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teeth-n-ambitions · 25 days

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Yours (pt 4)

This is all I have left. There's a gap in between because I'd lost motivation for that part and moved ahead, but I never got to going back and bridging it. So apologies for the incomplete story. Thank you all again for reading and I can't wait to bring these characters back in their new forms!

@deluxewhump @whumpyourdamnpears

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

TW: blood, nudity, vampire whump, lady whump, possesive whumper, manipulation, pet whump, discussion of noncon/dubcon, implied human trafficking, knives, stabbing

Two weeks’ time brought Venette back to the manor, both her pets in tow. Cassara hosted them in another sitting room this time, still with couches and the works, but this one missing a table, leaving more room in the middle to sit on the rug. Lila sat on the ground below Cassara’s couch. Venette lounged on her own, Bram and Marie on the ground as well.

Jealousy or unease, something Lila couldn’t quite pick apart, gripped her the moment she saw them. Venette took excessive pride in the perfect coordination of their outfits. They stuck with the same color palette; where Venette wore blue her humans wore white, and where she wore white they wore blue. The two also had matching string-laced tops, tugged somewhat loose, ends dangling on their chests, paired with the same tight trousers as well.

Marie was the taller of the two. Wavy auburn hair sat just atop her shoulders, perfectly framing her spotless face. Not a freckle, nor scar, nor acne, nothing. It was as if her skin was entirely new. Lila considered herself fairly clean, but Marie made her feel dirty, oily, unkempt. And, based on the slight curl of her mouth and gleam in her gray eyes, she knew it. Perhaps that was even her intention.

Bram, as Venette had introduced, was the eldest, both in age and ownership. He wasn’t older by much, but he’d been with Venette nearly three years before Marie came into the picture. Thus, though still young, signs of wear had already settled into his skin, whatever fire in his blue, blue eyes long exhausted. Most noticeably were the scars about his lips—two clean slashes starting just above the upper lip and intersecting just where his mouth opened, and ending just at the end of the bottom lip. Yet it didn’t take away from his regal appearance. He looked every bit as fresh as Marie did, with his platinum blonde hair tied into a small low ponytail by a blue bow, not a single strand out of place. Only the smugness was missing.

From behind, Cassara’s hand threaded through her hair, gently massaging her head.

“Go on, dear,” she said. “Say hello.”

Of the things she still hated, this new anxiety was one of them. Lila was certain she never had a problem with new people. So why, then, was her throat so dry? Why couldn’t she keep her eyes focused on them? Why did she want to hide so badly?

She swallowed, managed a quick “Hi,” just loud enough to hear. Sitting on his knees, palms flat on his legs, Bram slightly bowed his head.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he returned. Marie mimicked the action.

“A pleasure indeed.”

They turned their heads back to Venette who—sporting a shameless smirk—nodded curtly. Then to Cassara, Bram asked,

“May we approach her?”

Lila’s shoulders tensed.

“Of course,” Cassara chimed. Her fingers moved to scratch behind Lila’s ear. “Calm down, darling. I’m right here.”

Right there, right there. Yes. They couldn’t do anything to her with Cassara just behind her. That was supposed to be comforting. Not shameful. She was being good. Cassara would protect her if she was good.

So she willed herself to breathe, slowly dropping her shoulders as they crawled over. They stopped within an inch of her crossed legs and sat back onto their knees. Marie went straight for her hair.

“A braid would do nicely with this density,” she concluded. From her couch, Venette clapped her hands once, loud enough to make Lila flinch. Marie’s hand froze at the sound. She jerked her hand back into her lap, cast her eyes down.

“Sorry,” she muttered. Cassara waved her hand in dismissal.

“Oh, that’s alright. They may touch her as long as they’re careful.”

“But next time you’ll ask first. Right, Marie?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she answered. “Sorry, Mistress.”

Funny, Lila thought, as Venette herself touched her hair just last week without asking her or Cassara. Not that she would say so.

“Venette,” Cassara proposed, “Why don’t we give them some space to get acquainted? I have some dresses I wanted you opinion on.”

Her hand retreated from Lila’s hair, pulling a small whine out of her. She chuckled.

“Just for a little while, sweet.” As she rose she bent to press a fragile kiss to Lila’s head. “You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Bram twisted towards Venette. “Mistress, may I please have the chess set I asked to bring along?” And back to Lila, “I was told you didn’t know how to play. I can teach you, if you like.”

Venette made a point, when she came over, of not relinquishing the said chess set to Bram.

“Best behavior,” she said. “And no noise.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

She released her grip, patted his head before following Cassara out of the room. A few moment’s silence hung in the air. Probably to ensure they were truly alone. Marie ended it first, rubbing her neck.

“I’m in so much trouble when we get home.” She groaned. “I can’t believe I forgot that.”

“She’ll go easy on you.” Bram nonchalantly retrieved the wooden pieces from the drawer of the chess box, eyes fixed on the board. “You know she will. Especially if you beg how she likes.” On alternating squares he arranged the brown pieces on Lila’s side, the cream ones on his own. “She probably just wanted to show off, anyway. Don’t worry about it. I agree about the braid, though.”

“You can if you still want,” Lila offered. “Braid my hair, I mean.”

She scooted forward to give Marie more room to kneel behind her. It hurt a little, when she tugged to separate the strands, but her hands were warm, something she’d nearly forgotten was real.

“You don’t deserve to be punished,” she added. “She did the exact same thing to me last week.”

“Oh, but I do. Her rules are only for us, and if my mistake isn’t corrected I’ll start forgetting all of them. Bram’s right, anyhow. I’m her favorite.”

Marie straightened at the thought. Bram’s demeanor remained unchanged. Suddenly he sighed, long and heavy, hands pulling back to his lap.

“I know you want to ask something. Just keep your voice down.”

Lila licked her dry lips.

“Yeah, okay.” She tapped a finger against her leg. “How long have you been with Venette?”

“Five years,” Marie said from behind.

“Coming upon ten years,” Bram added. “Eight and a half next month. What else?”

“Do you like it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” came from both of them. Bram continued, “We’re grateful. No hard choices, every need met, constant attention—our Mistress cares for us well.” A pause. “We’re lucky to be hers.”

A final pull on her hair, and Marie flipped Lila’s new braid over her shoulder.

“What do you think?”

Lila took it in her hand and let her fingers run down to the end, thumbing where each section overlapped. Marie shuffled back over next to Bram and admired her handiwork.

“It would be better if your hair was longer,” she said. Bram actually lifted his head.

“Marie, it looks fine. You look fine, Lila.”

“Whatever,” Marie ran a hand through her own hair. “At least I know how. You still need help.”

Bram didn’t react, consciously or unconsciously. No eye roll, no mouth twitches. Nothing. As if he didn’t even know she was speaking. Instead he picked up one of the chess pieces, fiddling with it in his hands.

“Anything else?” He sighed. “Or can we play now?”

Lila held onto her braid, loving the novelty of it, watched Marie move on to mess with Bram’s hair. She undid the bow holding his ponytail in place and draped the ribbon over his shoulder, the end reaching a little ways below his collarbone, parallel to the exposed portion of skin where the shirt laces were loose.

Venette, uptight as she was, didn’t seem like one to let any extension of herself appear untidy, or disheveled. And she apparently liked to match, yet she hadn’t anything laced similarly on her own body. Or unlaced.

Cassara had finally given her trousers to wear, now that she was so close to being healed completely, but she was reminded of the big, formless dresses she would have her in…for ease of access.

She was suddenly awash with the sensation that something loomed behind her.

Nothing was there, when she looked, but her pulse picked up regardless.

“Does she ever—” How should she put it? “Does she ever, uh, tou—touch you?”

Bram’s eyebrows knit together.

“You just saw her pat my head not too long ago.”

“No,” she said, mouth growing drier. “I mean like—You know like—”

She balled her hand on her knee as her face screwed in concentration. Marie stopped braiding Bram’s hair to watch her flounder as he did, quirked an eyebrow.

“Like—like—” Her other hand flexed around her braid. “Cassara, she—sometimes, sometimes we—when she—I—” Her skin was burning at that point. Bram turned back for a moment to exchange some indecipherable look with Marie, then cautiously asked,

“Are you trying to say ‘intimately?’ Is that it?”

She nodded, unsure if it was better or worse that he understood.

“Well, of course,” Bram said. “That was one of the first things they told me before I was bought, that it’s common. Did your handlers not tell you?”

“Cassara found me. I never had a handler.”

Marie grimaced, sucking air through her teeth. Bram elbowed her behind him.

“What?” Lila whipped her head around, expecting someone to be behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re lucky it’s just a soirée,” Marie said. “If it were a full-scale party…”

“What?”

“Next month,” Bram clarified. “One of Mistress and Lady Cassara’s friends is hosting a small gathering. You have to have a human to be invited, but it’s poor etiquette to do anything of that caliber in that situation. Others, not so much.”

“Oftentimes the ‘entertainment’ of the evening is just hurting whatever pets are around.” Marie went back to braiding Bram’s hair. “But sometimes they let each other get intimate with us. They think it’s funny when the newer ones beg and cry. Bram is usually one of the ones someone will take away for a little while.”

He seemed to age several years as soon as she said it. His eyes fell to the little wooden knight in his hand.

“Mistress says I’m prettier when I’m broken,” he muttered. “She likes sharing me because I’m scared of all her friends, and they don’t care what hurts or not. So by the time she wants me to herself I’m already a mess.”

Lila had the urge to hold his hand, or at least pat his knee, but his eyes were starting to glass over.

“Do you…want it?” Lila asked. “Cassara says I’m supposed to.”

“She knows how to make me feel good. And it makes her happy when I behave. I want her to be happy.”

“But, if you could, would you tell her no?”

Marie’s hands stilled again, this time keeping her gaze fixed on Bram’s hair. He licked his lips.

“I love her,” he said, more to himself than to Lila. “She bought me, she takes care of me. I wouldn’t dream of denying Mistress what’s rightfully hers.”

If they hadn’t looked towards it as well, Lila would’ve thought she imagined the crash somewhere outside of the room.

“Oh, here we go again,” Maire said. She ran her fingers gently down Bram’s hair, dissolving the braid, then took the ribbon and retied it into a ponytail. Bram pulled open the little drawer of his chess set.

“I guess I’ll just teach you next time.”

Closer now, Lila recognized both Cassara and Venette’s voices, though much louder than she’d ever heard them. The words “bitch” and “wench” caught her ear.

“Um,” She looked between the nearing shouts and the two unfazed people in front of her, calmly lining up the chess pieces inside the drawer. “Are you sure there’s going to be a next time?”

“They’re always doing this,” Bram puffed. “You watch—next time they see each other it will be like it never happened.”

“I give them two and a half weeks maximum,” Marie added.

Suddenly Cassara was behind her, hefting her to her feet by her braid while Venette fumed in the doorway waiting for her own pets to gather themselves. Neither of them would even sneak a tiny glance in Lila’s direction on their way over. No, they kept their spines straight and their eyes trained forward. They trailed behind her as she stomped to the front doors, obedient ducklings in tight formation. Cassara wanted to see them out, and so pulled along a grunting and cursing Lila by the braid, forcing her to hunch forward as she tripped over her unhealed ankle.

Just at the threshold Venette pivoted round and took a few large steps back towards Cassara, shoulders raised and arched back.

“You know,” she snarled. “It takes an obscene amount of nerve to rebuke an expert’s guidance when you know next to nothing about the subject.”

“And it takes an obscene amount of narcissism to assume you’re any more an expert than I am simply because you taught your stupid ‘pretties’ to cry on command.”

“I only offered to help you! Just to get her fully controlled so you can handle her better! But whatever,” she scoffed. “Have fun with that carrion you call a pet. I’m sure you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Nose in the air, she huffed her way back to the entrance, making a point not to turn around before the doors shut behind her little entourage.

Lila thought the calm, collected anger was frightening. But Cassara’s fist quivered in her hair, the vibration racking through Lila’s body like an earthquake. Her chest tightened.

“Cassara?” she tried. “Is ev—”

“Quiet.”

And so she hauled Lila back down the hall, fast enough that Lila actually tripped, her hair taut from Cassara’s grip, making her yelp. Cassara scowled down at her.

“You’re pathetic,” she growled. “Get back up or I’ll drag you just as you are.”

“I need help.”

Lila reached up, only for Cassara to yank her to her feet by her hair and ignore her cries as she immediately resumed storming through the manor. Lila’s stomach dropped as soon as she recognized the door they eventually stopped at.

“Absolutely ridiculous.”

Cassara flung her through the doorway and onto the stone floor of what Lila had affectionately deemed the torture room. Like last time, she was ignored in favor of the wall (to which some shelves had apparently been added), though with less calculation and more impulse. Lila unsuccessfully tried to rub her aching scalp and ankle at the same time.

Atop one of the shelves sat a black box with a little bronze latch for Cassara to flick open and wrench several throwing knives from. They glinted in the light, most likely newly acquired. Wordlessly, she put them all into a hand, went back over to Lila and yanked her by the hair again to her feet, and pulled her to the back of the room to slam her back into the wall, keeping an arm’s length between them.

“Stay put,” she ordered through her teeth. “I don’t want to see you move a centimeter unless I say to.”

She let the braid fall down to Lila’s head and returned to the opposite end of the room before giving Lila the chance to respond. From her grip she took a knife, tossed it up.

“I invite her to my home,” caught the handle, reared it back. “Con—" this she grunted with the exertion of hurling the knife towards Lila. “—fide in her,” it jammed itself into the wall just above Lila’s head. “And what does she do?”

Another one thunked beside her ear.

“Get her fully controlled,” she scoffed, throwing three more in rapid succession. “Yellow trollop can’t even pretend she isn’t the biggest two-faced brat to walk the earth.”

Every knife struck the wall exactly an inch from Lila’s body, though the precision failed to calm her in the slightest. Head to toe she trembled, straining not to jump as she was gradually outlined in blades.

When the quick footsteps replaced the whiz of flying projectiles, Lila pried open her eyes, clamped shut as if she worried someone would rip them out. Her heart lunged at the sight of Cassara coming back.

“My lady,” she breathed, aching to collapse to the vampire’s chest and be held. “Are w—”

“Shut up.”

Cassara stopped, again, an arm’s length from her, fixed her eyes on the knives as she yanked each one from the wall. The command was curt, skirting the line between a growl and a hiss. Lila shrank back.

“My la—”

A bouquet of knives pushed to her throat. Her breathing shallowed.

“I told you—” Definitely a growl this time. “—to shut up. Don’t make me do something you’ll regret, mutt.”

Lila tried to meet her eyes, look for the tenderness (or, rather, an approximation of it) that she’d begun to associate with their color. Instead the sharp emptiness triggered the awful swell of tears beneath her eyes. She let her gaze drop in place of a response.

Cassara huffed, but pulled the knives back, returned to her place across the room.

“Spread your arms and legs out.” Her fingers flexed around the handle of one of her weapons. “Make an X.”

Lila obeyed, and Cassara rolled her shoulders.

The next few shots were more haphazard, severing stray hairs, grazing skin. It’s not long until she slipped back into her vent.

“As if I would just hand over my hard-earned trophy for her voyeuristic foolishness.”

Bram’s face flashed inside Lila’s mind. The thought of him among malicious strangers, of his eyes turning foggy before being shoved somewhere hidden. And then it was her, dragged by the wrist by someone who wasn’t Cassara. Cassara letting her be taken away. Being touched by someone she didn’t belong to.

She was hyperventilating. She wasn’t sure if she’s done that before. She—she needed—

“Cassara!” She would make her head stop swimming. She had to. “Please,” she begged through tears. “I ca—”

��Do you want your tongue cut out?”

Cassara stormed over, seconds away from strangling her. Lila resisted the urge to run to her.

“Please touch me,” she cried. That’s what worked last time. Cassara was safe. Cassara loved her. “I need you, I need you. I’ve been good. Please.”

The words had hardly left her mouth before Cassara, a knife in each hand, pulled her hands back over her shoulders and, with every last bit of force she could summon, thrust the blades straight through Lila’s palms.

Her scream managed to disrupt her breathing, but the fire consuming her hands made her forget that problem entirely.

“How many times do we have to go over this?” Cassara had yet to let go of the knives pinning Lila to the wall. “You don’t need anything unless I say so. You don’t do anything unless I say so. I decide whether you’ve been good. You really think you deserve to be touched after disobeying me twice? Are you honestly so brainless as to think that’s being good?”

Lila was crying now, biting her lip to keep from making any more noise.

“Your life is mine, remember? I could take you into the darkest part of the wood and leave you there, if I wanted. Let the beasts pick your bones clean.” Cassara took one of the knives from the wall, pressed the tip of the blade to the hollow of her jaw beneath her chin. “I could make you watch me open your pretty torso and yank out everything inside you. Start right here,” She just barely broke skin. “And go all—” She drew out the word as she glided the blade down her body. “—the way down…” With extra pressure, she pressed the knife to the skin just beneath her stomach. “Here. And no one would stop me. No one would pity you. Because you’re my little plaything to do everything I want with. My pet to pamper or punish as I please.”

Cassara pushed the blade a little harder, a little sob bubbling out of Lila’s mouth.

“But I’m going to be gracious and let you learn from this instead. If you want to, that is.”

“I do,” Lila wheezed.

“Beg.”

Her impulse was to drop to her knees, but the tug on her hands sacrificed more nerves to the blades impaling them. Out leapt a shuddering gasp as her tear ducts doubled their efforts.

“Please…” Lila’s faced screwed in pain. The initial sear was deescalating to a persistent burn, much easier to manage, yet still throbbing and spiking in waves. Distantly, Lila felt her leg muscles ache to move. A different kind of burn. Cassara slipped her knife just beneath Lila’s top, digging the point into the fat of her stomach.

“Beg me to teach you a lesson,” she ordered. “To remind you of your place. Otherwise I’ll kill you right here.”

She reached up, blade tip just peeking out the collar, and slowly dug a little red trench down through skin. Lila swallowed.

“Please help me,” she whimpered. “H—help me remember m—” She hissed when Cassara abruptly slashed the rest of the way down. “Please teach me my place. Please, please I’m just—I’m—I’m just—”

“Stupid,” Cassara said. “A stupid animal. A stupid, stupid little whelp who needs her master to keep her in line. Say it.”

“I’m a stupid ani—” Lila sobbed. Cassara was dragging the blade back up through the wound she’d made. “Animal and I need you to keep me in my place. Please, my lady. Please help me be good. Please.”

Though not much, a thin line of blood soaked through her top, some of which clung to the knife pulling back from her body. Cassara turned it in her hand, licked it clean with a single swipe of the tongue. Lila could feel the bile wanting erupt from her stomach.

(This is the outline I'd written for what happened next. Sorry it isn't more.

[Cassara puts the knives away and takes a pitch fork off the wall, and tells Lila she can scream and cry all she wants but if she hears one more word from her she’ll rip her throat out] [She shoves it into Lila’s torso and punctures it, though not deep enough to hit an organ] [With the prong in her flesh Cassara asks Lila why she had spoken when she’d been told not to] [Lila at first worries if this is a test, and Cassara tells her, calmer, that she may speak now. Lila says she was scared of the idea of Venette taking her and wanted Cassara to hold her to make her feel better] [Cassara pulls the knives out and Lila crumples to her knees] [Cassara is delighted that she sought her out for comfort and tells Lila she would never let anything like that happen to her] [The she puts the pitch fork to her back and steps on it, and adds as long as she behaves. Venette wanted her bad, but Cassara loved her too much. But if she can’t learn to obey she’ll have to give her away.] [Lila is quiet, so Cassara presses harder on the pitch fork and says speak] [Lila apologizes and begs her to keep her, and that she’ll be better, that she doesn’t want to leave her] [Cassara smiles at this, having finally gotten exactly what she wanted from her, and pulls out the pitch fork and puts it away]

And resume)

“You will heal. This, however,” Her nails just barely grazed Lila’s neck, over the bite wound that had just begun to seal itself, and Lila shuddered. “I want to be permanent. Much prettier than a collar, I think.”

Cassara tilted Lila’s head up ever so delicately. She wanted to wrap her arms around Cassara’s middle, or try to kiss her, or bury herself in her silken hair, anything, as long as she was touching her. But this was the end of it. Perform a little bit longer, let Cassara satisfy whatever hunger she was indulging. And then it’d be over.

Cassara gently needled the wound with her fangs, barely there, and Lila moaned, low and hollow, and it reminded Cassara of a puppy trying to howl. She pressed harder, and Lila sucked in a shuddering breath.

And then she forced her fangs through the bruised skin, tearing it open anew, deep enough that her gums were close to touching it. Lila shrieked, and Cassara smiled against her neck.

But she didn’t feed (much). Lila would likely lose consciousness otherwise, and Cassara wanted her awake for all of this, so she only held for a moment. Just enough to make it scar.

“There,” she said, drawing back. “Now everyone who sees you will know. And every time you see yourself you will remember. Tell me, what would that be, darling?”

She kept her hand on Lila’s cheek, gently pinched with her thumb and forefinger to get her to open her eyes.

“That I’m yours.”

Cassara watched the blood trickle from Lila’s neck, watched it mix with the tears running beneath her chin.

“I do hate to punish you,” she murmured. “But, there is a certain beauty in it...”

Her hand glided down Lila’s face and down her neck, nails following along her stream of tears. “How your pain cascades down your body.” Down to the sweet blood rolling beneath her shirt, dark and tempting against her skin.

“Making patterns on its own accord, natural, intricate.”

Ran her hand over her torso, trace amounts of blood staining her skin through the fabric.

“The way you tremble, so frightened, so desperate.”

Then back up, she cradled her face with both hands.

“And your sparkling eyes.” Kissed each one. “The gorgeous flush of your cheeks.”

Lila’s eyes were still watering, the pain static but still great, and Cassara licked off the salt as soon as they spilled over.

“You truly are a work of art, my starlight. My greatest masterpiece. How lucky you are to be so chosen by the universe.”

Lila felt more like she had been sacrificed. Yet, what little warmth she learned to detect was on her, cocooning her as she was gathered up in her captor’s arms, and it was her entire world. It hurt to move but she wanted to curl into Cassara’s chest until she was lost entirely. And she tried, letting out a weak cry, a stinging returning to various cuts. Cassara shushed her.

“Oh, I know sweetness, I know. You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Lila sobbed, gripping her dress, and she nuzzled the crook of Lila’s neck.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’m here. I have you.”

#whump #lady whump #vampire whump #possessive whumper #pet whump #I can't promise when I'll post the new stuff but it'll be soon. I don't write as quickly as I used to lol

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yukiwrites · 9 months

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Hubert, Kidnapping

Thanks for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This was so interesting and fun to write, I hope you like it!

Summary: Bernadetta still had an instinctive fear whenever she was near Hubert, but after he kidnapped someone important to her... she would fight her own fear to be able to see them again! Or, rather, to see it again.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

At a damp, humid corner of the greenhouse at Garreg Mach Monastery, a small figure shuffled about, caring for a container full of strange-looking plants.

“♪ Hm hm-hm-hmm... ♪'' Bernadetta held the container up, intent on moving it towards the sunlight. “Get plenty of sun, my little darlings! ♪” she singsonged, immersed in her role. “Today I’ll move you guys here… But I’ll take Venette with me to get more sunlight… She looks all droopy and sad, I’m sorry, Venny!” She patted the afflicted flower — a yellow pitcher plant that had started to wilt — very carefully after setting the container down on a more sunlit part of the greenhouse.

Direct sunlight was important for her babies, so she sometimes had to brave the outside just to let them have some air. But it was okay!! Bernie was strong enough to step out if it meant giving the flowers more sunlight!

Besides, they helped her so much by eating the insects around her room. She could keep dirty cutlery for a week without attracting as many flies because of them! Less trips to the kitchen, woo-hoo!

“So, Bernie will be strong for Venny,” she murmured, taking the pot with the flower. The moment she meant to get up, however, she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Hiick— the air feels cold somehow—”

“How intriguing.”

“HYAA!” Bernadetta jumped out of her skin, throwing Venny’s pot overhead. “H-Hubert! Oh no, Venny!!” She launched herself to catch the flying pot as soon as she noticed it, but it had flown directly into Hubert’s face. “Noo!”

“Calm yourself,” Hubert sighed as he effortlessly caught the pot, though he failed to stop the lunging Bernadetta and had to brace himself for the impact. “Urk.”

“O-owiee!” Bernadetta hit Hubert’s chest, though her forehead hit Hubert’s chin sharply, making her tumble back, holding her head in pain.

“Huff,” Hubert shook his head, massaging his chin.

Bernadetta squirmed in pain, sobbing like a frightened hamster. “O-owiee… I-I’m so sorry, Hubert! Please, please, please don’t kill me. Or worse, please don’t do anything to Venny! She has no fault in this! P-please, punish only me!” She talked big and brave, but she was just such a tiny person holding her reddening forehead with both hands.

“I have no intention of holding anyone — or rather, anything — hostage, Bernadetta. Take your plant.” He motioned Venny towards Bernadetta, but the girl jumped out in fear, taking three steps back.

“R-really? Are you really letting us go? B-but I hurt you! And you- you saved… Oh yeah, thank you for catching Venny, really.” She stopped stepping back and took a minuscule step forward. “Um, I’m sure the fall would’ve been fatal… She looks so sad lately,” she took another step, looking now only at the plant instead of the tall, broody man holding it.

“Think nothing of it. It was partly my fault for approaching without making my presence known.” Hubert urged her to take the plant, moving it closer to her. It, instead, made her flinch and take another step back, like a cautious cat. “I should have realized you would still scream at the sight of me.”

Bernadetta sniffled. “I-I’m sorry, Hubert… I’m trying, I swear! I swear I am…” She squeezed her eyes shut, taking another step forward to cover for the one she just took back.

“I can see that,” Hubert smirked, then retracted his hand with the flower. “What say you I keep this for the time being? Seeing me to instruct me on how to care for it would surely help with overcoming your fear, will it not?”

“Oh no, Venny!” She leaped forward again, but stopped in her tracks once she was close enough to touch Hubert. “You’re taking her hostage a-after all…!” She sobbed, her whole body trembling.

“Call it ‘temporary custody’ instead, if it makes you feel better,” he hummed, looking at the strange, yellow reddish plant. “I, however, have no talent in caring for flowers, so you will need to seek me out if you want her to live,” he snickered evilly.

“Vennyyy!” Bernadetta held her head with both hands, apparently forgetting about the round, red spot she had hit just a few minutes ago. “I-I’ll save you, Venny, just you wait!”

Hubert chuckled, amused at how dramatic such a simple interaction had turned out to be. “So? How should I care for it now? Or should I call it… Venny?”

Bernadetta audibly gasped. “That’s her nickname for close friends only! Her name is Venette!” She defended the honor of the plant like a knight fighting for his ladyship. That was, of course, if a knight looked like a small hamster mounted on a straw horse.

“Of course, how could I have been so rude,” Hubert played along, though not enough to bow to the plant he held. “So, how should I care for Venette? I must admit I find these little spawns of yours to be quite intriguing.”

“S-spawns… it makes me look like an evil witch or something, that’s kinda mean…” Bernadetta stuttered under her breath, shaking like a leaf. Hubert ignored or pretended not to hear what she said, instead looking at her as he waited for the answer. “Will… Will you really take care of her? She’s kinda sick right now so she needs a lot of love!”

“I cannot promise to give it ‘love’, but I am quite good at following instructions… as long as they suit me, of course,” he murmured the last part, though Bernadetta wouldn’t have heard it in her despair after hearing he couldn’t give Venny any love.

“I’ll… I’ll give her the love she needs! I can still visit her, right? I’ll visit her everyday!” She pumped her chest, then immediately regretted her words. “Every… other day? Every three days? No, no, what am I saying! Venny needs constant care! Everyday! Everyday it is!” She talked herself in and out until finally arrived at a conclusion.

“Suit yourself, then.” Hubert bobbed his head to the sides, actually surprised at himself for not realizing he was smiling through the whole interaction. “So? What shall I do first?”

“R-right!” Bernadetta nodded, then as she meant to step towards him, she shrieked. “Wait! I need to juuust push them over here a little bit…” She turned around to the container with the other pots, placing it in a more sunlit corner. “Phew, there!”

“Even though they are all plants, do you need them to be in direct sunlight so much?” Hubert asked over her shoulder, ignoring her gasp of surprise. He waited for her to calm down enough to reply.

“Y-yes. Carnivorous plants need a lot of sunlight since they don’t get as many nutrients from the soil like other plants.”

“Amusing.”

“Also, the soil needs to be almost like hummus, but not too watery, either. It’s gotta be wet enough! They like being in bog-gy situations, heehee… hehehe…heh. Get it? Bug, buggy, bog, boggy… I’ll stop talking now.”

“Don’t. I did ask for this.” Hubert urged, following after Bernadetta who led the way outside.

“Um, okay. I usually let Vinny stay here behind the greenhouse when she needs more sunlight,” she pointed to a corner where the sunlight reflected from the glass and illuminated a round area. “It’s good and hidden, but it’s not in the shadow, so she can soak up as much light as she can!”

Hubert went over to the area to examine it. The ground had slight, round marks all over the place, as if Bernadetta had been doing this for a long time. It was clear that the spot was well-used and that she took great care in her craft, despite what her own self-deprecation would say.

“Is this the only such place? I wouldn’t be a good captor if I just placed my mark here and left, would I?” He smirked, to which Bernadetta gasped, losing the color of her face.

“I’m- um, I… okay, Bernie, be strong for Venny… For Venny!” She yelped, slapping her face with both hands.

Hubert blinked in surprise at the loud clap, almost compelled to ask if she was alright. Almost.

Smoke seemed to flow out of Bernadetta’s red, swollen cheeks due to the force of the impact, but she pumped herself up even further.

“CAN I GO TO YOUR ROOM FOR A MOMENT?!” She yelled atop of her lungs, telling not only Hubert but any student within a 100 feet radius of her intentions.

It was Hubert’s turn to take a step back in sheer surprise, but he soon composed himself with a fake cough. “I do not see how one thing relates to the other in the slightest.”

“Ah, um! It’s because you could always keep Venny in your room if you wanted, but I wanted to check the amount of sunlight your window gets to make sure, or if you wanted I could show you my room… for a teensy weensy moment… and how I keep my plants there and stuff! It’s important! Of utmost importance! Venny’s life depends on it!”

“For a teensy weensy moment, you say?” He stifled a laugh. “Very well, show me your abode and I shall bring you to mine. You can rearrange the furniture around the window if you so desire, as well.”

“R-really?!”

“Of course. Just do not touch anything else,” he said with an icy tone, making the girl jump up in surprise and take a few steps back.

“N-n-n-not gonna happen! I won’t touch anything! Anything at all! If anything, I could just take Venny out and away from your life and your sight entirely!” She saluted for some reason.

Once again Hubert chuckled, even more amused now that he realized bullying— well, teasing, more like — Bernadetta could be this fulfilling.

“What kind of poor captor do you take myself as, Bernadetta? No backhanded games, either. Lead the way and teach me how to care for my captive.” He urged, taking a step towards her.

Frightened but also worried about the drooping Venny, Bernie nodded and walked at hurried, tiny steps towards her room. She kept only a few specimens with her, seeing as her room got much less sunlight than the greenhouse.

“This is Kennard. Kenny for close friends,” she pointed to a red, Hydnora plant with teeth-like petals mixed between a large pot with other plants. “He likes being around other plants ‘cause he gets the nutrients from them. Isn’t he just a darling? He can’t live alone!”

It exuded a terrible, terrible stench of death.

Hubert frowned at the smell. “Charming.”

“I can’t keep him in the greenhouse for too long or other people will dispose of him thinking he’s a dead plant or something. Just because he’s pollinating doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy, really! It’s not his fault it smells like that,” she pouted, not even taking a glance at Hubert’s side. ‘Kenny’ was really all she could see.

As she spoke, Hubert looked again at the plant. It moved as if feeling his gaze, making the man’s frown deepen.

The flower opened its jaws as if it could speak, but only motioned the movement of speech, obviously.

Yes, obviously. There was no way a plant would talk.

There was also no way a plant was mimicking speech. Why would it? How could it, anyhow? It was a plant.

Hubert glanced at Venette in his hand, noticing it bend slightly towards Kennard. Looking between the two, Hubert felt even more intrigued.

It looked as if they were having a conversation. A plant-versation, Bernadetta would say and then excuse herself for the terrible pun.

Some instinctive disgust or fear encroached Hubert’s chest.

“Enough,” he interrupted whatever rambling Bernadetta had been on about Kenny’s wonderfulness.”I will take you to my room, so bring anything I will need to care for the plant on your way out,” he excused himself, cutting the alleged plant-versation in the middle.

“A-aah, wait for mee!” Bernadetta scrambled to get the few gardening tools she had lying around. “Sorry about that, Kenny! You hadn’t seen Venny in so long… You must’ve had a lot to talk about, right?” She patted the flower on the ‘head’, smiling brightly.

The plant nodded, or at least it looked like it did under Bernie’s slight touch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring Venny back, no matter what! You’ll see your friend again!” She pumped herself up, then left the room, leaving Kenny and its pot-mates alone.

Or… were they?

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #bernadetta fire emblem #hubert fire emblem #my writings #yuki's commissions

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