Real Waifus Bang You!
Xytegenia Mod!
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Fucking what? No! My dream, my rules
The pop up screen is floating behind me when I turn around and try to glide away from the madness into the Ethereal Void.
God. Fucking. Just relax Seru, you have blood pressure to consider. Rip ROBs head off later. I exhale, poke Yang because I don't care, and wait. "You have selected Yang Xiao Long! Confirm Choice and move to Character Creation?" Yes, let's move this along. "All Huntresses have an irresistible urge to coddle and smother you. The stronger the Huntress, the more they feel you are a helpless little civilian who needs to be protected, and owes them a debt of favour for their assistance! Unfortunately, this comes with a downside, dear Huntsman. They all expect that you belong to them. Pay undue affection to another woman after the first… See how it goes."
I don't even bother opening my eyes. Fuck this. I take a few calming breaths. And then a few dozen more. A straw is slipped into my mouth, and the pacifying chill of icy green tea slips into my mouth as I suck reflexively. "You know why I can't let you go." I can still hear the monitor. And the constant single tone. "You thought you could endure. You did valiantly. Got everything in order. They want for nothing. The wound of your absence is made softer by the death poem, and the look of relief in your features. You are free. Please, let me help you. You have nothing more to do there. You have a purpose, and a duty here."
"Do not speak to me of Duty, or of Service! You, who has no concept akin to it! Never have you sacrificed for another!" I whirled on the speaker, and leveled enraged gaze. He spoke of purpose!? "My purpose was the defense of Kin, and caring of Hearth! Faith, Family, Farm, all taken from me!?" I roared, and the formless figure hugged me, holding me around shoulders and chest as I let out all the despair and pain. "All my sacrifice, every moment of restraint, every instance of repressed desire, all of it, every fucking Planck time…."
"I should have been Forthright with you. The wound was… not supposed to happen." The figure somehow brought the straw to my lips again, and I was drinking, feeling the chill of calm in my blood again. "This is the distilled essence of peace, enlightenment, and detachment. Drink, my lost soul." More and more flooded me, and I found my eyes closing. "I'll take care of things. I'm sorry for your loss." The peace of death passing over me. "Malachite lays dead, Letstone has saved Avacyn, and Nanashi has saved Lodis. None of this will follow you. Stop holding back, listen to… La Palabras de Amor." The voice had been free of gender, but the singing was feminine. "I reign with my left hand, I rule with my right, I'm Lord of all Darkness, I'm Queen of the Night…" the figure was cradling me as the cold fluid moved through me. I… I tried to fight it. I didn't want to pass on. "I've got the power…." I was fading fast.
…
…
"My life is in your hands, I'll fo and I'll fie, I'll be what you make me, I'll do what you like… I'll be a bad boy, I'll be your bad boy… I'll do the March of the Black Queen…" humming to myself, I let hot water flow over me, the shower warming bones and relaxing muscle. I exhaled, and let the unknotting sound of muscles popping and bones creaking soothe wounded ego, and injured pride. I had been accepted into Beacon. But it had been 'in spite' of combat ability, not because of it.
"It's a good thing we teach you to fight. You lack everything but killing instinct, and technique. And that's the one thing we try to restrain. Your academics got you in, and your conditioning is excellent, though your Aura is worryingly low. Remedial combat training, and we will revisit this at the end of the semester." Glynda Goodwitch had given me an appraising eye when she said that. "You purposely restrained from relying on your semblance, and that played into your favour. I want to see you maintain this habit. That ability is better hidden from any but the Grimm. If you did not overwhelmingly excel in every other area, your dismal Aura level would see us reject you for your own safety. Your blows fall as fresh snow, and your shield is as paper."
God forbid the Schnee bastard be given the chance to cut loose. Can't offend the cunts who own far too much for their own good. Hot water rapidly chilled as I felt the small glyph form in my hand. Glyph magic like the Schnee's, it normally needed dust. But I had mastered something else. I had sacrificed a chunk of my aura, twisting and corrupting my semblance with the help of that Witch, but I had power beyond anything they could understand.
All for the price of giving half my living aura to a Witch, God forbid she hear me call her that. I would have given more. I drank her blood when it was proffered, and let her violate my body by welcoming her into my bed. White hair corrupted to bloody red, and icy blue eyes to venomous green. All things that separated me from Jacques Schnee, the pretender who neglected my mother, and his bastard progeny. Not that my actual 'father' was much better. He obtained a blood sample from Bianca Schnee when he presided over Winter's birth, and…
I did not come into this world through the waters of the womb. I awoke on an operating table, lab notes strewn around, and Doctor Merlot bleeding out, smiling as a Beowulf tried to devour me. I thrust my hand into it's chest, and drew the beast into me. It had vanished into motes of bloody crimson light, but not before Merlot died by an Arc's longsword. I was taken in by Aramis Arc as his youngest, a full decade and a half younger than any of my 'sisters', but the heir to his techniques, his methods, and his morals. Lord-Father Arc is a Paragon, and should I carry myself with one tenth his nobility, mankind will be the better for it.
I wear Peter Emile as my moniker to protect us both from questions. Forged transcripts, bought and paid for, with steady side work thanks to less reputable connections, my Lord-Father telling me that nobility did not spring solely from law. Sometimes, a good man can do better in a den of filth by setting fine and honourable example. I find myself doing this easily enough as one of Junior's enforcers. A bit of work here, an application of the healing magic of my semblance there, and all is well. I walk out of the shower to find, cruelly, a woman in my bed who is not there to relieve my frustrations. The poor thing is bleeding all over my nice clean sheets, eliciting a sigh, and my mumbling the incantation under breath, before I watch her wounds close. The look of apathy on my face tells her to scatter, but she persists.
"Roman said you had something like this. A power to heal at range, and a brilliant light show to accompany. I would like to hire you on retainer." I kept the apathetic mask on my face as I gestured for her to stand, changing my bedding as she spoke. "One thousand lien, and you make yourself available to my organization and I for healing at all times. Monthly. I gain priority over anything other than your hunter missions, you cut classes for me if need be."
"By what measure would I be forced to give priority. Your language suggests more, Maiden, than just my healing talents. I do not sell my sword arm unknowingly." She was smirking at me. Her eyes were a piercing gold, and I felt… uneasy. This was not a woman to be trifled with. Her hands reached my wrist, and pulled it to be around her waist as she shifted to be flush against me, raven dark hair intermixing with my crimson as she rested her chin on my shoulder, dipping me back, and asserting dominance despite her shorter height.
"... Mmm… fifteen hundred lien, and your seed and muscle belong to me alongside your soul, Arc." She had beautiful eyes, and the structure of her face was not unpleasing to me. "I know all about how you Arcs think about yourselves. Daddy would have hidden it from Mommy, and his baby girls, not truly as twisted as the Grandfather, but he taught you, and what he didn't teach, those books on Knighthood did. I know what you believe of Faunus, and what you believe of yourself. Never mind what I can make you think of me."
Her hands gripping my clothing as she pushed me back, balled fists holding cloth above my shoulders, she rode my falling body into the bed, straddling my waist. "Salem took an interest in you, Arc. Consider this as much from her as from me." Her lips met my cheek, and then my shoulder, drawing just a hint of blood "Swear yourself to me, Arc. I will make you worthy of your name." The look of concern in my eyes seemed to embolden her. "Your life set in my hands, you'll fo and you'll fie, you'll be what I make you, you'll do what I like, you'll be a bad boy, you'll be my bad boy…" Her kiss was scalding hot. "You'll do the March of the Black Queen…"
I kissed back for a few scant seconds, wanting that intense fire. I grasped for it vainly, before I pulled away. "Stop. I can not in good faith enter such a contract. My loyalty is owed to my Kin, and my fellow Hunters. To say nothing of the people of the Four Kingdoms. I can not sell myself to you without the consent of my Father, my Team, and my Headmaster." She was bent over me, Raven hair falling to curtain us. Her golden eyes bore into my own, before she hovered there, waiting to see me flinch. After almost a minute, she sighed, grabbing my wrist, and twisting it just so to leave me remembering the encounter in my bones. Onto my exposed ring finger of my left hand, she slipped a black metal ring, before closing it in her fist.
"If you will not enter into a binding pact with me, I will mark you none the less, Arc. You will be mine one day." I did not scream as she enwreathed my hand in hellfire born from some black womb, but instead grit my teeth, and endured. Flesh, muscle, bone, and black metal seemingly fused, before she let go of my hand, and I was left panting, and suppressing tears of pain. "The ring is not to be trifled with, Arc. Heal it, if you so desire, but make no attempt to remove it if you value your hand. Know the name of your mistress, Cinder Fall." She reached down, grasping my jaw in her hand, before ravaging my mouth with another kiss. "And doubt not that I love you." She stood from me, and walked out, idly tossing a fistful of Lien cards at me as if I was some common whore.
I could rail at this injustice, attempt to strike back at her, or… I could accept that this was part of my life now. It spoke volumes of my mental health that I merely whispered the benediction to my foreign God's and watched the hand heal. My loyalty was tested sorely, by Cinder. I had lied, but I would not let it weigh on me. I had the one I loved, once I found a way to be with her, I would leave all of this emotional pain and muck behind. Cinder was correct, in small ways. I would fo and fie. But I was not marching to her tune. The Witch had twisted me, and taken half my light. But it had been only at another's command. Green hair flashed before my eyes, as I remembered phantom kisses, my beloved's touch on mine. I but had to accomplish my tasks, and find a vessel to bring her back to me.
My hand was free of scars or wounds, but I could see that the ring was fused into my finger. I flexed it without issue, but the presence would likely annoy. Dressing in loose breeches and long sleeved shirt, decent boots over soft calf length stocking, I pulled on leather gloves to mask the damage done to my hands. I would need to modernize my wardrobe, but I had a thousand lien to make disappear. The Malachite twins would be ecstatic with the eight hundred I gave them for a budget. Two hundred I slipped into my wallet to safely purchase more functional clothing in Atlas style, though my own personal crimson and blacks in colour. I will be damned if I do not have something functional and comfortable for sleeping in.
I heard the sound of gunfire, grabbed my sword, and leapt clear of the stairwell, kicking off the wall, rolling into the Balcony overlooking the club. Junior's enforcers fighting… Shit. Yang Xiao Long. One of the Fate-Kissed Huntresses the Witch warned me of. Cinder was one as well, but I had not wanted to even think of such around her. I took a running start, leapt, one foot found the rail as I flipped my sword in mid air, grabbing it by the blade, and twisting my body.
Yang Xiao Long reached the Apex of her jump, and took the crossguard of my great sword into her sternum as I intercepted her. I let go of the blade, slapping it to land flat against the tile as I rode Miss Xiao Long, grabbing at her hands, and locking my knees on her waist, into the dance floor. We both made an awkward squeaking sound as we slid across it, but there was no explosion, no damage. Nothing a mop would not handle. "Enough! Whatever grievance you have with my employer, it ends here. Or I will break you over my knee!" Crimson eyes burrowed into mine, and she had a cocksure grin on her features.
"Junior didn't tell me he had a hottie on staff. And here I thought I was going to need to whip his men and his bitches. But you… You are so outclassed that I am going to enjoy breaking you in. By the end of this, you will call me Sir." She was licking her lips, and brute forced her way to her feet as I rolled backwards, bleeding any momentum clean and with two hand signals, I was catching one of the Enforcers cleavers before they were running to get my great sword. I sank into a crouch, blade held over my body in a defensive stance. I knew taking on anyone who was kissed by fate was asking for trouble, but I had no choice. This was Sacred Ground to me, my employers holdings. These men were fed and watered from proceeds this club earned.
I would not let her destroy it. "This need not end in bloodshed, Huntress! Stand down, and I will see about meeting your demands." I gathered Aura into my hand, forming the Glyph with breathed words and will. Pale blue and white light formed, this art the closest in appearance though a far cry from the true Schnee Glyphs in effect. She looked torn, staring at me, before she set her stance. "Yang! This is idiotic, do not make me file charges against you. This is a legitimate business, and I am a Knight of Known Lineage. No matter how questionable the pedigree of the owner, my word backing his will see you imprisoned. Your career, dashed on the rocks of cruel fate! For what? This is the better path."
"Your employer knows something about my Mother!" Her face was tense. Hell, her whole body was tense. No, this would devolve if no one told her what she wanted. I could bluff her, but that would be ill advised. Better to give her the scraps I do know, and end this without further conflict. "I'll walk away if I get some information on her, as well as…" She was looking at me appraisingly, halfway between sizing me up as an opponent, and the look of a hungry panther at wounded prey. "You taking me drinking after this. You are so tightly wound that if I don't loosen those springs and clear those pipes, the pressure will kill you, and then the world will be deprived those wonderful green eyed babies. Granted they will be strawberry blonde, but that is life."
"I fail to see what bearing any hypothetical children between myself and Glynda Goodwitch will have on this, but I will accept those terms. I happen to have heard a handful of rumours on Raven Branwen. What is your preferred Alcohol?" I exhaled a relaxed breath. Her proposal, even if she attempted unwelcome sexual acts, was a far cry less dangerous than an all out war in Junior's club. I twisted the spell, crushing the glyph in hand, and bolstered my own valour. I would need it to make it through the night. I turned towards the bar, and made it two steps, reaching to withdraw some of the Lien I had been so coarsely handed by Cinder when I felt a hand on the back of my neck, and one on my wrist, before my temple was held into the bar. She had an excellent hold, and I did not bother trying to break out of it.
"Tell me what I want to hear, then we can bother with the sweet talking." She was close, far, far closer than I wanted her, and there was so much heat. I felt my blood boil as she pressed in, deeper, harder against me. Her uncomfortably warm breath on my ear as she spoke, followed by her hair touching my everywhere as she leaned in, before she was kissing my jawline, feather light things that disturbed my ease, even though I was filled with ensorcelled valour.
"Raven Branwen, suspected leader of the Tigers of Burnham, a Mistrali Bandit faction based in the Valerian Isle, currently believed to be seeking the Relics of Xenobia. She has found the Armband of Floran, but has yet to locate the King's Grail, or the Holy Sword Brynhildr, nor the Zodiac Stones and their companion, the Fireseal. Last known location was the ruins of Fortress Phidoch, the last remaining structure in Valeria after the Grimm invasion five hundred years ago. She engaged three full Haven teams, trounced them, and sent them back to Leonheart with shattered limbs and ribs." I knew this much because I sought all those myself. My love was separated from me by millennia. I had but to gather those relics, and open the Chaos Gate with the fitting sacrifice… and I would drag time back before the Grimm began.
Even though the Arcs were descended from Lodis, and my love had feared them… I would cross that gap in due time. The pressure lightened, and I pulled myself to standing before I had a young blonde woman straddling me on the bar. I grabbed behind the counter top to balance myself, and she smirked hungrily at the unease crossing my expression. "Oh, fear not my noble knight, I am not going to do anything untowards to your patrons precious club. The only thing on my mind right now is that bottle of Mistrali Ouzo behind you, and, of course… Me-n-u." She walked her fingers up my chest as if they were a spider, grabbed my hair by the tie of it's ponytail, and yanked me into a hungry kiss. It was only a young woman in Lolita Gothic garb that saved my mouth from any more abuse.
"Yang? What are you doing here?" Ruby Rose, another Fate-Kissed. Damnit all. Yang held a finger over my mouth as she straightened, and pressed me into the bar. "Is this a new boyfriend? Mom got annoyed that the last one skittered away when uncle Qrow tossed him through a tree during training. He had the manners but no courage." Yang was looking pensive for a few seconds longer than I liked.
No. Nonono… No! Do not fucking think it! "... You know what Ruby, you caught me." She grabbed me by the collar, hauling me to my feet, before taking another hot, lustful kiss. "Little sis, this is my new boyfriend…" She had fingertips pushing just a little painfully into my kidney.
"Peter Emile, son of Aramis Arc, charmed, I'm sure, Miss Rose." She was clinging to me. She had not even bothered with the courtesy to cross the points between herself and I in a perceived manner, simply blurring before there was a lamprey attached to my side. I was six foot four inches, and built at a firm two thirty five. I was teetering onto the bar, with this new devil crawling up my arm to hug me like a spider monkey.
I closed my eyes, restrained a sigh of frustration, and let her cling to my back as she found purchase there. "Yang! He smells like strawberries and cream! My eyes don't see any Grimm corruption, though there is a significant wound to his soul, and he is only mildly annoyed that you are pressuring him into this!" Yang was blushing, whilst I exhaled again, this one edging into a sigh. "I know your last boyfriend was almost angry when you sprung the family on him." Interesting. Her ability only reads falsehood and feeling, but not about WHAT. I could work with this. She seemed to like my shampoo at least. Now she was burying her face into my neck. "Honey and Vanilla body wash. Hey, he uses Mom's brand!" God save me from inquisitive women.
Yang had a… fondly exasperated expression on her face. One of Junior's men had my sword, and handed it off, collecting his cleaver and backing off whilst Junior put a brave face on in the exposure to my own mouthed 'kill me!'. Both Malachite sisters were hiding their amusement. "Peter. Shoo, just get them out of my club. Take the week off. Miltia has your bug out bag." I caught it deftly, and was dragged out of the bar by Yang and her sister. Damn you Junior! He even had the 'charity' of including two bottles of Ouzo to lubricate things. Alongside condoms, actual lube, and massage oil. This was Melanie's handiwork, the threat that she would get me laid before Beacon coming true at last. May all three rot in the Abyss! Cursed traitors all!
