter, but a perfect combination of both. He tastes like nothing I’ve had before, something I can only imagine could be compared to having your favorite meal at the end of a long week. My eyelids flutter close at the first drop that I pull into my mouth. Trying so hard not to be greedy, but wanting so desperately to bite and drink until I can’t. I think I hear myself whimper slightly, but I’m quickly soothed by his gentle shushing as he runs his fingers through my hair, scraping slightly along my scalp. The paired sensations of his coarse fingers on my head, his calm voice telling me it’s okay and to take what I need is almost too much to handle.
It makes me not want to stop, even though I know I need to. My body feels alive, humming with strength and more energy than I’ve had in years, and I fight every single nerve I have as I pull my stained lips away from his arm. When he asks me if I’ve had enough I almost laugh. No, I want to say, I need more, I need everything, but I say yes, because I am sated, belly full and happy, warmth flowing back to my fingers and my cheeks. His face is tinged red, just so slightly, a thin layer of sweat along his forehead, and for a split second I’m terrified I took too much. But as smoothly as he had rolled it up, he tugs his sleeve back down, nodding to himself. We sit in silence for another minute, letting both of our breathings steady before trying to return to conversation.
At first our conversation is light, he asks how I ended up in the mines, I ask how he knew I was there. Both of us give half truths, evading what we think will embarrass ourselves, but walking on eggshells grows tiresome fast.
“Are you scared of your mother?” He asks out of the blue, making me choke slightly on the breath I was taking. I can’t stop myself from looking around at who might have heard him, but we’re alone, just as we were when we came down.
“My mother is...a very complicated woman.” I start, treading carefully, but he scoffs at my statement, making me smile lightly. “Maybe a bit more than complicated. She’s always wanted what she thought was best for me. For her, really.” The sadness in my voice sobers him quickly. As I find the next words he gently pulls his glasses off, putting them to the side on his jacket. I started explaining that we were both sick, her and I, but she wanted to be cured, leading into her magical find, the thing that would keep her alive for ages. He knows what I mean without having to say it. “She came home that night different. Physically, mentally. She looked like my mother but she didn’t exactly act like her. I was terrified, if I’m going to be honest. She changed me though, even though I…” I can’t finish that sentence, but I don’t have to, judging by the look on his face he already understands. “It took me a while to accept this, and when I finally did she really wasn’t my mother anymore. She was twisted up, and if I’m going to be honest, yes. I am afraid of her. I think everyone should be, really. She has no remorse for anything she does, wanting only for us all to love her. Me, my sisters, Miranda. That’s the only thing that drives her anymore.” What he asks next sends a spear of shock through my gut.
“So why haven’t you left?”
Why haven’t I left? God, that’s a very good question. I can go outside, I can fend for myself quite easily. So why not? The answer is much harder than anything else I could say.
“Because if I leave, I die.” His mouth drops at the bluntness of my response, and I have to fight to keep my voice steady. “My pendant is burned into my chest. If I try to leave, my mother can break the charm on it that keeps the silver poisoning from spreading, and kill me. I stay with her because I’m sick of dying. I’m sick of living. I’m sick of not having a choice on which I do. So I choose to stay, because it’s the only choice I have.” He doesn’t have a follow up question, and the silence that was once comfortable now feels suffocating. “Thank you for helping me, Karl. I need to get back now. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”
Without so much as another beat of my heart I swarm, quickly finishing the ascent back up to my home, not reforming until I’m firmly inside the doors.
Heisenberg's POV
When I found her, mounted to the wall like some goddamn experiment, it felt like my entire world stopped moving. She was alive, but the white sheen on her face told me that wouldn’t be the case for very long. I know for a fact that this oaf didn’t ask Miranda if he could do this, so that was my opening, and thank god it worked. I was able to get her out of there before something bad really happened. Out in the sunlight she seems more calm, but she’s still too pale. It strikes me that she needs blood, to replace what he took. I start to scramble mentally, not sure where to find her something to eat, not wanting to leave her to do it.
The thought breezes through my head in a split second. If she needs blood, I think, she can drink mine. Then I think about the parasite infecting my body and I grimace, I doubt she’ll really want that. Still, however, I offer, and a warm tingle goes up my back when she agrees. When she starts mouthing at the cut I made on my arm I fight every fiber of my being to stop myself from shivering. The feeling of her tongue swiping over it, the deep but gentle sucking and the blissed out look on her face is almost too much for me. Almost too much but somehow not nearly enough.
The moment is over almost as soon as it starts. She releases my arm from her hands and pulls back, her breath still ghosting over my skin. I want to tell her she can keep going, just to feel it again, to see her like that, but I know she stopped for a reason so I don’t push it. After steadying our breathing and calming down, I decided to break the silence and try talking to her.
Our conversation is airy, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to for ages, ‘are you scared of your mother’. When she says yes my blood boils. She tells me how her mother came back fucked up and forced the change onto her. She didn’t want this life either. She tries to keep her voice stable but I can still hear the hints of it shaking. The next question falls from my mouth before I can stop it.
“Why haven’t you left?” I propose. This seems to stump her for a minute, but she pulls her shoulders back and her face droops in resignation. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to answer, but she does before I get a chance.
“Because if I leave, I die.” She tells me, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the throat. She explains how the pendant she has is burned into her body, which explains why I never see it move, and that if she leaves her mother will take the charm off of it and let her die. It’s silver, the same material used to stab her those weeks ago. If I look close enough I can see small back veins around where the pendant sits, evidence that it would kill her. Before I can say anything else she’s gone, whisked back to her tower, far away from me. When she’s gone it feels less warm in the sun, everything somehow dimmer. I’m going to find a way to save her, I think to myself, and nobody will ever hurt her again.
The Bride C16
My body feels too warm, too heavy, like someone bound me up and set me to roast. My eyes want to open but it feels like weights are attached to my eyelashes and it’s so difficult, like coming out of the deepest sleep. Faintly I can hear the stomach churning sounds of squelching and muttering, the voice registers as familiar in the recesses of my brain but I’m nowhere near functional enough yet to really process who it is. I make out ‘needle’, ‘extract’, and ‘love’, but what finally wakes my brain up is the sharp stinging that spontaneously radiates from my arm.
When my eyes snap open I find myself wishing I had kept them closed. My body, I find, is currently strung up along the wall, entirely supported by Moreau’s...sludge. Now that I’m aware of what it is I can feel it moving, pulsing. It feels both wet and dry, liquid and solid, like I could fall out of it at any second and like it’s suffocating me. My arms are spread out on either side of me, forearms exposed, but held firmly over my hands and biceps to keep them still. He’s standing on my right, clumsily shoving a needle through the thin skin on my inner elbow. My whimper makes him slip, the thin needle slipping from his hand. He curses loudly, jerking back away from me.
“What are you doing to me?” I croak, blinking the dryness from my eyes as they adjust to the dim lighting. As quickly as I can I take in my surroundings. It looks like he dragged me down to the mines, to his makeshift laboratory. In the surrounding area I can see the bodies of the girls I brought here not too long ago, half mutilated, dead. Whatever progress he promised Miranda doesn’t come from them. He turns from me, hobbles over to one of his tables off on the side before coming back over.
“Mother needs you to make progress. That’ll make her happy. If I make her happy maybe she’ll love me! Be quiet. Please let me make Mother happy!” He whines, as he turns back to me, a fresh needle in hand. Or as fresh as I can imagine anything here would be, given the smell and decomposing bodies. “Gonna take the blood out. Make more room.” This time the needle slides home, making me hiss, especially as he jolts it while attaching a long tube to the end. Following it down I see it leads to a bucket on the ground, a matching bucket on my other side. I wrack my brain as fast as possible for a way out of this as he goes back for another needle.
“You-you can’t! Mother Miranda would be upset!” I stutter, trying to pull myself from his slime as it tries to pull me deeper in. That makes him hesitate for a minute but he continues on anyway, whispering to himself that I’m lying, that she’s going to love him. When he turns back his eyes bounce between my face and the arm he’s currently bleeding, only to curse. He mutters that it’s too slow before spinning back away and grabbing at something else from the table. He hurries back over to me, having abandoned the needle in exchange for a small knife. Just as he goes to grab at my other arm, someone out of my sight clears their throat, making Moreau freeze.
“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, you freak.”
The Bride C15
After that things are quiet around the castle, my sisters take back to their previous habits of lurking around and tormenting when they can. Our interactions drop down to near zero which honestly is preferred. The maids come back into my orbit, after our conspiracy together the trust rebuilds ever so slightly, because even though I can be construed as one of their captors, we have a mutual secret, one that can make or break the other. Heisenberg doesn’t make any more visits, which definitely helps maintain the peace I’ve forced into place. Mother Miranda doesn’t come by either, most of her communications are directly to mother by phone.
The next time she has anything for me to do isn’t for another two weeks, and mother isn’t too thrilled about the idea of me going in general. Nonetheless she consents, letting me feed before sending me out. Mother Miranda had asked me to go down to Moreau’s, apparently he might have found an ideal candidate, and he had asked for me to go down so he could sample from me directly. Of course Miranda was ecstatic at the idea of progress and had all but demanded I go down immediately.
I made the trip down to the mines a short one, taking the shortest path there possible so I can try to avoid having to linger. Nobody wants to be around him any longer than absolutely necessary, even Mother Miranda. Sometimes I wonder why she continues allowing him to exist. He’s barely a brain cell above the Lycans, sure he can talk but honestly, he looks disgusting, acts like a toddler and overall is annoying to be around for longer than a minute. The man is literally, and figuratively, slimy.
“Moreau!” I shout, as I arrive at the rundown hut, hesitant to go inside, knowing that most people who do don’t come out after. When he doesn’t reply I call his name again, hair on the back of my neck rising. Something about this feels very off, I think to myself, taking half a step backwards, and just as I go to turn and head back home I hear a whisper of my name before everything goes dark.
The Bride C14
I wait a few minutes until the doorway slimes up and I can faintly hear them screaming, my heart pulls at their fear but I know I can’t risk doing anything. So instead, I turn around, close my ears to their begging, allowing it to fall silent and make my way back to the castle. The way back feels longer, filled with guilt, and the feeling of eyes on me that I can’t quite place. Instead of looking around for my stalker I keep moving, more focused on getting back and forming my revenge plan against those wretches I have to call sisters. Since they all but confirmed they were the main reason my mother had the tools and idea to put me in the cellar, they deserve anything I bring to them. And better yet, they’ve essentially given me all the things I need to be able to do it. All I need is a bit of help, and they’ve provided me with all the people I need.
My plan starts as soon as I get home.
- Get home, drop to my knees on the front steps before my mother begging for her forgiveness
“Mother, please forgive me. I went after that girl because I didn’t want her to harm us, I didn’t realize she had one of your knives, I could have sworn they were still locked. I told him not to touch me but he took advantage of my weakened state to try to gain your favor. It’ll never happen again I promise, what can I do to make it up to you?” Every word out of my mouth is a lie, every plea for forgiveness a smoke screen. I keep my eyes on the ground, so I can force faux tears into them before I spare a single glance up at her. She hums softly before reaching out one of her hands to up my cheek and hold my gaze on hers. What she sees must satisfy her because she gently helps me to my feet before wiping away the fake tears that I pushed past their crest to spill down my cheeks.
“Of course I forgive you, my darling daughter. I just get so worried, you understand. Come, let's get you fed, we can discuss the rest later on.” She coos, grabbing my hand and leading me sniffling up to her room, past my sisters who jeer at me from the bottom of the stairs. “Bela, send up one of the girls with a bottle of my special wine please. Your sister and I are going to have some time together. If anything happens while we’re doing so, I will hold you responsible.”
The look on her face almost makes me smile, but I’m careful to keep my downtrodden mask on so they don’t see. That day my mother nearly spoon feeds me as she gently scolds me for not being careful. She promises to get rid of any silver so this doesn’t happen again and how she was so scared she was going to lose me. The room is filled with mutual promises, on her end that she’ll trust me more and get rid of the silver, be more cognisant of situations I get put in that are out of my control.
On my end, I’ll stay away from Heisenberg, and that I’ll be more careful when I go out, and that I’ll ask her permission before I do so. My promises are filled with nothing but lies. The only promise I mean with my entire being is that I’ll be more careful, but not of going out. I promise to myself that I’ll be more careful while inside these walls, the walls that once nurtured me and grew me and started to kill me. I promise to myself that nothing in this castle will kill me, and if anything tries, I’ll kill it first.
- Do tons of little things for my mother, bringing her her favorite flowers, wines, blood, anything to make her happy, and keep my sisters away.
My sisters seem to pick up on what I’m doing, try to shove themselves into time with her and I, but like a switch flipped she tells them to go away because her and I are ‘bonding’ and ‘recovering from our argument’. They seem to cause lots of their own problems, which works in my favor. They’re too stuttery trying to get my mothers attention again, and make too many mistakes. Makes it much easier to slip back into my place in front and push them further from her favor.
- Get some help from the help.
This ends up being trickier than I expected. The lies my sisters told about me coupled with their psychotic behaviors while I was in the dungeon makes them all uneasy to be around me. I finally manage to corner Anca, one of our older girls, outside my room, and it takes me almost ten minutes to convince her I’m not tricking her or trying to hurt her. When she finally settles and stops looking for an escape, I drop my act, let her see who I actually am, and pray to god she’ll listen to me. At first it looks like she wants to laugh in my face, but when I tell her about how I changed, she sombers. When she finally agrees she’ll help me and she can get the others to as well, I tell her the plan, at least the parts I have worked out. Within hours they’ve started, whispering just loud enough for us to hear.
They talk about the giant mess my sisters made in the cellar, that they knocked over an entire rack of mother's favorite wine. That starts her going, which we knew it would when I asked them to tip it and make sure every bottle smashed. The next day, they talk about how they overheard my sisters talking about how they think some of my mothers rules are unfair. The third day, about how they heard Cassandra say she thinks Heisenberg is interesting. The fourth day is what really sets my mother on edge, one of the maids is changing the bedding in Daniela’s room as mother walks by and ‘accidentally’ drops one of the silver knives my mother got rid of, very loudly, so that my mother looks in and sees it on the floor.
Mother storms through the castle shouting for my sisters, who flock to her side as soon as she says their names. She screams at them for being so careless, that their little stunt could have killed me. She goes on and on, digging into their reckless behaviors, tearing them to shreds out in the open. Part of me feels like I should be remorseful, but after everything they did to me, they deserve it.
Mid rant I swoop in, reaching up and placing a hand on her wrist to draw her attention to me. Softly I ask her to forgive them, that they missed her and that they didn’t mean it. With my pleading she agrees, telling them they need to behave better and then walking off, leaving the four of us standing together. My smile drops the second she’s out of sight, leaving my face cold and calm. They look at me as if they’re sizing me up, as I walk towards them.
“Look at me very, very carefully.” I start, levelling my voice with cruel smoothness. “I said it once before. She is my mother. No matter what you think you can do to me, I can make it much worse for you. So be more careful when you try to kill me next. Because if you aren’t successful, I’ll make sure you’re the ones who end up dead. Good night, sisters.”
The Bride C13
A group of our maids are huddled together when we get back upstairs, none of them speaking, a mix of fearful and somber looks decorating their faces. We don’t quite breach the foyer before my mother stops me, tilting her head down to speak to me quickly before we head out to greet Miranda and the girls.
“I told Mother Miranda you were helping me with our research. Do not make a liar out of me, or you will stay in that cell well over a week.” She mutters quietly before turning on her full watt smile and waltzing out to greet Mother Miranda. I take a minute before following, overwhelmed by her threat and the hunger coursing through my body. I follow her out through my haze, putting on a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes as the attention of the room falls to me. Mother Miranda greets me loudly, asking me how our studies have been, if we made any progress. My mother watches me very closely as I respond, telling her they’ve been alright but there hasn’t been anything substantial to report.
She nods understandingly, taking my hand and squeezing it as if it’s meant to comfort me. When she withdraws I know she bought into our lie because my mother relaxes. I want to throw my mother under the bus, tell Miranda that I was locked up downstairs for ages, that mother wasn’t feeding me and that the only reason she let me out was to save face with her, but who knows if she would believe me.
So instead I smile, and pretend like I’m not picturing draining all those girls dry. I miss a good portion of what Mother Miranda says, tuning back in when she turns to me directly. She asks me if I will escort the girls down to Moreau so he can do their ‘check ups’. She phrases it in a way that can be construed in a positive light, as if she cares for them and wants to make sure they’re healthy, but none of them know who Moreau is. None of them know what horror waits for them down by the water.
They don’t know that when she says ‘check up’ she means that he’s going to trap them, put Cadou into their chest and watch as they writhe in pain and cry out for help until they fall still. Wait for them to wake back up, twisted versions of what they were, either elevated or mindless. More often than not they end up mindless, there were very few real successes with the Cadou.
Of course I agree, knowing although it’s phrased as an offer there is no actual choice. You either agree with Miranda, or you die. And in my position, where she wants to continue using me to further her own plots, my death would be very very painful. Mother kisses my forehead in a rather disgusting display of faux affection, wishing me safe travels. She bids the maids goodbye, rather than a safe return. None of them seem to pick up on the difference, or if they do they’re good at disguising it. The look she gives me as I lead them out is very sharp, very clear that I’m to bring them there and come right back.
The first leg of our trip is spent in silence, the girls too anxious to speak, me too hungry to look at them. About halfway there is when they start whispering among themselves, none of them brave enough to approach me. The slightly worn down hut comes into view, from the outside looking ordinary, comforting and misleading. Inside is a horror show, a tunnel from the mines leads up to one of the back rooms for Moreau. I stop outside the door, putting a calm look on my face and turning back to the group.
“Alright girls! Lord Moreau is waiting for you all inside! I’ll wait for you out here, it shouldn’t take too long! Let me know if you need anything alright?” I tell them, keeping my arms loose at my sides but close to my blades in case any of them try to run. They look uneasy, which is understandable, given the fact my home has essentially turned into a warzone for them and my mother willingly sent them here. I can’t blame them for their distrust, but I do commend their bravery because their hesitation ends in less than a few minutes and they walk through the doorway to their end.
The Bride C12
I don’t really know how long I’m down there in the dark. My sleep cycle was already very messed up, so this certainly wasn't helping. Judging by the fluctuation of voices I hear, new cries and pleading, it must be at least a week, if not longer. One of the maids tries scurrying past me one day, stopping for a moment to cast her eyes at me warily when I call out for her. I ask her what day it is, how long I’ve been here, what’s happening, anything she can tell me.
She tells me it’s only been four days, which surprises me. Tells me with fear lacing her voice that my sisters are poisoning my mothers disposition, that more and more of the servants are being sent to the dungeons every day. Says that the three of them are getting away with attacking people in the open, my mother doddling over them like a mother hen. There’s a loud clang that sends her skittering away before she talks with me anymore, and as much as I crave to, I don’t call out for her, hoping if I don’t and she lives, that she’ll come back.
The darkness is consuming, hiding even the shapes of things that surround me, leaving only the sounds of fear and despair. I want so desperately to get out, to beg and plead for my mother to forgive me, but I can't think of what I should be apologizing for. For leaving without her consent? Someone had to go after her before she got away, it would have been me anyway. For getting hurt? How could I have possibly known she had one of those knives, after mother did such a good job hiding them and making sure they were out of sight. For killing her? Well frankly, it was that or die, and dying that way was really quite painful given my insides were crystalizing and poisoning me. For trusting Heisenberg? For letting him carry me? He was the only one who came to help me, he saved me, and I was too weak to walk back on my own even though I wanted to. If anything she should be thanking him for saving me, but of course that isn't how she's going to view it.
She thinks of it as the biggest betrayal possible, that I had to get the help of a man, that I was essentially at his mercy. There's no convincing her it was anything less than that. And given the amount of work my sisters are putting in on her, I'm certain by the time I get out of here she'll be condemning me for something else, and I'll be back before I know it.
At this rate, she should just let me rot down here, let me turn into one of the pathetic ghouls that lurk in the other cells, mistakes of creation during my mothers earlier pursuits to please Mother Miranda and make a family. A new family, a better one, to replace me since she considered me a lost cause. I'm starting to think she's believed that all along.
And she does, after what feels like another week but ends up only being three more days. She whispers at me through the bars that things are getting scarier upstairs. I try so hard to listen to her but after a week of not eating I feel ravenous at the sight of a living person. Before she leaves she promises to try to find the key to my cell, mindlessly I go to follow her as she vanishes from my sight, but the salt coated bars send me reeling back in shock from the stinging pain. The next person who comes down is my mother, an eerie smile on her face. She unlocks my cell door without a word, pulling it open and waiting for me to approach, which I do so cautiously.
“Time to come back up darling. Mother Miranda has a task for you,” She says before stepping back and moving out of sight. My limbs are stiff, my movements like grinding stone, but the thought of getting out puts the momentum into me, even if it’s not what she wants. Mother Miranda has a task for me, after I’ve been stuck down there for ages. I wonder to myself if she knows that I was down there for if my mother kept that from her.
The Bride C11
The next few minutes are a blur of screaming and begging that comes to a head when Heisenberg tosses her to the ground next to me. He hisses something at her that makes her whimper, but he doesn't give her a chance to respond before he grabs her arm and slices a quick line right under her elbow. The smell of fresh blood assaults my senses and within seconds I’ve latched on to her, sinking my teeth into her soft skin. Whether by sheer force or the sharpness of my teeth I don’t know, but biting into her is as easy as biting into a sandwich, minor resistance, high reward. The responses are immediate-she yells and tries to pull away, the sound is stifled in seconds by Heisenberg grabbing her face and holding his hand over her mouth, his other arm grabbing around her middle and forcing her to keep still. The flow of blood is steady despite her struggles, strong swallows forcing it down into my gut, warmth spreading through me.
She tastes like cinnamon and citrus, tastes alive and so so good. Part of me knows I could stop now, that I don’t have to keep drinking. I can already feel myself recovering, feel the odd tugging as my body regenerates around the wound, the stinging as it drives out the poison that was killing me, the small popping as it comes out in the form of small crystal shards. However, fair is fair. She was going to kill me, damn near succeeded. The least I can do is return the favor, so I keep drinking, gulping down the thing that sustains us both.
Keep going even as her fighting gets weaker and her arm starts getting cold. Keep going until she stops resisting and even moments after that when her body falls fully limp and there’s nothing more than drops left in her veins. Only then do I let go, letting myself flop back to the ground, sated and full of energy, my wound closed.
“Do you need more?” Heisenberg asks, tossing her now empty body to the side without a second thought and hoisting me up so I’m sitting, but leaning against his chest to keep me stable. The concern in his voice is kind, a nice contrast from the rough sound of his voice. Through my gluttonous daze I smile at him, the voice in the back of my mind says to close my mouth, knowing my teeth are certainly stained red. Logically I know it’s likely also smeared around my lips, I was nowhere near neat eating this time. I was more concerned with consumption than I was with manners. It doesn’t seem to bother him though, which is nice, as his eyes never stray from my eyes.
“She tasted good,” I hum, closing my eyes in relief, “That’ll be enough. Thank you for helping...Karl…” My head dips down, resting slightly on his shoulder. “I’m sleepy.” He nods, shifting so one of his arms is under my back, looping his other under my legs, pulling me into his lap and then up as he shifts into a squat and swings up quickly to stand.
“Rest. I’ll have these brutes clean this up. I’ll bring you back to your mother.” He instructs. I want to tell him not to, that she’ll be mad, but my tongue is too heavy and I can’t get the words to come out. I hear him speak lowly to the Lycans before I can feel him start moving. His steps are slow, calculated as not to jostle me too much. The walk back feels long, whether that’s because he paces himself out so it is, or because I’m too out of itl, I don’t know, but it feels like hours before the gates come into view. They rattle for a split second before flying open with a clang. I want to tell him to be quiet, to put me down, that my mother can’t see him here, can’t see me in his arms.
His arms, which make me feel safer than I’ve felt in ages, warmer than all my blankets ever could. I hear my mother screech my name, making me flinch and blink my eyes open. He shushes me slightly when he feels me tense, before replying to her. “Alcina.” He greets her as he makes his way up the path towards the front door. We get to the bottom of the stairs before my eyes truly focus. She’s stepped out from the frame, not leaving the radius of the door, and boy oh boy does she look furious.
“Put my daughter down this instant, Heisenberg.” She snarls, voice colder than ice, cutting through my post-feed-healing ditz and spearing my brain with a spike of awareness. He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off before he can, stating her demand again much more firmly. He sighs, looking down at me briefly before bending slightly to set me on my feet. He keeps his hand on my waist for a moment as I sway unsteadily, but despite my vertigo I extract myself from his grasp. “Come inside now, Y/N.” I nod at her, whispering my thanks to him almost silently before stumbling my way up the steps past her looming form. I vaguely hear her hiss out a threat before she follows me inside, slamming the door and latching onto my bicep harshly, not letting up any pressure even as I cry out from the pain. She drags me downstairs towards the dungeon, past the smug faces of my sisters, before throwing me into one of the empty cells on the far side of the castle, far from the girls we bring down, from the blood we store. “You’re going to stay in here until you learn to keep away from that slime. I don’t care how long that takes.” I want to scream, protest that I didn’t seek him out, that it isn’t my fault, but I know it’s no good, she doesn't want to hear it. Doesn’t want to hear how I almost died, how he saved me and that’s the only reason I was near him in general.
She leaves me there as soon as she locks the gate. My brain starts turning back on after a few hours, my wound fully closed, the blood I consumed finally settling into my body, the buzz it gave me calming. Not long after that I hear faint laughing, that grows closer and closer until my sisters are standing in front of the bars, all looking like the cat who ate the canary. Daniela approaches first, looking me up and down before cocking her head to the side.
“Why am I not surprised to see you three here, gloating over my fall from grace.” I muse, skimming over their proud forms. “Let me guess. You let her escape. You gave her the knife. Is that why you’ve been scaring the help off?” Her lips curl up higher, clearly satisfied with her work. “You do realize I could just swarm out of here right? Right out through the bars.” Cassandra tsks, moving to join her sisters side, looking rather pleased with herself.
“You certainly could try, sister, but we had mother coat the bars in salt ages ago when some of our experiments started coming back.” My stomach dips slightly. Salt? Of course they had her do that. They’ve been planning this, clearly, because alongside silver, salt is one of the only other things that can a. hurt me, and b. keep me from passing through gaps in either form.
“Have fun down here. Who knows when mother will stop being upset with you. You really pulled that for us. Chasing after the girl, we could have stopped her before she got out of course. But god, coming back in his arms? We really should thank you.” Bela teases, stepping up out of the shadows and I can’t stop the disgusted scoff that comes out of my mouth. The three of them quirk their eyebrows, wordlessly asking what’s funny. I take a dragging step up, keeping a few inches from the bars, but as close as I can be to the three of them. Cassandra and Bela look towards Daniela, both looking as if they want to step away but following her lead. Funny, I would have thought Cassandra planned this.
“You girls are very cute, you know that? Thinking I wouldn’t know you planned this. Imagine how interested mother would be to find out the girl had one of her silver knives? You know, the ones she keeps locked away in her office that only we know about?” I reply calmly, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on theirs. Daniela opens her mouth to give some witty retort, I’m sure, but I cut her off before she can utter a syllable. “You girls need to be very careful with how you want to keep playing this game. The longer you’re on her good side, the easier it’ll be for me to topple you. I’ll let you have this one, but if you ever try anything again to make me fall out of my mothers favor you will regret it. Because even if mother doesn’t like me, Mother Miranda does, and I don’t think she’d be pleased to find out you three are trying to torment the person who’s been so beneficial to her research. Watch yourselves.”
They huff indignantly, and I know they won’t take my threat at its full merit, but that’s fine. More satisfying for me if I have to burn them. This time, however, they find their graces not to continue poking at me and walk off deeper into the dungeons, leaving me in the dark with nothing to entertain myself. I want to ask for a light, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of it, so instead I clumsily make my way to the bed, sitting on it with minimal error and resign myself to leaning against the wall until mother decides she wants to let me out.
The Bride C10
I hear my sisters screaming from the kitchens, promptly followed by loud crashing and the shouts of various other servants. Now this typically wouldn’t be alarming, until however, I hear them calling out to me. They would never do that unless something was direly wrong, they’re too proud, so the echoes of my name through the halls sets a pit into my stomach that has me swarming downstairs so I can get there as soon as absolutely possible. They have two maids cornered against the pantry, both have tears streaming down their faces, quaking with such force I’m convinced they’re going to fall.
“What’s going on?” I demand, skimming over the bunch to see if there’s any visual clues. Both servants have spots of blood adorning their aprons, not too unusual. What is out of place, however, is the pained look on Bela’s face as she holds a hand to her side. Daniela speaks without turning away from her targets.
“Three of our ungrateful maids thought it would be beneficial to their lives to attack us and escape.” She hisses, brandishing her blade at them hazardously. Three catches my attention, recounting I see the problem. “As you can see, sister, one of them managed it. She stuck Bela in the side and took off out the door. You need to go get her and bring her back before she gets to town or does anything stupid.” My eyes widen as I whip my head towards the cracked door, peering out past it to catch a glimpse of a figure fleeing off down the hill. I curse loudly, before taking off after her. She’s definitely faster than I originally anticipated, having made it a good portion of the way to town before I catch up with her. My fingers latch on the collar of her dress, yanking her backwards and off balance just enough to make her stumble, not quite enough for her to fall. The moment she regains her balance she twirls on me, looking like a cornered animal, I’m half convinced she’s going to start hissing at me. I recognize her in a heartbeat, it’s Claire, and my split second of hesitation is all she needs, thrusting her hand forward at me, sinking a knife she had so carefully hidden deep into my abdomen.
I gasp sharply at the sudden intrusion, both out of surprise and pain. Pain? Lots of pain-oh shit a LOT of pain. She tears her hand back, pulling the knife free, which both makes the sharp stinging better and worse. I catch a glimpse of the blade and I immediately know why it feels like she shoved a hot poker into my side. The knife she’s holding is one of the three all silver blades my mother kept as decor, given to her by my father when she agreed to marry him. Silver, ironically, one of the few things that will cause me immediate damage. It sticks to me like an infection, which is kind of funny, and if it isn’t treated it spreads like poison. It gets into my blood, like it reignites my disease, the veins from the wounds turning black as it spreads. The only reason my pendant hasn’t done that yet is Mother Miranda did some cracked shit to it when I first changed making it so it wouldn’t spread, which is honestly very fortunate given the fact it nearly melted into my chest from during my transition.
Her mouth drops open, like she wasn't expecting that to work and she lets go of the handle, letting it clatter to the ground. The blade is coated in my blood, shining black in the sun. Shakily I bring one of my hands up to the wound, my fingers barely graze it but the reaction is immediate and jarring. A scream tears from my throat, the girl jumps and starts running again. Another wave of pain shoots through my stomach making me whimper, it feels like she poured alcohol straight into it. I stumble forward a step, trying to will myself into motion.
I still have to stop her, get to her before she reaches town, but my foot catches on air and I fall forward. I barely manage to catch myself before I slam down face first. The impact itself is startling, but it does jolt my brain enough to shake me from my stupor. I know I’ll be fine, if I catch her in time I’ll end up killing her, she’s dead if I bring her back home anyway, but this way at least she can fix what she did to me. That’s probably the only bonus about who my mother employs. Only females, and all ‘pure’. Maiden’s blood is not only the best blood for us to make us stronger, but the only thing that really can heal this kind of damage in us. If I can just get to her, I’ll be fine. Getting to her, however, seems to be where the difficulties lie, as she seems very determined to make it as far from me as possible, and given the sheer amount of pain that rips up my nerves anytime I do so much as breathe, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do it.
I have to try. After all I’ve lived through, I refuse to die here on the side of the road, there by the fault of my sisters. With all the power I have left in my body I force myself to swarm, as it’s far easier to move at that point. Still, she moves faster, unwounded and already with a head start. Fate, however, seems to be on my side, despite everything that’s happened up until that point, because in moments she’s essentially swarmed by Lycans. None attacking her, just forming a wall of bodys so she can’t go any further. I make it a few feet from them before I’m forced to reform, dropping to the ground immediately and crying out on impact. Through the sound of the blood rushing through my head, the snarling of the Lycans, and the frightened whimpers of the likely soon to be dead maid, I can hear someone shout my name.
There’s a lot of distress in the tone, and for a second it sounds like it’s coming from everywhere, until I feel hands pulling at my arms, tugging me to turn over and sit up. Through the black dots that are dancing across my vision, I can make out the vague details of my new company.
“Y/N? Y/N what’s wrong!” He growls, his yanking makes me groan, down a ways from us the sounds of crying and snarling grows louder, nearly drowning out his voice. He’s quick to snap at them, telling them all to shut up before fixing his eyes back to me.
“Heisenberg?” I choke out, blinking up in surprise. What’s he doing out here? He laughs slightly, shaking his head. He pulls off his dark glasses, revealing his brilliant amber eyes to me for the second time since we met.
“Darlin’ you look like you’re dying, I think you can call me Karl.” He says airly, clearly trying to keep the situation calm despite the amount of panic lacing his voice. “What did she do to you?” He stresses, glaring up at Claire for a moment before skimming up and down, locking onto where my hands are grasping. When he catches sight of the black blood staining through my fingers a deep dangerous sound claws its way up out of his lungs. He turns as if he’s going to start at her, but my fingers catch on the hem of his jacket before he can fully get away.
“Need-need blood-” I choke, looking at him for a moment before fixing my eyes on her, hoping he’ll understand the message I’m conveying, and judging by the dark look that storms over his face, he does.
*Heisenberg’s POV*
I’d first like to start this out by saying, no, I’m not stalking her. But after the terror in her voice when she begged me to leave, I had a feeling something was wrong, so yeah, I decided to keep a closer eye on her just in case. Doing so I had to make sure Lady Douche wouldn’t catch on, so I kept my distance, mostly having one of my Lycans hover around the property, and alert me when she left or if there was commotion. Imagine my surprise when after weeks of quiet, the idiotic creature sends out the danger sign. After so much calm, and immediate red signal sent me into high gear, with no idea what to expect I ordered a group of my higher functioning creations to run out ahead of me as I followed along, having them track her down and stand guard just in case. So when she finally appeared in view, a stunning cluster of brilliantly colored black and yellow moths, streaming after a human, the confusion laced in me was understandable. Until I saw her rapidly gain back her mass and drop to the ground like a stone.
Something was very wrong. I shouted her name and she barely responded, only focusing hazily when I grab her around her middle and hoist her up and over so she’s facing up. Her eyes are unfocused and I honestly can’t tell if she can recognize me. Her face is scary pale, drips of perspiration dotting her forehead and along the bridge of her nose. I want to laugh in relief when she finally responds, her voice crackling and light, the reply enough to encourage me she’s going to be okay. Until my eyes settle on her side, where her hands are clenched so tight I bet she’d have marks left on her palms from where her nails were digging in. Between her finger tips and soaking into her dress, I see the familiar and tell tale spread of black. She’s bleeding.
How the hell is she bleeding? Obnoxious whimpers remind me we aren’t alone, and my head whips to the side, fixing my gaze firmly on the girl surrounded by my creations. Did she do this? I’m going to tear her to shreds-at least that’s what I plan, before the light pressure on my jacket halts my steps.
She croaks out she needs blood before looking past me at the snivelling mess. If she needs blood to heal, I’ll get her all the blood she needs. Starting with the blood of the stupid bitch who hurt her, and anyone else it’ll take to make her better.
will there be more chapter to bride?
i love your writing and also have a great day or night
Yes there will! I update every day! (About an hour or so from now)
I can tag you if youd like! And if you ever want a bit more i do update a chapter ahead on AO3!
Heres the link to it on AO3! Ill be updating in an hour or so, let me know if you want to be added to my tags!