#[ me after looking up what serrated means: OH. ]

[floofyfungi]

ok i had this idea pop into my head but what if when the autobots did find Alexis but it was in the middle of starscream grooming her or something? Like startscream is either trying to get her to settle down or ready for bed and is being all so gentle with this tiny human, would kinda freak the autobots out a little lol.

That would be hilarious! I've written out a little scene of this possible scenario. Hope you enjoy!

The Autobots have finally located Starscream's base. It was in Vos, after all this time. They send in Mirage, because of his outlier ability he's one of the few dragons who might make it out alive.

His footsteps are soft as he scopes out Starscream's fortress. It's been here for a while. Centuries at least, likely built during one of Starscream's earlier banishments

Mirage is not looking for anything in particular, just checking the defences and seeing if there are any weaknesses he can exploit. The Autobots will have to launch a raid on this place eventually. Leaving a guy like Starscream to his own devices was a receipe for disaster.

Mirage sneaks past hordes of dangerous seekers, all while keeping in contact with Autobot HQ through his coms. Managing to stay alive only becausd he was invisible. The seeker guards were relaxed. They didn't suspect anything this deep in the toxic lands of Cybertron. Mirage felt a point of pride as he walked right past Thrust and Ramjet, he was the only one who could do this.

Eventually the small drake made his way deeper into the mountain fortress. If the Autobots were ever going to launch a successful assault, they need to know the full layout.

And then a human ran around the corner.

Mirage nearly glitches right then and there. He shimmered for a moment before returning invisible. The human stopped and stared with sharp little green eyes.

It was so small. All humans were. But the looming decepticon architecture made her seem even more so.

Did she see him? What was a human even doing in this base? In the middle of Cybertron in a decepticon fortress. Was it a prisoner? But then why was it just walking around and-

Mirage's thoughts are interrupted when the ground shook ever so slightly beneath his claws.

The human smirked.

And pit-spawned Starscream himself prowled around the corner. Mirage had forgotten how big the seeker was. Deadly blue claws clacked against the marble floor, supporting giant red wings that could swallow an organic army in their shadow.

Mirage flattened himself against the wall as the white dragon glared down at the human.

"Alexis! This resistance is futile!"

"I'm not tired!"

"I don't care. Come here!" He pointed to the ground with his claw.

"Make me." Mirage's optics nearly popped out of his head.

Starscream smiled. The human bolted. But Starscream was on Alexis in seconds and pinned her to the ground. Mirage cursed himself for not acting sooner. He had been so stunned. But now that poor human was a goner and...

She was laughing?

There was no crunch of bone or blood staining Starscream's servo. The human was clutching the claws and laughing as they gently curled around her and lifted her up to Starscream's face. She hugged those serrated edges like they were pillows, and rested her cheek against the tip of one claw, "but I'm not tired."

"You've to be up early tomorrow, you'll thank me later," Starscream's voice was strange, the rasp low and soft. Not the screeching enraged pitch Mirage was used to. One claw gently stroked Alexis's back. Mirage had seen those claws cave in Autobot helms.

"I don't want to."

"Too bad."

"You're being mean," the human grumbled as Starscream began walking away. In a stunned daze Mirage followed. He had to see this.

"Oh? What took you so long?"

"What if I just stay up all night?"

"That would not be wise."

Alexis yawned, "I'm totally going to do it. Unless... you make sleep worth my while."

Starscream stopped and started down at her. She smiled.

"What do you want you little vermin?" Mirage didn't know Starscream could sound fond.

"We've run out of strawberries. If tomorrow there was some, I could perhaps be persuaded to fall asleep."

"You made me chase you halfway across this fortress for fruit!?"

"It's not my fault you're slow."

Starscream tossed her in the air. Mirage held his breath. Starscream caught her between his teeth and kept walking.

"So is that a yes?"

"I'll think about it."

"So yes?"

"Perhaps."

The human cheered, nestled between giant teeth that could rip her to shreds in an instant. Starscream vanished around the corner. Gradually the tremors faded and Mirage was alone.

He raised his shaking claws to his helm and activated his comms, "Jazz, we've got a problem."

[worstamongequals]

Deadly

— “This crazy bitch is trying to kill me.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.”

Eddie Brock x Vigilante!Reader

You and Eddie had been working together for months now: you, Karma, in your hooded disguise, and Eddie masked by Venom. The Lethal Protectors started working with you after coming across you in an alley one night, where they watched you single-handedly take down a would-be rapist, and Venom offered to eat his head. You and Eddie have never revealed your identities to each other, but tonight, you’re forced to when Eddie takes you back to his apartment for a patch-up after a really bad fight.

word count: 3k

Holy fucking shit. Eddie watched in awe as you handed that guy’s ass to him. You, whoever you are, wearing a protective suit with a mask covering your face, the visor glinting in what little light illuminated the alley. We should help her, Eddie. No, buddy, I think she’s got it.

The man grunted when your knuckles connected with his cheekbone once more and he dropped to his knees. “Come on, man, if you’d have just said she was your girl, I’d have left her alone.” You buried your boot in his stomach and he curled into a ball on the cold pavement.

“That’s your problem, pal.” Your voice was all ice and poison. It occurred to Eddie that the man you were currently kicking the shit out of hadn’t realized you weren’t a man. “You should’ve left her alone because she said leave me alone, not because you think she belongs to some other guy.” Eddie heard a loud crack and suddenly the man yelped in pain. You broke a rib that time.

“Please,” He begged. “Don’t do this.”

“Oh?” You paused, drawing a knife from some unseen hiding place and pressing the blade against his throat. “Are those words suddenly supposed to mean something now? Coming from you?”

The man fell silent, save for a wheezing sound whenever he breathed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, like a fish gasping for air.

“You didn’t seem to think those words held any weight earlier.” The blade of your knife pressed deeper into his skin, releasing a thin trickle of blood. “Speak.”

“I-I just,” He stammered. “Please.”

“Hmm,” You hummed liltingly, as if considering his plea. “I’m gonna go with no.”

You put your foot to his shoulder and pushed him down, until he was flat on his back, lying in a puddle of what Eddie could only hope was the man’s own piss. You pulled a gun from the holster at your back, cocking it and aiming it right between his eyes.

“Good fucking night, you piece of shit.”

“Wait!” Venom leapt down from the roof he had been perched on. You stepped back, adjusting your stance so your gun was now pointed at Venom and your knife was back against the man’s throat. “Allow me to make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.” You tried to steady your voice, but it was difficult to sound cool and collected when you were confronted by this 7 foot, oily black alien thing, with rows of teeth and milky white eyes. But Eddie silently commended you for standing your ground.

“I will eat his head. For you.”

“You-” You stuttered, shocked, but also… pleased? “Who are you?”

“We are Venom, the Lethal Protector.”

“Uh… cool.” You lowered your gun. “I’m Karma.”

“You’re a bitch.” The man on the ground spat.

“Oh yeah? You think so?” You gently dragged your knife down his neck and chest, coming to a stop at the waistline of his pants. Ignoring his panicked shouts, you cut through the jeans and boxers, digging the serrated blade into the base of his weapon of choice. “Right, well karma is a fucking bitch, isn’t she?” You sawed halfway through before you stepped back, almost as if admiring your work. He won’t be using that anymore. Then you looked at Venom and gestured towards the man on the floor. “Be my guest.”

Venom devoured him. And this time, Eddie was glad he did it. Venom wanted to eat brains, and Eddie didn’t want innocent people to die. This was their perfect target group. Someone who deserved to be violently removed from this spinning rock.

“My partner would like to speak to you.”

Eddie could picture your eyes widening underneath your mask. “Who?”

Venom’s face peeled back, revealing a smaller, human face underneath. You tried to get a clear look, to figure out if this was someone you knew or someone you should be able to recognize later, but Venom distorted Eddie’s face just enough so that although you could tell you were now speaking to a human man, you couldn’t make out any identifying characteristics. “Hi,” He said, somewhat awkwardly. You cocked your head to the side - his voice didn’t match his hulking figure at all. “We are Venom. And I’d like to make a deal with you.”

- - -

You grunted when your back slammed into the brick wall behind you. Sucking in a ragged breath, you forced yourself back up onto your feet. Eddie admired that about you. You sniffed, dragging the back of your hand across your nose, only taking a second to acknowledge the blood that came away on your hand. “You’re going to regret that. And everything else you did tonight.”

“You crazy bitch,” The guy’s fists were up, but he looked tired. Not much of a fighter. “I didn’t do anything wrong. She wanted it. You’re just a fucking cockblock-”

“More like chopping block.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Come find out.” Two knives slid out of their sheaths and into your hands with a shink sound. The man pulled out his baton, gripping it tightly in his sweaty hand. You’d never liked batons - they were fucking brutal. Anyone whose weapon of choice was a baton made your stomach churn; it took a special kind of sick to be comfortable beating someone to death. “She wanted it.” He repeated, mostly to himself.

“None of them did.” You tightened your grip on your knives. “The only thing you protect and serve is yourself.” You launched yourself forward, dodging his first swing of the baton and landing a deep cut on his forearm. He hissed in pain and if looks could kill, you’d be dead. He reached for the radio clipped to his belt. “This is Foxtrot-22, I am in need of assistance-”

You shoved your hand underneath his chin, against the top of his throat, forcing him to step backward if he wanted to continue breathing. “I don’t think so.” You plucked the radio out of his hands, resting your thumb above the talk button. “Repeat after me.”

“You cun- AGH-” You pushed your hand harder into his throat.

“This is Foxtrot-22.” You nodded, signaling him to speak. You clicked the radio on.

“This is Foxtrot-22.”

“And I need to be held accountable for my crimes.”

“I need-” He paused. “Help, Code 8, at my last location-” He knocked you off balance, and you tripped over his discarded baton. You let out an angry, inhuman sound when your palms slammed into the compacted gravel. You flipped over almost immediately, already reaching back to grab your gun when a heavy boot connected with your face. “Fuck!” You fired off a single shot but missed when the man landed a solid kick to your ribs. You dropped the gun, arms immediately moving to cover your abdomen to protect yourself from his unforgiving blows. You heard the gun skittering across the pavement and were suddenly acutely aware of the ever-shrinking number of weapons you had left at your disposal. You pulled a small blade from a hidden holster at your belt and sliced it across the man’s Achilles' tendon, and he let out an animalistic howl of pain. Blinded by white-hot rage, he brought his baton down on you over and over again. You tried your best to gain back your control over the situation, but he got the drop on you. Black spots dotted your vision. That was when Venom came sliding down the rooftop.

“Oh shit.” This stopped the man in his tracks.

“What seems to be the problem here?” The question might’ve sounded neutral enough, but Venom was circling the man like a shark after its prey, eyeing him as if he couldn’t decide which part to eat first.

The man gulped, seemingly aware of his hopeless situation. That didn’t stop him from trying to talk his way out of it. “This crazy bitch is trying to kill me.”

“Hmm, I wonder why.” Venom smiled big. He ran his tongue across the front of his teeth before biting the man’s head clean off at the shoulders. “I never liked the taste of pig.” Venom turned, partially revealing Eddie’s face to you. “You okay?”

You coughed, clutching at your ribs in pain before spitting out blood. Should ribs move this way? Gingerly reaching your fingers under your mask, you touched your face, and you could feel the print left by the man’s heavy work boots. Nose is definitely not supposed to bend that way. The world grew fuzzy and dark. “No.” You mumbled, before fading away.

Venom immediately retreated back into Eddie. Eddie paled, staring at your limp figure that was now slumped back against the squad car of Venom’s most recent snack. He shook his head, forcing himself back into the moment.

Eddie rushed forward, gently placing his hands against your rib cage. Two, maybe three, broken? Carefully, he picked you up and carried you out of the alley.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Eddie muttered.

I can heal her, Eddie.

I need to get her somewhere safe.

And Venom took over again, holding you close to his chest, bounding from rooftop to rooftop until he reached Eddie’s apartment. He slid down the side of the building and landed on the sidewalk before melting away until Eddie was all that was left.

Eddie carried you up the stairs, adjusting his grip on you every few steps. He was afraid to drop you or bump your ribs the wrong way. He had to fight the urge to stop and check your breathing every two minutes. When he finally got you inside, he laid you down gently on his couch and checked your pulse.

Allow me.

Your eyebrows scrunched up when Venom vanished into your skin. Something cold wrapped itself around Eddie’s heart and squeezed as he watched Venom mend your broken bones.

- - -

When you woke up, you were warm. Wrapped in a blanket that smelled like a laundry detergent you’d never used. You opened your eyes slowly, afraid of the pain you knew you’d be in and the bruises that most definitely covered your body.

“Hey, good morning,”

Instantaneously forgetting to move slowly, your eyes flew open and you shot up into a seated position. “Venom?”

“Uhh…” He hesitated. “You can just call me Eddie.”

“I don’t remember any- Where-”

“You’re in my apartment, you were hurt really bad. I carried you here,” You turned to face Eddie, surprised to see him on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. “Venom healed you.”

Your hands flew to your face when you realized that Eddie was doing nothing to obscure his face from your view. “Oh no, no, don't worry,” Eddie reached out his hands in a calming gesture. You relaxed when your fingertips met the material that still covered your face. “I left your mask on. Never saw your face. Venom just attached to you for long enough to fix your broken bones.”

“Thanks,” You murmured. You looked around at his apartment. “Nice place.” Then you looked out the window. The moon was shining. “How long was I out?”

“It’s just been a couple hours.” He frowned down at his phone. “It’s 3 AM right now.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say next. You’d never interacted with Venom outside of kicking the shit out of assholes, and this was your first time meeting just Eddie.

Say something to her.

No, what the fuck? Let her go back to sleep.

“My face hurts.” And suddenly your eyes welled with tears. You squeezed them shut, glad to be wearing a mask.

“I can get you some Tylenol.”

Your lower lip quivered. “I can’t swallow pills.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Eddie smiled at you. “I have these bad boys.” He set a small packet of dissolving Tylenol powder on your knee.

A laugh/sob combo clawed its way out of your throat when you picked up the packet. “Thanks.” You tore it open and flipped up the bottom part of your mask so that the lower half of your face was uncovered.

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

“N-nothing.”

“What.”

“Your face…” Eddie trailed off. “Are you… Wait here. Don’t move.” He practically leapt to his feet, rushing off to another room before returning with baby wipes and a first aid kit. “Do you want me to clean you up?”

You froze. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone who I am?”

“You know me now.” His smile was lopsided. Cute. “If I expose you, you expose me. Even trade.”

You silently pulled the mask off your face.

Eddie failed to hide his grimace. “That bad, huh?” You joked. He smiled apologetically, not bothering to stumble over his words in a feeble attempt to convince you that he never made a face. You appreciate that about him.

You made space for Eddie on the couch, sitting with your legs crossed. Eddie sat facing you, one leg pulled up between you and the other hanging over the edge.

“I mean, you took a boot to the face. It’s to be expected.” Eddie gently wiped your face, careful to not rub too hard.

Five minutes later, he had a small pile of red and pink-tinged wipes next to him and was diligently working at bandaging the scrapes on your face. You found yourself staring into his eyes until he met your gaze, at which point you would quickly look everywhere but him.

“You’re really pretty.” The words fell from his lips and he looked almost surprised at himself for letting them escape. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Eddie had refused to bring you a mirror, but you could feel the swelling around your left eye and the many band-aids that Eddie had applied with care. “That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t a joke.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few more moments, until he moved the first aid kit aside and leaned back, satisfied with the care he’d given you. You fumbled with your mask, running your fingers over the stained material. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Isn’t this what friends are for?”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Friends?”

“Yeah, I mean… we’ve been a team for a few months now, I’d say we’re friends.” Eddie didn’t meet your gaze. He couldn’t. Eddie had never wanted to speculate on what you looked like underneath the mask, or who you were during the day. Nothing he imagined could compare with what little he already knew about the kind of person you were, so why bother making something up? He’d also never asked. You wore a mask for a reason, Eddie reminded himself. He wanted to respect your privacy. But maybe… Maybe part of him was worried about what he’d find out about you if he ever bothered to do any digging. If he got to know who you were, he might find out something he didn’t want to know. Maybe you had a partner of the non-ass-kicking variety. A life partner. 2.5 kids and a dog in a yard with a white picket fence. I could eat the dog. Shut up. All of the above. Any of the above. It’d crush him. So yeah, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you for too long, because if he did, all he could think about was the next time he’d get to see you without the mask. Eddie already knew you were a fantastic person and a fucking badass. But to top it all off… You were beautiful. He never gave himself permission to wonder what you looked like, but seeing you here, now, you were better than anything he could’ve imagined anyway. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, everything was just so you. It was too much. You needed to leave. Or maybe he should leave. You were the one who had broken ribs 5 hours ago-

“Eddie.” Your voice pulled him out of his spiral and he looked at you. And then you told him your name. Your real name.

He repeated it after you. “Sounds familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”

“No, you’d remember if you did.” You smiled at him in a way that made his heart skip a beat.

Eddie laughed nervously, and the silence settled around you once more. You thrummed your fingers against your thigh, an anxious habit of yours that Eddie had clocked during your first few nights working together. “Can I-” Eddie cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Can I… can we,” Was it hot in here? Eddie tugged at his shirt collar. “Can we maybe see each other again, without the masks sometime?”

“Maybe in a restaurant?” Venom piped up.

“Dude! Can you shut up?”

I’m helping you, Eddie!

You smiled wide, accidentally tearing open a few of the cuts that had begun to clot. “Ow. Oh, fuck.” You and Eddie reached for a nearby roll of gauze at the same time and your fingers brushed together. “Sorry.” The two of you whispered. Eddie took the gauze and pressed it against your broken skin, holding it there. You looked up at him, but he was staring intently at your injuries. “Yeah. That’d be fun.”

This drew his attention back to you. “Really? So… you don’t have 3 adorable kids and a dog in a suburb somewhere?”

“No,” You smiled. “I’m more of a cat person.”

“Ah.” He smiled back. “Me too.”

[mouthsfeel]

i want the world overturned like a bowl of eggs, smashed at my feet.

ÁNGEL VIEIRO. TWENTY-NINE. HE & HIM. BARTENDER & LEAST FAVORITE SHIFT PARTNER, INFIERNO.

tldr; man leaves a trail of chewed up plastic straws and people in his wake.

 i   heard   from   a   friend   of   a   friend   that   they’re   charismatic, approachable   &   unpredictable, secretive.   it’s   no   wonder   they’ve   made   it   this   far   in   the   city,   they’ve   been   here   for   twenty years.   now   that   i   get   a   good   look   at   them   they   kinda’   remind   me   of   reptilia   by   the strokes.

01. he wasn't always handsome. first he was cute, then pretty, then, god — beautiful. there are worse things to be than a beautiful man, even one who knows it. but what's less survivable than a man who wields it? angel lives with his knife turned outward, grip practiced; thumb on the spine, forefinger steadying on the blade's flat. it's easy from this position to render skin clean from flesh. what's worse than his face is the shapes he makes with it: angel's charming. he smiles easily, readily, open-toothed. he looks you in the eye when you talk, chin nestled over a closed fist. he keeps the hook-gaze while he works, while he tastes the drink he's going to push your way in just a second. he hangs on the serrated edge of your pleasure, cracks open when your mouth shapes around that very first — oh, it's good!

02. it's a sort of sink drain conundrum: he was always going to end up this way, sluicing down the sides, excess scraped and squeezed out for good measure. all to say — yes, angel has always been a little bit like this, charming enough to glide through the u-bend and just self-possessed enough to try in the first place. it's the right side of the wrong ingredients and just enough experimenting to find the perfect sweet-bitter edge. broken curfews and sticky-fingered smiles. dimples. change counted carefully at the bodega register, talking nonsense all the way through. a new yorker's sense for the good trouble and the bad. tipping 30%, always, even when it means no new groceries.

03. the worst part, honestly, the real rotten egg yolk in a perfect frothy white, is that most of the time it's all genuine. it's not even set dressing, because at the end of the day anyone standing behind a bar or over a hot stove knows the knife is just a tool. the smile is real. the love, sometimes, is real too. angel gets it from his father. he used to sit in his lap in the early, early hours, sky streaked hazy and his father still stinking of kitchen and beer, and trace those deep grooves of life on his face. his father would trace them back on angel before he stumbled off to bed. cesar's work gave him crow's feet and breakfast sandwiches. angel's just gave him fucking tinnitus.

04. infierno — it's a dream, man, really. no seriously, yeah, i couldn't imagine a better — yeah, yeah, yeah. it's something like the truth, when angel's squatting on the alley curb smoking his cigarette so fast it's making his head spin because he really can't be taking another break, but fuck if he's doing another ten espresso martinis without one, and a likes-to-think-he's-one-of-the-guys patron stumbles over and asks to bum an authentically back pocket crushed smoke. and it's not untrue, but it's also a job, with good days and worse ones. is it a dream job? fuck no. but yeah, sure man, he'll party after. he gets off at 4.

WANTED PLOTS

at infierno

french 75. a flirtationship for the ages. there's a low hum of chemistry beneath every interaction, and while angel isn't one to shy away from, ahem, fucking his coworkers, this one is keeping him on his toes more than he's used to.

negroni. truly the staff ride or die. their implicit trust in each other was forged through infierno's growing pains and now they're practically telepathic in each other's orbit. despite the intimacy, it's somehow little more than controlled chaos when they're both on the ticket.

sea salt martini. these are professionals, paramount in their roles. they'll play nice for the guests and no one will see the knives out under the bar. everything between them is an opportunity for competition and sabotage.

manhattan. got off on the wrong foot, and honestly, angel isn't that bothered to try and right it. it was probably his fault in the first place, but now they've gone and pissed him off so he's not going to do anything about it but dig his heels in some more.

old fashioned. someone who dislikes everything about angel and with perfectly good reason. he relies too much on his charm; he's underhanded and dismissive of workplace ethics and often decorum. but they're also the only one he'll listen to when they finally tug the leash.

at echelon

whiskey sour. fellow bartenders, for better or worse. they push each other, they antagonize each other, they rib and they joke and they share trade secrets so long as you don't tell the gm. seriously, keep your mouth fucking closed. okay but who's your supplier?

spicy margarita. potential poacher? poachee? it's all a little bit of a joke, like everything to angel before he's forced to take things seriously, and it's hard to tell where the line's drawn. is he really being asked to leave infierno? would he, for them?

dark 'n' stormy. worst person alive, mutual. they cannot stand even the sight of each other and won't tell anyone else why except to get them the fuck away. whether unexpected or not, the shared close quarters of echelon and infierno is going to be unpleasant for everyone involved.

lemon drop. hooked elbows on the way to the only bar still open after theirs. beyond anything else, they have each other to split tabs and 6-packs and cigarettes, whatever the night (or, usually, morning) calls for. angel's slept on their floor more times than he'd like to admit.

with guests

sazerac. a reviewer that angel's royally fucked it for before. he'll play as cool as usual, all easy smiles and warm charisma, elbows on the oiled bartop. but let's be real: he's sweating fucking bullets every time they show face.

vodka soda. the regulars of all shapes and sizes. there are ones angel doesn't care for but will pretend otherwise, ones he'll bend over backwards for, and definitely definitely one's he's gone home with when his electric bill wasn't paid.

image credit: 1, 2

[mintiicinnamonii]

an easier to read format of my latest post

(the first half, sperated from the second half by a line that you’ll see as you read is written by @mads-does-stuff, the original creator of the concept of Elysium and Inferno and the cherri bomb to my angel dust. show her some love)

—

Castiel paced around the small courtyard. His hand trembled as it moved to graze the hilt of the hidden dagger that was covered by his ivory cloak. The prince took a deep, shaking breath. “This is your duty, Castiel…” he murmured to himself. “It’s… for the greater good.” Castiel sighed, staring blankly at the glossy marble floors before he snapped back to reality, hearing the opening of a portal. “Hey!” an upbeat voice called from behind Castiel. The Prince of Angels turned his head, and his golden eyes widened. Azazel took Castiel’s breath away— quite literally. Castiel was so shocked that he couldn’t breathe. Inferno’s Crown Prince looked nearly the opposite of Castiel. He had rich, deep purple skin that was washed with ebony freckles. Azazel had ink-black sclera and silver irises. His hair was dark and messy, thrown into a short ponytail. Two curling horns stuck out of his unkempt hair. He had pointed, pierced ears and a pair of glasses with a crack in the right lens. He wore a cheap-looking suit with a poorly tied black knot with red stripes across it. Just the sight of Azazel would be enough to put any Angel into a coma. But something about his laughter-filled eyes, serrated teeth in a mischevious grin, and the array of freckles across his face was… quite enamoring to Castiel. “Hello?” Azazel says, leaning forward. He grinned, displaying his sharp serrated teeth. “You alright, great almighty Angel Prince?” he says jokingly. “You look startled. Have I scared you with my devilishly good looks?” he says sarcastically, laughing. “I—“ Castiel’s golden gaze shifted to the ground. He furrowed his brow. “No, you simply surprised me. That is all.” he says quietly, his hand slowly drifting to where the bejeweled dagger was hidden, under his cloak.

“If you say so,” Azazel held Castiel’s hand flirtily: “Your Majesty..” The second Azazel smirked up at him, Castiel felt like he was going to explode. “So uhm.. Shall we get going?” Castiel stuttered, messing up his hair nervously as he pulled his hand away. “Nah, we gotta wait for one more..” Azazel smirks, crossing his arms and motioning to the portal. Azazel snarled. “What do you mean one more..-“ Castiel looked over at the demonic portal and immediately shifted back out of intimidation.

—

Castiel only knew what it was like to see fire because his mother had described it to him after a meeting in Inferno. His mother had talked quite poorly about that meeting, and it only made him even more scared of the realm. The demon had eyes the color of blood, robin hood green hair tied into a ponytail. Their figure was slender, skin scaly and pale. Dozens of rows of sharp teeth were visible, and they had a serpent tail.

“AYY!!” Azazel immediately fist bumped the demon. “About time, what took ya so long?” The demon grimaced. “Had some things to deal with, so to speak.” They said, cracking their kunckles. Castiel gulped; demons really were vile. The snake chuckled at his disturbed face, pulling out a box. Castiel was confused, til she pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. “Little help?” Az nodded, touching the tip before she put it to her mouth. Oh. A cigarette. “Uhm..” Castiel stuttered, wings fluttering.

“Oh. Yeah. , this is Angel Boy. Angel Boy, this is my assistant, the best manager and friend I could ask for-“ “Ssserpentine.” Azazel gasped. “You cut me off!” Amos let out a huff of cigar smoke, which blew right into Castiel’s face and grinned. “You took too long.” Azazel scoffed, playfully punching her in the ribs. “This is why we’re best friends, girl. How about get this guy to Inferno yeah? Maybe get a latte. Trust me you’ll LOVE the lattes here..” Azazel stepped through the portal, chattering on and on about the demon cuisine as his tail swished. As Castiel stepped through the portal, he could have sworn 2 serpent-like red eyes were staring at him. Specifically, under his ivory colored cloak.

(link to the fic inspired by this: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55264348)

[risingshards]

Rambles about WIP titles

So I really like writing titles and coming up with titles for my work; one of the things I love about doing a web novel is coming up with episode titles that sound all TV show-y. I've been working on D6R a lot this week and it has me thinking about what I wanna call it.

Originally, it was called Serrate, which was the name of the planet at the time (IDK why I thought it fit the story to just call it the place it was at) . At one point it was Serrate I: The Hope of Tomorrow, with the subtitle I think having a dual meaning with the royal chosen ones getting dubbed the hope of tomorrow but with our exile main characters actually being that hope.

Then it was called...Rising Shards! And it kept that title until the Rising Shards I'm currently writing formed with a lot of character names carrying forward effectively for new characters, and the plot and style and everything changed and went into its own deal. So the old drafts became a story that I wanted to get back to but I had a feeling that grew more and more that they were generally events that happened before Rising Shards with their own cast.

I was working on a project adjacent to D6R that will still be part of it that I called Versus that I wrote a TON of subtitle ideas for, but I think one of the issues I had with that project was trying to do a story and mush the D6R writing in all at once. Right now my hope is that I can use the D6R drafts already written to combine into one thing, then get to the big Versus story beats I've been daydreaming about forever after within that story.

So this week I've been thinking about what I want to call D6R. One of the Versus subtitles was The Exile Rebirth, which I liked a lot but I used it when I put some of that writing on Kindle Vella, and that went bad so like. I kind of want a clean break from that title cuz it has some bad vibes.

I'm a bit tempted to do one of those ____ of ____ & ____ titles, but that may be too cynical to try for that, like "Oh this is what publishers want from their fantasy titles better do that!" But if I do come up with a title like that I like I won't shy away from it. I work at a library so I've been looking at the new YA titles this week like "Oh so they got the ____ of ____ & ____ ones, the two words merged ones, the ones that don't have a category like that, hmmm..."

I'm really hoping I get that title that just immediately feels right, like it did when I first thought of the character names a long while ago, slacking off in the back room of my computer shop job in my senior year of high school. So when I do figure out the title y'all will be the first to know!

—Chiral

[crossoverquest]

Serrator: Well, look what the cat dragged in and barfed all over. I thought you died, Black Fang. You think you could just barge in here and defeat me all by yourself?

Black Fang: Heh heh heh... Not quite.

*Skarf shows up as a spirit.*

Skarf: Hey! That's my bread and butter you're [EFF!]ing with!

Serrator: I always knew you wanted me to be inside you, Skarf.

Tsumugi, observing the confronation: What do you suppose he means by that?

Megumi, also observing the confrontation: I couldn't hazard a guess.

Serrator: Trust me, Fang. You really don't want to get involved.

Black Fang: Oh, but I think I do. You see, I know who you really work for. Does the name Skull Man ring a bell?

Serrator: How could you possibly know—

Black Fang: Let's just say I put two and two together. After all, you are the single most evil entity in the Netherworld, which means you're the one trying to get the whole of Vinyl City, Silicon City, and the Happiness Charge Cures killed.

Serrator: Hehehehahaha! And you think you can stop me? (Takes out his Shaku) Just you [bleep]ing try!

Black Fang: Three words, Serrator…

(Black Fang summons a group of Bee Saiarks.)

Black Fang: Bring. It. ON.

Serrator: Very well. If it's a duel you want, it's a duel you'll get!

Black Fang: Right you are, and the winner decides if the loser dies or not.

Serrator: Then face me, Black Fang, and watch the Earth collapse around you! (Cackles evily)

[mcmoryfound]

@biskael inquired: Slashes your muse’s Achilles’ tendon with a big , serrated hunting knife ( at any of the tres bestias . that’s right ! you’re not going anywhere . ) [ violent actions ]

Right action should be struggle, try to kick out the blade or just anything to get away from the Quincy. Yet, the blade was already right against the back of her leg. Any wrong move meant worse damage. Despite the initial denial, Emilio was in the losing spot & had to accept this time what's coming.

However she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction to hear arrancar in pain. Punch smashed into ground few times instead of cries or screams as knife went through her heel. It was hard, especially when it felt like he was sawing right in. Supposedly smooth & sharp, yet tearing apart each layer in worst way possible. Still, no fucking sound Emilio, it's already bad enough that he feels allowed to do as he wish. Almost thankful that it stopped at tendon & didn't went all the way through the bone. However not enough to switch up attitude, even if it was weakened already.

" Y-you bitch.. " Only once it was over she spoke up, as otherwise unwanted tears would show up. She curled up for a brief moment, pulling damaged leg to herself. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! But here was no time for it. Last thing Apacci would admit is that he got to her, even if it was somewhat apparent already. Hands gripped at anything that could help her get up. It probably looked more comical than it should & she was almost purely hanging on her hands, but she did stand up in form of weakest fuck you. However, what now?

Every part of her body screamed to run, even if she couldn't even stand properly, not talking about taking a proper step. Only after getting somewhat used to pain, she looked up at Quilge. Glare ruined by pain mixing in. " Don't think it's enough... to stop me. "

[coralinnii]

Floyd Leech (merman!Floyd x bullied!Reader)

genre: horror, friendship(?)

note: off-screen bullying, allusion to violence and worse

summary: A nobody at school, your only solace was taking in the serenity of the ocean cave away from the big city. However, a dweller is more than happy to show you a part of his world.

series index

“You’re sad again, land shrimp. What is it this time?” 

“F-Floyd…”

You looked at the man in the waters. Except he wasn’t really just a man. You met Floyd when you ran from your classmates that started harassing you and you left school early to eat your lunch in peace. Sadly, you accidentally dropped your lunch into the waters as you maneuvered through the cave you found. However, it was how you met the man whose skin shimmer like the ocean. 

“Hey, that wasn’t half bad~” 

Since then, against your better judgment, you started hanging out in the cave during lunch with your “friend” while bringing something for him to try. Floyd was a creature driven by curiosity and luckily he was fascinated by you, a human, and the treats that you bring his way. 

“I like you, Shrimpy~” he grinned, showing off his white serrated teeth which reminds you to tread lightly with him. 

Still, you preferred his company over anyone else in school as you became the target for some mean-spirited classmates. Floyd found you in tears as you cried out in confusion as to why your situation came to be like this. 

“Became you’re weak, Shrimpy” Floyd was bluntly honest with you. “If you were in my territory, you would be eaten alive” 

You let out a scared hiccup, shocked by the brutality of your “friend’s” world. This was nothing like the fairy tales and movies you were shown as a kid. You continued to weep, can people like you really survive anywhere when the world is this cruel? 

“Ah, stop crying~” Floyd spoke to you as he floated closer to wipe the tears from your eyes. “I won’t eat you, as long as you bring me something good to eat~” 

In your delusional state, you wanted to trust Floyd. You wanted to relish in his protection as he wiped your tears away with nails that looked sharp enough to slice through flesh. 

Perhaps it was this delusional state of trust that convinced you to run back to the cave as your classmates chased after you with sadistic glee, drinking in the pleasure of your fear of them. 

“Come back here, loser! We’re not done!” 

You yelped in fear as you ducked into the cold waters in the caves, hiding behind the shadows of the rocks hoping the dark would aid you. You kept your voice down as you heard your bullies scream angrily into the cave, demanding that you come out. 

You covered your ears, desperately blocking out the angry screams of your tormentors, blocking out their screams of shock, their voices as they scrambled inside the cave, the sounds of thrashing in the waters and harsh collisions against the sharp walls of the cave. You ignored everything. 

Until you felt a pair of wet hands covering your own. 

You yelped and turned to see the merman you’ve come to know. The merman who wrapped his long body around you, somewhat curiously and somewhat possessively. He looked at you with unreadable eyes before reaching out to your tear-stained cheeks. 

“Hey, I told you not to cry anymore,” he said with an annoyed frown. “How weak can you be to be scared of those ugly guppies?”

“Floyd…” 

Unhesitatingly, you wrapped your arms around the beast of a (sea)man to tightly embrace him as you continued to cry despite his warnings not to. But Floyd didn’t mind it for now, surprisingly enjoying the warmth of your body that is unlike those of his kind. He mirrored you, wrapping his arms around your waist and his extensive tail coiled slightly tighter. 

You were such a strange creature to him, so weak yet brave enough to approach and feed a predator like himself. Oh well, he liked that about you and he’s willing to put up with you if this continues to please him. Besides… 

You always bring him something good to eat~

[wolken-himmel]

In which Malleus Draconia is finally fed up with everyone being scared of him. Desperate, he asks his beloved treasure, (Y/n) (L/n), for help.

Now... how do you make a scary dragon fae less scary?

"My beloved treasure, why is everyone scared of me?"

"Hm?"

The two NRC students — Malleus and (Y/n), an unlikely pair of good friends — were peacefully laying next to each on the grassy ground of the courtyard, their eyes trained at the sky where thousands of stars competed to shine the brightest. You loved spending time with Malleus; your nightly sky-gazing sessions were your highlight of the day. Usually, you spent your meetings quiet, just enjoying each other's presence. But today, Malleus heart weighed heavy with self-hatred.

You propped yourself onto your elbows, shooting the male next to you a confused smile. "What do you mean, Malleus?" you asked, laughing softly. At that, the fae started smiling; your laughter never failed to brighten his days. One of your hands reaching out to lay it on top of his that idly lay on his stomach, worry filled your eyes once you saw the pain in his eyes. "I'm not scared of you."

He took a deep breath as he did his best to avoid your worried gaze. "But everyone else is..." he explained, feeling his heart tighten painfully. The only thing that kept him grounded to reality and all its beautiful wonders was the hand that so gently held his. "Why does everyone fear me? Am I that intimidating, (Y/n)?"

Pausing, you thought for a moment. "Well," you breathed out after biting your lower lip, eyes drifting back to the night sky. "You are quite intimidating due to your height and powers..." Your words caused a growing frown to appear on Malleus' lips. But once your gaze snapped back to meet his glowing eyes, there was a big smile on your face that made his heart flutter. "But worry not! I have an idea how we can make you less... intimidating—"

Malleus' eyes widened in surprise and adoration. "Y-You would do that for me?"

"Of course." You removed your hand from his — which made Malleus let out a disappointed sigh — in order to rise to your feet. "I need to go now! But I'll see you tomorrow at this exact spot, alright? And then, I'll explain what I have in mind." Sending him one last smile, you ran off into the distance.

He looked after the girl until she had become one of the shadows of the darkness. "My little treasure..."

Just like you had promised him, you were already sitting in your usual space when he arrived. He took a moment to admire the way the last sunrays coloured your face in a soft orange hue. Not able to help himself, a little smile appeared on his lips.

"Malleus!" you shouted once you spotted him, a giant smile on your lips. Beckoning him over, you patted the empty space next to you, urging him to take a seat.

"You're quite early today," he mused. Child-like curiosity filled his eyes once he noticed the dainty daisies strewn out all around you. "Oh, what are those flowers for?" Picking one up, he twirled it around in fascination and admired the way its petals seemed unharmed and a bright white.

"Well, I got Vil to put a spell on them so that they will never wilt or wither," you explained, a handful of the pristine flowers already in your hands. "I thought about making you a flower crown to wear, so that you seem less intimidating and more adorable!"

"Me? Adorable?" Malleus tilted his head to the side in amusement. "Adorable like you?"

"Charmer." You booped his nose which caught him off-guard. "Anyway, so after starting to work on the flower crown, I got an even better idea! How about just directly attaching the flowers to your horns? You'd look adorable~!"

He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling a little bit flustered out of a sudden. He raised his hand to run his fingers across the slightly serrated surface of his horns. A little sigh escaped his lips. "To my horns?"

You nodded eagerly, your excitement infectious. "But only if you're okay with that! I can imagine that touching a dragon fae's horns must be quite a personal thing." Your voice diminished in volume the more you went on; simultaneously, your cheeks grew redder. Lowering your eyes to your hands that were fiddling with the flowers, you waited for the male to answer.

Malleus thought for a minute until a smile appeared on his face. He reached his hand out to gently tilt your chin upward, so that your (E/c) eyes gazed into his. "I give you permission, my little treasure," he said, his voice calm even though he was inwardly screaming.

Your lips immediately curved into a smile, too, as you urged him to remain seated. "Thank you for trusting me, Malleus," you whispered as you stood up, gathering all the flowers that lay on the grass beneath you.

A little chuckle escaped Malleus' throat. "No, I thank you for trusting me."

Once you stood behind him with the flowers in hand, you mumbled, "Now, keep your gaze forward, please." He nodded, causing you to shakily reach out to rest one hand on his left horn. A little hitch escaped his throat when your soft fingers made contact with his horn; initial surprise turned into bliss as he lost himself in your touch. All his worries seemed to fade away in an instant, and more than ever, he felt loved and appreciated. Who knew such a simple touch could have such big effects on him?

Your nimble fingers wrapped one daisy after another around his horns, creating something akin to a long-running chain with each stem that was added. Eventually, the sun completely disappeared from the horizon, only leaving the little green fairy lights floating around you to illuminate your workspace. Malleus didn't utter a word throughout the whole experience, sometimes humming a soft lullaby that made you want to close your eyes and fall asleep — but you never let slumber overcome you.

Once you had attached the last daisy to the tip of his right horn, you rubbed your hands against one another in a gesture of accomplishment. "Done!"

Malleus forced one of his closed eyes open, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips. "Already?" he asked, pouting lightly. "That felt like a few minutes—"

"I've been at this for almost an hour now," you muttered, laughing once you saw the flustered expression on his face. Hearing you say that it had been such a long while already, you finally realised how heavy your eyelids were. A little yawn escaped your lips as you leant onto Malleus' back, your cheek pressed against his neck, and your arms thrown over his shoulder. "Good night... Mal..." were your last words before you were gone for real.

"Good night, my sleeping beauty." Chuckling softly, he turned around and picked you up into his arms — one arm under your knees and the other one supporting your back. Snuggling into his shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaped your lips. Just like that, Malleus carried you to your dorm room where he tugged you into your bed.

Once he had pressed an affectionate kiss to your forehead, he made his way back to his dorm.

"Malleus! You're home late!" was what he was greeted with when he entered the Diasomnia dorm. Lilia hung upside down, his face mere centimetres away from the dragon fae's. The pout on his face turned into a curious grin as his feet hit the ground. "Are those... flowers on your horns?" Lilia's eyes were wide in surprise once he realised that he indeed had been correct.

"Yes." The smile on Malleus' lips seemed unable to be wiped off. "My little treasure made it for me."

"M-My little Malleus got himself a little treasure," Lilia cried out as he wiped his watering eyes with the long sleeve of his jacket. "Sebek, Silver! Did you hear that!?"

Said two males peeked out from their respective rooms once they heard Lilia's frantic yelling.

"Old man, I'm trying to sleep..." Silver mumbled, almost whined, before he slammed the door to his room close again.

Sebek on the other hand seemed speechless as Malleus casually strolled past him towards his own room where a mirror hung. He couldn't wait to see what his little treasure had made.

"Malleus-sama—" Sebek called out as he ran towards the male he so respected. "You have something on your horns; let me remove the weed for you." He reached out towards the flowers, but Malleus instinctively stepped to the side with the speed of light.

"No, no. Don't remove them, Sebek," Malleus chimed, his spirits high. He took the time to readjust the little daisies he could feel drooping low. "I think I like this new look—"

Sebek shook his head, protesting, "Master, you can't run around looking like this!"

"My little treasure said it would make me look more..." Malleus stopped for a second, trying to remember which adjective you had used to describe him. "—adorable..." A dreamy smile appeared on his lips once he finished that sentence. Sebek was horrified, raging in anger as he jumped up and down.

"Adorable you look! Yes!" Lilia cheered, snickering softly. He put a hand on the knight's shoulder, trying to calm him down so he wouldn't wake up Silver — if that was even possible. "Why don't you make (Y/n) a flower crown, too? Then you could twin."

Sebek froze, and directed his angriest glare towards the smaller male. "Don't give Malleus-sama any ideas—"

"Amazing idea, Lilia!" Malleus' eyes lit up in happiness whilst he clapped his hands together in delight. "I shall make her a flower crown, as well... if only I knew how to make such a thing. Well, I can always ask Silver to help me— once he wakes up, of course."

Lilia let out a heart-warming sigh. "Ah, I smell young love blooming in the air! Or is it just the pollen—"

[number1villainstan]

episode 32, nanami in the thumbnail again. starting this episode right after the last one (breaking my one-episode-a-day pattern) because i NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT OH MY GOD

mmmmmm the previews are. uh. "you tend to trust who you fall in love with" fuuuuuuck

it's called 'romance of the dancing girls', are the dancing girls utena and anthy?

i feel like now that i'm in the final quarter all the episodes are gonna feel awful to watch. like all the episodes are just gonna slowly drag on me mental health until i end up sobbing in a corner somewhere at the unfairness of it all

oh shit nanami still has touga's cellphone

"so, did you sleep well" i can assure you nanami most certainly did not sleep well. god, being in her position--having just found out something utterly horrific about your rival and the chairman of your school--and having to just. stuff it all down. act like everything's normal. because the chairman, the guy who's perpetuating it, is right there. and because if you try to bring it up you'll just get shut down. fuuuuuuck.

jam made from rose hips from anthy, and then brandy and sugar. anthy's flower, and then brandy (an alcoholic, adult drink) and sugar (to add sweetness, to mask the bitterness of alcohol?). and then probably mashed up into a paste and left to sit. why do i feel like the jam is a metaphor for anthy and akio's relationship

akio trying to make nanami seem unstable to the one person in the room who doesn't know what's going on, and also the person in the room he's trying to groom into letting him rape them

wait wait wait wait wait. if the jam represents akio and anthy's relationship. and nanami has seen what their relationship actually is. and nanami rejects the jam. then fundamentally she is rejecting the abusive idea of a sibling relationship that anthy and akio have shown her. oh yeah, it's all coming together

nanami offering to trade...maybe to push miki into realizing the truth as well? (she's sitting by a cello, at the edge of the light from the window, and miki's sitting at the piano to the side of the light. the light being understanding what's going on?)

"a nice guy like you would be eaten alive" she reconsidered. huh. because she doesn't think miki would realize. and because she doesn't want miki near akio. ✨character development✨

"that was just an act" jesus fuck touga. that's gotta be a lie though they've been living together for too long

IT'S KEIKO????

nanami's falling back into old mindsets and patterns :(

the faucet going from stopped up to suddenly pouring. to reflect nanami's emotions/sadness? yeah mood. oh wait shit anthy accidentally broke the handle off?? nanami's about to be Fundamentally Changed

they both consider blood more important than experience. and i still Don't Like That.

when she threw the phone it didn't break. i was kinda hoping she'd get angry and smash it

that shot of the apple with forks sticking out of it is. i don't know what it means but it looks a lot like something i know is going to show up in the last few episodes.

does kanae visit them a lot?

"oh i'm [scary]? think nothing of it" while holding the serrated knife. girl you are Strange and Offputting (and tbh i am loving it)

although is it possible that nanami picked up on anthy trying to protect utena from akio in that scene?

chu chu going up and down like a balloon. not sure what that would mean.

"that pervert brother and sister" i'm pretty sure only one of them is to blame for the perversion and it's not the sister

"don't compare us to those two" oh so nanami's being angry about being a parallel huh? also poor, innocent, naive, fourteen-year-old-jock utena, who has no goddamn idea what's going on

wait so which one of them was adopted? cuz context/circumstances suggest touga but touga's words suggest nanami

oh fuck akio set her up

really touga? calling the Akio Sex Car on your sister? although i guess since you're akio's apprentice, and akio is the Master Of Making Everything Incest, it does make sense

no one ever does the smart thing and refuses to get in the car

and now akio's gaslighting nanami! fucking wonderful! and with philosophy bullshit too. and like, i get it, i've felt the frustration of being a limited human with limited senses and limited time and yet still craving absolute truth and absolute certainty, but that doesn't change the fact that YOU WERE RAPING YOUR SISTER, AKIO.

these two are ACTIVELY CORRALLING NANAMI INTO A SEXUAL SITUATION SHE CAN'T ESCAPE. FUCK. OH MY FUCKING GOD. FUCK. NANAMI GET OUT OF THERE THROW YOURSELF OUT OF THE CAR IF YOU HAVE TO

keiko, yuuko, and aiko are doing to nanami what nanami, yuuko, and aiko did to keiko in the black rose arc. even though none of them remember the black rose arc. (probably? what they remember and what they don't and who remembers what is kinda up for debate)

damn nanami really just went brute force on her girl gang didn't she. i think what she 'learned' from End of the World was that the only way to get what you want is through force.

that shot of utena's face was the same as it was when she challenged saionji to a duel, isn't it

showing off ESP but the audience keeps claiming it's a trick. even though at this point it's clearly not. is it utena's refusal to see what akio's doing? is it nanami's refusal to realize that anthy's not to blame here?

been a while since we had a duel, i think. at least two episodes. although my sense of time is probably messed up by the fact that i'm only doing this on days when i'm free, rather than consistently one episode per day or binging

nanami posing on the hood of the car. instead of coming out like the other duelists. and she's posing in a blatantly sexual manner too.

"what I want is to surpass everything" well it's a step up from her fixation on her brother

does nanami have her dagger? did touga pull it out as well?

"my brother was a part of who I was" and now her sense of self is shaken, now she needs a new identity. but she's 13! your teenage years are for figuring out your identity! for figuring out who you are beyond your familial connections!

she lost but the car didn't hit her--if the car represents masculinity, and saionji getting hit with the car was like--him being betrayed by his own concept of masculinity and adulthood--and nanami didn't get hit by the car--she's rejecting the norms of adulthood and gender that are being imposed on her--GO GO NANAMI

oh so they were BOTH adopted. go fucking figure. but touga's not gonna tell her cuz he, what, wants to fuck her up? wants her to question her relationship? what the hell is up with you touga

Oh also, along with writing the December 2023 Monthly Short Piece today, I finally watched the first episode of Revolutionary Girl Utena after days of seeing a moot post about it and--

"I am the Rose Bride. From this day forward, I belong to you."

i am going to murder everyone in this damn school for anthy

[ragingbookdragon]

The Vampire's Masquerade PT. 1

A Jason Todd x Vampire!Reader Story

Word Count: 14,610 Warnings: NSFW (Smut), Explicit Language, Violence, Mentions of Past Assault and Abuse

Author's Note: I made a story mixing DC and Skyrim and you're going to like it because that's what I've put on your plate. I've chaptered the story but Tumblrs a bitch and I can't post the entire thing so I'm going to do two parts. But it's still going to take forever to read. Enjoy! :) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

There’d only been a handful of times in his life where’d he’d been truly afraid. So afraid that his throat would tighten to the point he’d lose air, adrenaline pumping through his veins, making every motion lightning fast, hands and knees shaking for fear of what would come. One hand was all he needed to count that many times, but this made two.

He’d run out of ammunition moments before but even then, it didn’t matter because the bullets didn’t seem to even affect the creatures in the slightest. The All-Blades had been knocked out of his hands from the last hit that had sent him back into the concrete pillar—through it actually and slamming into the wall. Every bone in his body creaked under the strain as he slid down the wall, collapsing onto his side with a low groan that broke into a cough as blood splattered across the cobblestone.

His sides ached with a fury too, and he was still reeling from the fact that it hadn’t been a weapon, but claws—nails—that had slashed through his tri-weave, titanium body armor, like a hot knife through butter. He pressed one hand against his bleeding side and coughed again, clambering to his feet, though he stumbled back to a kneeling position when his left knee gave out.

A hissing laugh echoed around the courtyard and he looked up, glaring at the group coming back towards him, though his anger was short lived when one of them threw their hand down by their side and those silver nails glinted in the moonlight.

“You were foolish to come alone, human,” one of them growled, cocking their arm back, and in a flash, they were coming at him faster than any human could move, even someone like him.

This was it. He was going to die again, and he didn’t even know what was going to kill him.

But he wasn’t a coward, and he wasn’t going to shut his eyes at his final moments. He steeled himself, waiting for the nails to pierce his throat when his attacker suddenly reared back with a sharp cry of pain and black blood splattered across his skin as their arm dropped to the ground, severed from their body.

The other creatures gathered around the wounded one and they all seemed to hiss at something darting around in the dark courtyard and behind the pillars. He couldn’t tell what it was because it was too fast—much faster than these things he was fighting. And bigger too. He watched in shock as each creature dropped to their knees then pitched forwards, torsos hitting the ground. He brought the back of his hand to his mouth when their heads rolled away, one tumbling right up to his boot.

They were dead but his relief was short lived as a low growl sounded above him and he drug his eyes up the giant dark mass in front of him and his jaw went slack. At least the things that were trying to kill him looked human, but this thing didn’t. And he only caught flashes in the moonlight as it took a step towards him, and the cobble cracked under the heavy stomp.

It had to be at least eight feet tall and at least seven hundred pounds if that hulking frame was any help. Suddenly it spread outwards and he sucked in a breath when he realized it was the wingspan of its large, gray wings, the tips of them pointed with long black horns. He finally got a full glimpse of its body, covered in a ragged black dress, and adorned with glinting golden jewelry and rubies.

He drew his eyes up to it’s face and he felt his heart stutter in his chest and trepidation burst through his veins at the mouth that was opened, and he saw two rows of serrated white teeth and four, long razor-sharp canines. Its eyes were glowing a crimson, locked on him and it raised an impossibly honed, clawed hand, reaching towards him.

He backpaddled away from it until his back connected with something hard and he looked behind him, seeing the wall.

“Shit,” he cursed and turned back around, and he couldn’t fight the whimper that escaped him when he saw the talons right in front of his face, curled into a fist. “Please,” he begged, and the hand uncurled and before he knew what was happening, a green light shot out of its palm and hit him in the forehead.

Peace washed over him in waves, and he swayed as his eyelids drooped, and the last thing he saw was the creature reaching out to him with both hands before it all went dark.

***

He drifted along the edges of unconsciousness for hours until he was finally able to make his body wake up enough to clear the haze from his mind. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know he was somewhere unfamiliar—the smell around him wasn’t one he recognized, like herbs and sharp metal.

Cracking his eyes open, he caught sight of what looked like a woman standing in front of a table. Her arms were moving, and he couldn’t see what she was doing, but the gentle scrape of what sounded like a pestle and mortar reached his ears. He took a moment to scan his surroundings.

The room was small and quaint, with wine red walls and black furniture, oddities hung on the wall and he squinted when he thought he saw a bird sitting atop a perch. He blinked and sure enough, the bird’s head turned sideways, a single beady eye gazing at him as it tipped its head down.

He started to sit up when he heard, “Don’t move. You’ll tear your stiches.”

She turned and walked over to him, taking a seat on the side of the bed. Silently, she reached down beside the bedside table and he heard splashing, then she brought up a wet rag and started wiping his chest and abdomen.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice hoarse and scratchy from sleep.

Her eyes didn’t shift from his sun kissed skin as she drug the rag over his abs. “My name is (Y/N) Storm-Strider. But you can call me (Y/N). What is your name?” she inquired, softly.

“Jason,” he murmured and a particular spot on his side made him wince and she halted immediately, looking for signs of discomfort on his face. “Are you alright?”

He grunted and shifted slightly. “It’s a little tender.”

She hummed and picked up a little bottle from the bedside table, using her teeth to pull out the cork. “This will sting a bit, but it will help,” she murmured and with one hand, rested the rag beneath the stitched wound, the other pouring the oozing green liquid over the area.

“Shit,” Jason hissed, feeling it sting viciously for a few moments before it started to dull and ultimately numb.

Evidently, she knew what would happen because she smirked and prodded the area with a stiletto nailed finger. “Feel better now?”

He huffed a laugh. “Can’t feel anything actually.”

“Yes, that’s what a paralytic agent will do.”

“I’m sorry, paralytic?” Jason repeated, blinking at her and she nodded.

“It’s paralyzed the nerves in that particular area.”

“What about healing?”

“Oh, that’s the joy of alchemy, darling. If one is skilled enough, they can negate negatives from potions while keeping certain aspects intact.” Suddenly, her eyes turned serious as she stared at him. “To your knowledge, were you bitten by any of the creatures you were fighting?”

“I don’t think—” he went silent, eyes narrowing as he asked, “How do you know that I was fighting?”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “Who do you think saved you?”

Jason’s eyes went wide. “You mean that…thing…was you?” she merely smiled in return and he shook his head, feeling dumbfounded. “I thought…I thought you were going to kill me.”

She barked a laugh and rinsed the rag before wringing it again and wiping up his chest. “Hardly, darling. I haven’t killed someone of your kind in at least a few decades.” Her eyes narrowed as she admonished, “But I have to say it was foolish to enter a vampire’s coven with no protection.”

There was so much about that criticism that Jason wanted to open up but only one thing stuck out. “Vampires?”

(Y/N) met his teal eyes and smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, and two pointed canines. “I can hear your heart racing,” she commented, then reached up and wiped the blood from his cheek. “You needn’t be afraid of me. I won’t harm you.”

“They did,” he shot back, and she chuckled.

“Well, that’s because you were fresh blood and you stepped into their lair.” She gave him a knowing look. “By all counts they were in their right to slit your throat and feast on your blood.” Her eyes narrowed amusedly. “After they ravaged you alive, of course. Vampires are known for desecrating the living.”

His mouth opened then it closed, and he thought a moment before asking, “If you’re one of them too…why did you kill them?”

(Y/N) hummed and set the rag on the nightstand before taking his face in her hands, tilting it left and right and up and down. She was looking for something, but Jason wasn’t sure what it was. “To be completely honest I’d been planning on it. I was waiting for a better time but when Nevermore told me there was a live human vigilante engaged in a fight with them, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Nevermore?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion, and she tipped her head back to the bird sitting atop the perch.

“Raven.”

He blinked and deadpanned, “You named your raven, ‘Nevermore’?” a snort passed his lips. “Poe fan much?”

She scowled and with her pointers and thumbs, spread his eyelids open so she could examine at his eyes. “It was a fitting name for an elegant bird, smartass.” She shifted her fingers and opened his mouth, looking at his teeth. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Do you remember if one of them bit you?”

After she removed her fingers, he shook his head. “I don’t think any of them did.”

(Y/N) frowned, brows furrowed as she stood from the bed and moved to the window. She unlatched it and pushed them open before turning and holding out her arm.

“Nevermore, come,” she commanded lowly, and the bird landed on her arm. Her fingernails scratched lightly under his chin and she murmured, “Go to the grounds and fetch me some nightshade and bloodroots. We’ll need to concoct a cure for him just in case.”

The raven replied with low croak and flew out the open windows and she turned to him. “Nevermore will come back soon with the ingredients I need to make your cure, but since there will be a wait, I’d prefer you stay so I can monitor your possible condition.”

“You think I might become one of you?” he questioned, forcing himself to sit up despite her earlier warning. Now he was really worried. “How long do I have? What’s going to—”

(Y/N) shushed him with a raised hand. “Peace, Jason. Vampirism is a long process that takes many days. But it takes many painful days.” She replied and moved back to sit on the bed. “You might not be opposed to becoming one, but at the same time, one should choose vampirism for themselves, not fall prey and contract it without their expressed consent.”

She raised a hand and rested it on his chest, just above his heart and promised, “Please do not worry or be afraid. I will do everything in my power to make sure you have a complete recovery.”

Something warm bubbled in his chest, perhaps the sincerity of her words or maybe the calming trust that bled from her auburn eyes that glowed dimly, like embers of a fire.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Jason murmured, cheeks warming as she pulled her hand away and smiled.

“Are you hungry or thirsty at all?” she asked, rising from the bed. “I’d be more than happy to make you something to eat or get you something to drink.”

He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling exhausted and he shook his head. “No, I think I’ll get some rest if that’s alright with you?”

(Y/N) hummed and opened the door, but just as she stepped out, she paused and turned back around, saying, “You needn’t be scared of anything harming you in this home, Jason. You can rest peacefully knowing you are completely secure.”

He trusted her—which was a first because he didn’t usually trust strangers, but he nodded and offered her a tired smile, one she returned and closed the door behind her. He shimmied back into a laying position, resting his head on the fluffy pillow, his eyes turning to the moon still in the sky. Jason stared at it, all the thoughts of what he’d learned running through his head, and he inhaled deeply, before shutting his eyes, and drifted back into sleep.

***Chapter Two***

Something cold and wet was touching his side and it made him twitch in his sleep, face contorting as he shifted away. He exhaled and his expression eased, but a moment later the cold, wet thing was pressed against his side againand before he could open his eyes, he heard a low whine.

With furrowed brows, he opened his eyes and looked down to his right, seeing a wrinkly faced dog with slobbering jowls propping its chin in the elbow of Jason’s arm, his nose pressed into his skin.

Jason snorted and reached over, scratching the dog behind one of its floppy ears. “And who are you?” The dog shook its neck and the tag on its collar jingled, prompting him to look at it. Fang the Boarhound. It read.

“Really? She named the dog ‘Fang’?” Jason rolled his eyes. “What a bookworm.” He looked down at him. “Fang the Boarhound, huh?”

The dog let out a low groan in response, head shifting to bite at the long pants Jason was wearing. He tugged on the fabric as if telling him to come on and Jason laughed heartily.

“Alright, alright. I’m getting up,” he chuckled, and Fang relented, bounding out of the bedroom. He rolled out of the bed and paused to examine himself. Every wound along his body, especially those long gouge marks from the claws had sealed up and he couldn’t fight the impressed feeling that went through him.

He tied the jogger laces tighter around his waist and walked through the door, though he stopped when he was faced with a long hallway and a lot more doors. One was at each end of the hallway and there were two on one side of the hallway, one on the other, and then a rather large opening. Jason figured that was the entry way and he tiptoed down the black carpet.

As he neared the entrance, a big black cat padded out of the opening and sat in front of him, staring up at him with golden eyes. The cat was huge, and he recognized it as a Maine Coon. A very friendly one as it pranced over to him and mewled until he opened his arms and it hopped into them.

He scratched its chin, cooing, “Aren’t you a pretty kitty?” It meowed and flopped in his arms, tucking itself under his chin and Jason huffed a laugh as he walked through the entryway, immediately entering the living room. It was wine red just like the bedroom he’d left, and the furniture was dark as well.

Jason scanned the area and saw a light coming from his left; he walked over and entered the little kitchen area, seeing (Y/N) bent over the counter, Fang pressed into her side.

“No, Fang, you already ate.” She admonished. “You’re gonna get fat if you keep eating.”

He tipped his head back and let out a howl.

“Oh, is that right, big boy? You’re still hungry?” Fang grumbled and she smiled, pulling something out of her pocket. “Alright, here you go.” He took it from her and chewed on it, and she turned, grinning at Jason.

“I see Salem found you,” she remarked, walking over to scratch the cat’s belly. “Handsome boy.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, wouldn’t leave me alone until I picked him up.”

(Y/N) giggled. “That’s how he works.” She took Salem from him, smiling at how the cat mewled. “Go and do something productive, Salem.” The cat took off and she met Jason’s gaze. “Are you hungry?”

His mouth opened, but his stomach answered with a fierce growl and he felt his cheeks get hot as she snorted.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she replied and turned around, grabbing something from the counter. (Y/N) spun back around and handed him a plate.

Jason took it from her and glanced down at it. There was a panini sandwich with meat and cheese and various fruits surrounding it.

“Thank you,” he said, and she smiled.

“Table’s in the living room,” she said and walked around him, leaving him to follow.

She’d already pulled a chair out when he got there and he sat down, his hunger keeping him from conversation as he began to eat, her merely watching.

After he finished the first half of his sandwich, he happened to look up just as another cat was jumping into (Y/N)’s lap, this one black too like Salem, but sleeker and spotted, and peering at him with big turquoise eyes.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t you have enough pets around here? Two cats, a mastiff, a raven. That’s a lot for one woman.”

(Y/N) grinned and ran her nails down the cat’s back, smile widening when it chirped. “I’ve got one more actually, but he’s probably not going to come out until he finds himself sure of your character.”

“Dog or cat?”

“Half-wolf, actually,” she corrected. “His name’s White-Fang.”

Jason shook his head. “What is it with you and naming your pets after animals in books?”

She shrugged. “I think their names are fitting.”

“What’s the cat’s name?” he asked, nodding at the one in her lap.

“His name is Pharaoh,” she murmured, gently scratching under his chin. “He’s an Egyptian Mau. I thought the name was appropriate for the breed.” She paused. “I’m surprised he came out so easily. Pharoah usually follows White-Fangs rather anti-social nature.” Her eyes met his. “He must sense you a good character.”

Jason wanted to counter that statement, but he simply grunted and popped a grape in his mouth. “Can I ask you a question?”

(Y/N) hummed. “I assume you’ve got many you want to ask?” he nodded, and she hummed. “Just remember curiosity killed the cat.”

He huffed. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Jason gazed at her. “If those things were vampires like you…why’d you kill them?”

“Gotham has been vampiric territory for almost three centuries. Vampires like myself, who are capable of taking on another form, are tasked with keeping our kind in check.”

“You mean keeping the discovery of the supernatural a secret.”

She nodded. “That particular group has been extending itself higher and deeper into the Gotham elite. My fear was that they would try to induct some of the socialites into their coven.” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t need to consult the council to know what would happen if that occurred, so I took care of the problem before it came.”

“The council?” Jason questioned.

“The Vampiric Council. They’re responsible for overlooking all vampiric territories around the world. Really, the chain of command designates they overlook my position and I overlook lesser vampires around here.” (Y/N) sipped a glass of some red liquid he hoped wasn’t blood. “Though I haven’t been a part of the council nor its lapdog order in centuries.”

He gave her an odd look. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady’s age, but you keep saying centuries. How old are you exactly?”

(Y/N) chuckled, setting down her glass. “Do you want the age I was turned or how old I am now?”

“Both?” he quipped with a grin and she matched it.

“Hmm…I was turned when I was twenty-eight and I’m now…?” her face scrunched up. “Divines, how long ago was it when the Greeks lived?”

“About ten thousand years ago. Probably longer if you sit down and examine human history if I’m being honest.”

(Y/N) hummed. “Then I’m about ten-thousand and twenty-eight years old, give or take a few decades.”

Jason’s jaw went slack, and he simply gaped at her for a full minute. “…Are you shitting me?” he blurted out. “You lived before the Greeks were in their prime?”

She nodded and sipped her glass again. “Actually, this particular dimension wasn’t the one I was born into.” She waved a hand. “The dimension I’m originally from is much, much older.”

“How’d you manage interdimensional traveling?”

“Through sheer dumb luck and bad footing,” she griped, then let out a heavy sigh. “I was exploring a draugr ruin with a friend and somehow we came across the portal, though it was inactive.”

“And I assume the need for adventure made you curious about how to get it going again?”

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted to her glass as she murmured, “You’d assume correctly. We combined our magics and got it to come to life, but something must’ve malfunctioned. As old as the ruin was, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.” She swirled the liquid. “My friend was sucked into it and I reacted, trading places with her.”

She looked up and met Jason’s eyes. “She was safe, and I fell through. I ended up in Neolithic Greece, as it’s referred to now.”

He wasn’t sure he should be so shocked. Honestly, he’d probably seen and heard more stunning things but still, her age and story were incredible.

“You’re really that old?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I am.”

“How’d you manage to survive this long?”

“I wasn’t some helpless babe when I came here, Jason. I knew how to take care of myself. Whether it was shelter and nutrition or fighting.”

Fighting was something Jason could work with.

“What do you prefer to fight with?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“I’ve mastered one handed and two-handed weapons. And I’ve mastered most if not all, hand-to-hand combat-styles. But if I’m being honest, I prefer daggers and magic. It’s easier to take down targets with stealth.”

“What type of magic do you use?” Jason questioned curiously. Being trained by the All-Caste meant magic was a common in his repertoire.

(Y/N) paused and thought a moment. “Well…there’s a few different schools to the aspect of magic. Five to be exact.” Her face pinched. “Six, if you count Necromancy, but technically that falls underneath one of the five.”

“Necromancy? Like summoning dead? Bringing them back to life?”

Before she could respond, something tapped at the window and she looked over the loveseat to the glass, and hurriedly placed a grunting Pharaoh on the table as she made her way over. Cracking the window open, Nevermore hopped onto her wrist and she held her other hand out, smiling when he dropped a bundle into her palm.

“Good boy?” he crooned, and she nodded.

“Good boy, indeed,” she cooed, pressing her lips to his beak. Nevermore fluttered from her wrist to the table and started preening Pharoah who rolled onto his back and let him.

Her eyes found Jason’s and she held up the bundle. “I’ve got the ingredients needed to make your cure, Jason.”

“How long will it take?”

“Less than an hour.” (Y/N) walked around the table and headed through the entryway, Jason scrambling from his seat to follow after her, more curious than anything.

She opened one of the doors on the left of the hallway and he was surprised to see how big the bedroom was. “Master bedroom?”

“Upset I put you in the guest room?” she teased, and he snorted, watching as she walked over to a chest and bent down, opening it. (Y/N) pulled a few bottles out and shut it before rising once more and exiting her room, Jason still following as they moved back to the guest room.

He watched as she started pulling the nightshade petals off the stem and putting them in the mortar and grinding them. After she was apparently satisfied, she dropped in the bloodroots and started grinding them into a mixture that smelled absolutely foul. (Y/N) picked it up and scraped it into a bowl, then added the bottles of oils and liquids that she’d taken from the chest.

When she was finished, she turned and bypassed him, moving to the bedside table where the oil lamp was burning. She set the bowl on top and left it there, sitting on the bed.

“It will take time for the mixture to boil and form,” she explained, and he took a seat beside her.

“Thank you for doing this, (Y/N),” he murmured, and she nodded.

“I do it because it is not something you’ve chosen, but I must request a favor in return.” Jason motioned for her to continue. “The knowledge of my existence? Of Gotham being vampiric territory? Of the council? You must keep it a secret. From everyone, even those you trust the most.”

He stared at her for a moment. “I can do that, but why?”

(Y/N) sighed and gazed at her hands. “Jason, I’ve been living here in Gotham since before the American Revolution. This city has always been vampiric territory and I’ve been overseeing it for all this time.” Her gaze shifted to him. “I don’t want to pack up and leave because knowledge of supernatural existence has been revealed. It would only cause problems for both our kinds. Hell, for all kinds of supernatural.”

“There’s more?”

“Werewolves, fairies, nymphs, anything you can think of it exists.”

Jason blinked. “…Wow that’s…a lot of otherworldly beings.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “You’ve no idea.” She reached over and took his hand. “But I need you to swear to me that you will keep this secret. Do not tell anyone where you were the other night or what you were fighting. I’ve already disposed of the bodies and cleaned the area. No one will ever know besides us and I need it to stay that way.”

He nodded. “I will. I swear.”

She smiled and pulled her hand away. “Thank you, Jason.”

For a few moments they sat in silence, then he leaned over and asked, “So…tell me about those magic schools.”

Clapping her hands together, she chirped, “Oh, I forgot I was talking about that!” she held up a fist. “There are five schools. Restoration, Alteration, Illusion, Conjuration, and Destruction.” With every category she raised a finger.

“And Necromancy?”

“Falls under Conjuration. Each school is different, Destruction and Conjuration speak for themselves, as does Restoration. Alteration is the school of magic where it affects the world around it by altering the laws of reality and manipulating it to one's own accord, allowing you to cast spells such as water-breathing, paralysis, and dragonhide armor.”

“Illusion,” she started. “involves manipulating the mind of the enemy, allowing one to cast spells like fear, calm, and invisibility.”

Jason cocked a brow. “That spell you used on me, the one that made me pass out. Was that a calming spell?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I was worried you’d start fighting me, so I did the easiest thing. Set your mind at ease and allowed your body to rest.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it for a second, then asked, “Will you show me some spells?”

She smirked. “I thought you’d never ask.” (Y/N) raised a hand. “The school of Destruction focuses on the elevation and perfection of three basic spells: fire, frost, and sparks.” The sharp smell of magic wafted up his nose and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when she willed the purple electricity to her fingers.

“Each spell can be elevated to the master level of fire storm, blizzard, and lighting storm. All devastating spells. There are also spells that can cause health absorption from your enemies.” She smiled. “I’m favorable of those.”

“What are your favorite destruction spells?” he questioned, and she thought for a moment.

“I’m favorable to two: unbounded storms and the touch of death. Both are incredibly effective on the battlefield, though the touch of death is useful for stealth killings.”

Jason’s lips pulled in a satisfactory way. “That’s impressive. I’d love to see those in action sometime.” He smiled at her. “Show me the invisibility spell.”

“Say please,” she countered, and he chuckled.

“Pretty please.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes and waved her hand, the sparks fading into a shimmering blue cube with pink, orange, and purple swirling around her hand. She curled her hand into a fist and then released it, and to Jason’s amazement, she disappeared from sight.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “That’s awesome.”

Her giggle sounded beside him and she waved a hand that he had to squint to see. “Invisibility works on those who aren’t trained to spot changes in the environment. I’m invisible, but you can see me if you look close enough.” Snapping her fingers, she appeared instantaneously, and he blinked.

“Wow…that’s an impressive ability.”

“Thank you,” she smiled and turned her attention to the mixture that was bubbling over the lamp. “I think this should be done by now.” Taking it off the lamp, she wiggled her fingers and Jason could feel the chill from where he was sitting as she transferred it to her frozen hand, watching the steam rise from the contact.

After a moment, she handed it to him and said, “Drink.”

The natural human reaction was to smell it and that’s what he did, all but recoiling from the horrid scent. She laughed. “It’s not meant to be caramel syrup, Jason. It’s a cure for a disease. Plug your nose and chug.”

Jason scowled at her before squeezing his nostrils shut and lifting the bowl to his lips. He almost vomited when it touched his tongue, but he forced it down his throat and finished with an entire body shudder.

(Y/N) took the bowl back and gently cradled his cheek in her hand. “Let me see,” she urged, and he stared into her glowing ember eyes. Something appeared in her vision, relief, then she smiled and pulled her hand back; he mourned the loss of contact, even if her hand was freezing. “Yes, if you had caught vampirism, you’re cured of it now,” she said.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he expressed, and she stood, giving him a smile.

“You needn’t thank me, Jason. I’m only doing what’s right.” She nodded at the chair in the corner. “I fixed your suit for you, so whenever you’re ready to leave, you may.”

As she headed for the door to give him privacy, he called out, “Can I come back to see you?” She glanced over her shoulder with an arched brow, and he added rather quickly, “To see more magic and hear about your life?”

(Y/N) gave him a smile and nodded. “I think I’d like that, Jason.” She turned back around. “It’s been far too long since I had personal contact with a human. Maybe you can show me how to work a smartphone.”

“You don’t have a smartphone? In this day in age?”

“I have a rotary phone!” she retorted and scowled, “I don’t even have credit cards, Jason.”

“How do you pay for things?” he asked.

“I use cash? I’m rich, Jason. And I mean old, old world rich.”

***Chapter Three***

He hadn’t even taken one step into the cave when he was clobbered to the floor by three brothers in a bear hug. His back hit the cold cave floor and he mentally thanked that she’d healed his wounds because that probably would’ve opened them.

That being said, she hadn’t healed his sour mood because he immediately growled, “Get off me, now.”

His eldest brother looked up at him. “Jason, you’ve been missing since last night!” he cried. “We were worried about you!”

“Well, I’m obviously alive and safe, so get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” He scowled at his brothers. “All of you.” They climbed off and pulled Jason to his feet, letting him brush off his clothes.

“Where’ve you been all night, Jay?” Tim questioned, taking a moment to pull the leather jacket away from his older brother’s side. “Your suit looks like it took damage…but I see you fixed it.” his head cocked to the side. “It looks like you used a blacksmith forge to do it.”

Jason whacked his hand away, tugging his jacket back in place to cover the fixes she’d made. “Got into a tussle with a couple gangbangers and tore my suit.” He glanced at his father who was making his way over, a frown on his face.

Bruce stood in front of him and held up a communicator. “You missed three calls. The first from Dick, the second from Alfred, and the last from me.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” he grunted. “I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself without having to check in every hour like a pre-teen on his first date.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, then calmly stated, “I got into a fight, got my suit ripped, and went back to an underground safehouse outside the city where I fixed it and recovered for the night.”

He looked at his family. “I’m sorry I missed the calls but I’m alive and I’m safe. So can we drop it?”

For a moment, Jason thought he was in the clear, then Dick’s eyes narrowed in that stupid way that meant he was going to say something completely ridiculous, but not exactly off the mark.

“Were you with a girl?” Dick teased. “It’s okay, Little-wing, you don’t have to be ashamed of seeing your girlfriend.”

It was a trap and by God ,Jason knew it, but damned if he couldn’t help himself. “For your information, Dickhead, I’m bisexual so I could’ve been seeing a boy, but no, I wasn’t seeing a girl. I was sleeping. Alone.”

“The lady doth protest too much methinks,” Damian smirked, and Jason pointed at him.

“I’m not above kicking your ass just because you’re younger than me,” he threatened and shoved past everyone, moving to the suit racks. “I’m going back to bed.”

“But you haven’t told us about your girlfriend,” Tim called, grinning whenever Jason threw him the finger from behind.

“I already told you, I wasn’t with anyone,” he retorted and stomped up the stairs to the study.

Dick crossed his arms over his chest with a smile and murmured, “B, I think Little-wings’ got himself a woman, don’t you?”

Bruce merely hummed in response. “I’m still concerned about the complete radio silence. He’s never done that before.”

“Oh, come on, who do you think we learned radio silence from, Mister-Robin-Go-Find-Evidence-While-I-Apprehend-Catwoman?” he countered, smirking when Bruce glowered at him. “Everyone wants a bit of privacy every now and then B, and as much as we’d love to tease Little-wing into telling us who he was with, he is entitled to his silence every now and then.”

“True,” Bruce grunted. “But I still don’t like my sons ignoring me when I’m worried.”

Suddenly he was being pulled into a hug by the three boys around him while Dick squeaked, “Aww you do care!”

“Hrn, get off me.”

***

It’d been about two months since Jason came back to (Y/N)’s home, knowing that his brothers were watching him every night to see if he’d go offline again. He’d told them to screw off more times than he could count, but finally they relented, either assured of the fact that he wasn’t going to say anything or that they actually believed he had been alone that night.

Regardless, he found himself standing in front of her home, and now that he thought about it, the place was a lot smaller outside than it was on the inside, like those tents in the Harry Potter movies. Magic. He assumed and reached up, grabbing the brass door knocker that gave him the heebie jeebies more than he wanted to admit.

The ring sat in the mouth of a brass skull that had demonic horns curled around it. He shook his head and tapped the knocker a couple times then pulled away when he heard clacking on the other side of the door.

“Open!” something said.

He turned the antique brass doorknob, pushing open the door with a quiet, “Excuse me.”

Jason paused as he stepped inside. (Y/N) wasn’t anywhere in the living room or kitchen and he frowned, wondering where she was when something tugged at his jacket sleeve.

“Here!”

Glancing down, he saw the raven hopping up and down and he smiled, holding out his wrist, watching it hop to his forearm then up to his shoulder.

“Hey Nevermore. How are you today?”

The bird croaked in return. “Happy.”

“Yeah? Where’s (Y/N) at?”

“Studio!” Nevermore replied and Jason started moving past the coffee table and couch, smiling at the Neapolitan Mastiff and Maine coon lazing.

“Hey Fang, hey Salem.”

Fang didn’t even wake up, but Salem mewled once and shut his eyes again, flopping onto the dog’s wrinkly back.

Jason got to the hallway and paused. “Alright bud, which way?”

Nevermore hopped once. “Right!”

“Right it is,” he agreed and walked down the hallway to the single open door. He knocked quietly on the doorframe and stepped inside, immediately catching sight of (Y/N) at a stool, a paintbrush in her hand as she delicately lined her work.

“Good morning, Jason,” she said. “I was wondering when you were going to come back around.”

He hummed and walked over, watching as Nevermore flew off his arm to perch atop a wooden peg in the corner of the room.

“My family wouldn’t let up about the other night.”

“Ah,” she replied, and though he couldn’t see her face, he could hear her smile. “Yes, the notorious Batfamily. Master detectives, I’ve been led to believe, hmm?”

Jason stood beside her, gazing at her ember eyes that traced the movement of the paintbrush. She must’ve been seeing something he hadn’t because her hands were shifting faster than could follow.

“You know about us?”

“That Bruce Wayne is Batman and that his children are the gangling quartet of Robins? Oh yes, Jason. I’ve known since he took up the mantle.” Her eyes finally found his. “Pull that stool from over there and sit. I’ll be here for some time.”

He did as she said and sat down, propping his elbows on his knees. “Who are you painting this for?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Some billionaire in Hong Kong commissioned a painting of his dog and his brood of pups.”

“You don’t know the guy’s name?” Jason snorted and she shook her head.

“As I said, you’re the first personal human contact I’ve had in decades.” She dabbed the paintbrush in blue and painted the eyes of the sire. “I don’t typically associate with humanity much anymore. It’s easier to let things simply pass by.”

He frowned. “That seems like a lonely existence, (Y/N).”

“Not so much. I’ve had the boys for all this time.”

Jason blinked, then looked at Nevermore. “Wait, how old are your pets?”

“Immortality doesn’t just stop at vampires, Jason. The boys are all of extended lifeforms.” She smiled that pearly white grin and he saw the pointed canines. “Nevermore for example is tied to my life. He won’t die unless I do.”

“What if he gets crushed in a meat grinder?” Jason countered. “I feel like would stop him from coming back.”

“He’d come back missing a few feathers,” (Y/N) snorted when Nevermore squawked in anger. “But trust me, he’d come back, Jason.” She glanced at him. “How’ve you been? Any more problems?” He scowled, making her laugh. “Oh, this I have to hear.”

Jason grunted. “My brothers wouldn’t leave me alone about that night I was radio silent. They kept asking who my girlfriend was.”

“Did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?” he repeated, confused.

“Who your girlfriend was.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

(Y/N) huffed. “Should’ve said you were with someone. That probably would’ve gotten them off your back enough.”

“I thought you said to keep it a secret,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I did. But people are going to believe whatever they want to believe even if you’re sincere about otherwise,” she explained with a knowing tone. “I’d’ve just said I was with someone and couldn’t be bothered to talk because I was ravishing them until they couldn’t walk.”

Jason’s face went hot, and his stomach felt tight as he looked away. “Oh, uh, I…” he trailed off and cleared his throat. “I guess that’s how you play ball, huh?”

(Y/N) chuckled lowly, sending shivers down his spine. “I’d almost forgotten how easy humans flustered.” She shot him a polite smile. “Apologies. I’m used to vampiric vulgarities.”

“Vampires are vulgar? Aren’t vampires supposed to be regal and pretentious?”

She cackled. “Oh, they are,” (Y/N) agreed. “When vampires aren’t attending council meetings or higher functions and are in a small group of trusted companions, they’d act so obscenely it’d put sailors to shame.” She sighed wistfully. “Massive orgies, endless feedings and flowing wine. It’s all so…common.”

“Have you attended many of those…parties?” Jason quizzed and she nodded.

“I did back a very, very long time ago, but I haven’t for some time now. It’s not exactly my thing.”

“But it’s a thing for vampires?” he said, brows furrowing.

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Feeding when copulating is supposed to be an intimate thing. Between two, in private, behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, because it’s a binding of blood and bodies. It’s meant to be an exclusive thing not an inclusive one.”

She shook her head. “It’s…hard to explain to someone who isn’t a vampire nor a lover of one.”

“Have you ever done it?”

(Y/N) blinked. “Fed in private?” he nodded, and she tipped her head in agreement. “With other vampires yes, but not humans.”

Jason felt curiosity course through him. “How come? I’d figure if you’re one who enjoys the more private events, why not humans too?”

“Because I stopped consuming human blood before I fell through the portal ten thousand years ago,” she explained. “Even then, the last intimate relationship I ever had with a human was in Scandinavia when the Vikings walked the earth some millennia ago. I haven’t been with another human since he died.”

“Sounds like it’s not a happy subject,” he murmured, and she nodded. “It��s okay, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s alright. Mathias didn’t want me to mourn him but to remember him with joy.” (Y/N) rested the brush on her thigh. “Mathias got sick and none of my Restoration magic was healing him nor the rituals his clan were casting. I offered to make him one of my kind. It would’ve saved him, and we would’ve been together, but…” she trailed off and in a moment of compassion, Jason laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then inhaled deeply. “He worried that Odin wouldn’t accept him into Valhalla when he met his end. At the same time, he didn’t wish for me to break my vow of never consuming human blood again.” Her lips pulled into a sad smile, lamenting, “I held him when he took his last breath, and then I lit the pyre he laid upon.”

(Y/N) shook herself out of her stupor. “I then travelled across the lands for many centuries and to the Americas where I’ve been now.” She smiled. “I have had many human friends over the years and each time it gets easier to let go. You learn the pain is only temporary, but their memories are forever.”

Jason couldn’t think of a thing to say so he simply squeezed her shoulder again and pulled away, resting his hands in his lap. After a moment, he commented, “You’re an extraordinarily strong woman, (Y/N). I don’t think I’d be able to live as long as you could.”

“There’s always something new to discover, Jason. Vampirism is merely an extension of life until you die. Perhaps when this land is but ruins, I’ll travel back to Europe and discover something new?” she smiled, and he felt his heart thump against his ribcage. “The possibilities are endless.”

Before he could say anything, a low growl sounded from the doorway and Jason looked over his shoulder and hissed, “Oh shit.”

(Y/N) snorted and spun on her stool, holding out her hands to the wolfdog in the doorway. “White-Fang! I see you’ve come out of the study for once.”

The hybrid bounded over with heavy footfalls and Jason almost shit himself when it got up close. Because it was bigger than he’d imagined. Bigger, and dark furred, with bright white eyes.

She drew her hand up his hackles. “How’s my big, scary boy doing?” he growled in response, low and gravely, practically glaring at Jason.

“Is he going to eat me?” Jason whispered with mild-fear and he swore that wolfdog laughed at him.

(Y/N) huffed. “No, he’s not going to eat you.” She patted White-Fang’s head. “He’s just teasing.”

“I think he wants to eat me,” Jason retorted when she grabbed his hand and he whimpered as she neared the hybrid’s head. “My hand especially.”

She leveled White-Fang with a glare. “Heel.” The wolfdog immediately sat down and waited, watching carefully as Jason’s hand neared his head, and when it touched, he held for a second then groaned and moved around until Jason’s hand was at his ear.

“He wants you to scratch his ears, Jason,” she murmured, and he did, grinning like an idiot as the hybrids leg started thumping on the ground. “See, he’s not so scary.”

“I bet he is to anyone that tries to hurt you,” he remarked with a smirk and she smiled.

“Oh, he’s ripped a few throats out, certainly.” (Y/N) patted White-Fang’s side. “Alright boy, wanna go outside?”

He was pulling away from Jason’s hand in an instant, twirling in a circle at the door whilst growling for her to hurry.

“Well, go find your harness and you can leave.”

He disappeared and Jason questioned, “Harness?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I make Nevermore go with him so he can keep an eye out for trouble.” She huffed. “Animal control is one thing I don’t need on my plate.”

White-Fang came back with a harness in his mouth and bounded to (Y/N), letting her adjust it. After she was finished, Nevermore cawed, and perched himself atop a little wooden handle on White-Fang’s back, starting to preen himself as the hybrid hurried to the front door.

“Can he open that him—” the front door slammed, and Jason blinked. “I guess that answers that question.”

She giggled and stood to her feet, stretching her arms over her head before asking, “Want something to eat?”

Jason smiled. “Yeah, I could eat.”

***Chapter Four***

It was a constant weekly visit to her home, but Jason almost found himself returning every other day. At first, he thought it was some vampiric seduction she’d put over him, but with every laugh that escaped her lips from the stupid jokes he’d stolen from his older brother, he realized it wasn’t supernatural power that kept him coming back—it was love. He was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her. And it only made it harder to see her because he knew with the knowledge of her previous human lover, she wasn’t going to be interested in Jason. But he could hope.

He stowed the black key into his pocket and curled a hand around the doorknob, pushing it open. “(Y/N)!” he called out.

Somewhere in the home, he heard, “In the study!”

God, that was another reason he loved her. She had books galore. First additions of books he’d only ever dreamed of holding, let alone reading. And she’d told him to take whatever he’d wanted.

He couldn’t stop himself from hurrying to the door at the opposite end of the hallway, turning into the study to see her bent over her desk, penning something on letter paper. He smiled at Nevermore who was perched on the bust above her on the wall.

(Y/N) looked up at him and gave a tired smile. She must’ve been about to go to bed from the looks of her wear, a black chemise she was fond of. “Good evening, Jason. How are you doing tonight?”

He put down the takeout bag on one of the loveseats and walked around her desk, leaning back on the edge.

“Well, it looks like I’m doing a lot better than you are,” he remarked, glancing down at her letter. It was full of words he didn’t understand, obviously another language he didn’t recognize, but he caught ‘Vampire’ and ‘Council’ a couple times but there was one word that slightly worried him and that was ‘Lycan’.

She sighed heavily and placed the pen back it its stand and rubbed her temples. “I’ve spent the last eight hours penning letters to and from the council and other confidants in neighboring locations.” (Y/N) pinched the bridge of her nose. “There’s a problem in Gotham and I’ve got to understand how it started and fix it before it gets worse.”

Jason eyed her. “Are you talking about the werewolf that’s been running around at night?” he sighed. “I just got off patrol looking for the damned thing.”

“So, you are as well?” she answered lowly, her ember eyes shifting to gaze out the window at the nightly moon reflecting off one of the windows of a skyscraper. “I don’t know how one got into Gotham without my knowledge, but it has.”

She stood suddenly and walked around to her drink stand, pouring a glass of wine; she took a sip. “Now the council is up my ass about Lycan-encroachment on vampiric territory and I still have to contact the nearest werewolf colony to ask if they’ve lost one. I’m sure they’ll tell me to screw off in less nicer ways.”

“Yeah, Bruce isn’t too happy about the thing either,” Jason said, and he could feel his eyes on her as he mumbled, “It’s been killing every night and last night it ripped a family to shreds. Mom and a dad with three kids.”

A glass shattered and he looked over, seeing (Y/N)’s hand clenched tightly, wine glass in shards on the floor, red wine and black blood mixing as it ran down her arm.

“(Y/N),” he exclaimed, moving to her and he saw the crystal tears on her cheeks.

“Fuck,” she hissed harshly. “Nevermore and I have been out every night for the last week, but we can’t find the fucking thing.” Her auburn eyes found his and he saw the wrath within them. “To hell with the werewolf colony and protocol. I’ll rip that moon-born’s spine out with my bare hands.”

Her skin started to turn that pale gray like her second form and Jason gently took her hand, “Calm down, (Y/N).” She gazed at him and before she could say anything, he added, “If my family and I can’t find it, I don’t think you could either.” He gave a tight smile and reached up with his opposite hand, caressing her cheek. “Let’s get your hand cleaned up, yeah?”

She let him guide her to the bathroom where she sat town on the toilet seat, gazing deadly at the wall ahead while he pulled out a black bag, digging around for tweezers. Jason started plucking the glass out of her hand, every so often pausing to check for signs of discomfort in her expression.

When he was finished, he held her hand over the sink and rinsed it before toweling it, and when he pulled the black towel away, her wounds had already resealed themselves. He tossed the towel onto the sink and held her hands, not exactly knowing what to say to her.

“How old were the children?” she questioned calmly, and he sighed.

“Two, ten, and fifteen.”

(Y/N)’s eyes welled with tears again and she dug her black-nailed fingers into her palm, ignoring the pricks of pain. “Goddamn them,” she cursed in a tone frozen as winter. “Damn them to hell. All of their kind.” He watched her quietly as she raged. “Goddamn Lycan colonies allowing their kind to trample all over other kinds’ territories with no regard for the natural or supernatural. This is why I hate werewolves. They’re so inconsiderate and destructive.”

She brought a hand to her eyes, harshly wiping the tears. “Three children taken before their times and no justice to be given.” A sob escaped her. “I’ve allowed myself to become too complacent with your family protecting Gotham that I forgot my duty. Now look what I’ve caus—”

Jason took her hands. “Woah, woah, woah,” he said firmly, digging his thumbs between her fingers and her palms. “(Y/N), you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That family though—”

“Didn’t die by your hands,” he replied. “You’ve been trying to stop it. You haven’t been negating your duties. You never had the duty of keeping Gotham safe from crime.”

(Y/N) blinked. “What?”

“Your duty has always been to keep vampires in line here, not to stop crime from happening.” He shook his head. “As far as anyone is concerned, you’ve been doing exactly that. There is no complacence on my family.”

She gazed at him for a long moment, then leaned forward; Jason followed, pressing his forehead to hers. “Your words are kind, Jason, but I fear they’re not negating my emotions.”

One of Jason’s hands rose to hold her cheek. “Let me try another way,” he whispered and tilted her face, delicately pressing his lips to hers.

(Y/N) started to pull back. “Jason, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Let me help you right now.”

“I need,” she started. “I need more, Jason.”

He nodded. “Whatever you want from me, you can have, doll.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered, and she was never one to be held like she was glass. She surged forward and curled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and Jason responded with a noise of shock which she swallowed, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her against him.

Suddenly, she pulled back and whatever he was planning on saying died on his lips when she commanded, “Bed. Now.”

Jason couldn’t help the startled laugh as he pulled away, letting himself be shoved backwards out the bathroom door and down the hallway. “Excited, aren’t you?”

She scowled as his back collided with the bedroom door and he lowered a hand trying to open it. “You’ve been walking on eggshells for the last six months, Jason. You want this as much as I do.”

His eyes went wide, and he stopped fumbling for the doorknob. “You—you know?”

(Y/N) pressed up against his body, shoving one of her thighs between his hips and Jason inhaled sharply as she ground herself against him. “Of course, I know,” she purred, tugging the collar of his shirt down. “I can smell your desire every time you come here.”

Jason’s only reply was a groan when she latched onto the skin just above his collarbone, sucking a red welt into it. One of his hands gripped her waist, the other starting back for the doorknob again, but she grabbed it and slammed it beside his head, fingers wrapping around his wrist just shy of painful.

“Blood, you see, Jason, is intoxicating on its own,” she murmured, trailing her lips up his throat, nipping enough that it had his hips canting forward, trying to rub against her thigh. “But the pheromones of desire?” (Y/N) whispered in his ear. “Are even more so,”

And he was helplessly pinned between her and the oak door, as she lowered her free hand and swiftly undid his belt buckle and popped the button of his jeans before she tugged his zipper down just enough to give it slack.

She slid her hand down into the front of pants and cupped him, smirking when he gasped and rolled his hips into her palm. “Divines, I could smell it crawling all over you,” she said. “I could smell those times you’d come over after relieving yourself of the ache.”

“(Y/N),” Jason moaned, and she squeezed him again, eliciting an even deeper moan from his throat.

“Tell me, Jason. How many times?” she asked, and he couldn’t find the words to answer her, starting to pant. “How many since we met have you taken your cock in your hand and pleasured yourself?”

“I—fuck—too many to count,” he gasped and gazed down at her; she was giving him that perfect little smile that made him twitch in her grasp.

(Y/N) shifted her hand and slid it inside his boxers, wrapping her fingers around his length and Jason’s knees almost went out beneath him right there when she started pumping him. “What do you think about when you do?” she smirked. “I know it’s obviously me.” Her ember eyes bored into his as she squeezed him. “Is it my mouth? Or my hand?”

He swallowed thickly, breath hitching as he confessed, “Y-you’re on your back and you’re—”

“I’m already bored, Jason,” (Y/N) cooed. “Missionary is boring.”

A chuckle actually made it from him at that and he whispered, “You didn’t let me finish.”

She laughed, countering, “Good thing I’m going to let you.” He groaned as she swiped her thumb over his tip, pressing down. “Come on, Jason. Give me something I can work with. Give me the most lust-filled scenario you’ve thought about.”

To accentuate her point, she tugged his length roughly and he growled, “I’m fucking you into the bed senseless while your ankles and wrists are bound and you’re screaming yourself hoarse.”

(Y/N)’s lips split with delight and he saw those points again as she pricked her tongue on one and all he wanted to do was suck the black blood pooling on the tip of it. “Am I on my stomach?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Your ass is up in the air and your—shit—your ankles are tied to your bed posts.”

“Ooo, I’m spread open for you, huh? Afraid I’ll be a bad girl and move before you can tell me too? Or are you afraid I’ll take control and ride you?” she taunted.

Jason’s eyes darkened and he glared down at her. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

(Y/N) grinned evilly and quipped, “Not right now you’re not.” She started pumping him faster and he sucked in a breath as his thighs started to quiver, stomach muscles clenching in anticipation.

“(Y/N),” he warned with a deep grunt, and she placed her thumb underneath his head, massaging there.

“I can smell it, darling,” she whispered, “how close you are.” She pressed her lips to his pulse point, mouthing the skin, flicking her tongue to taste the salt of his sweat. “I want to feel you come apart. Do it, Jason. For me, please, darling.”

“(Y/N) I—I’m gonna—” he choked out and she pressed herself onto his clothed thigh, rubbing and moaning and he could feel how damp she was. It sent him spiraling. “Doll, I’m—fuck I’m—” Jason threw his head back and canted his hips forward, seeing stars as he pulsed in her hand, jaw going slack as he let out a guttural groan. She twisted her wrist and pumped him through it until he was grabbing at her wrist, an overstimulated and shaking mess.

She leaned away from his neck and pulled her hand from his boxers, lifting her fingers to her lips. He watched as her tongue darted out and tasted him and he felt the desire pool low in his gut again as she moaned, swirling her tongue between two of her fingers, collecting the sticky white lines leftover.

Jason grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him, pulling her into a searing kiss, groaning at the taste of himself on her tongue. She was strong, but he wrenched his wrist out of her iron tight grip and grabbed the doorknob, shoving the door open. He swallowed her laugh, and she tipped her head back so he had better access.

They stumbled to the bed and his calves hit the edge. Her hands were already pushing his pants down to his knees to the floor and he leaned away from her, pulling his shirt over his head. He smirked when her eyes flared with need and she placed her hands on his chest and shoved. Jason went down easy, and she was crawling over his body, lowering herself to grind on him.

He bit back a groan as he felt himself hardening and slipped his fingers under her thigh length chemise, feeling up her stomach and to her breasts. (Y/N) gasped when his thumbs swiped over her nipples and she arched her back into his touch.

“Like that?” he smirked, and she matched his grin.

“I’d like it a lot better if you pinched ‘em.” He chuckled and did exactly that, moaning when she ground herself harder onto him, her head tipping back slightly.

Jason pulled his hands away and she whined until he grabbed the chemise and lifted above her head and off her body. His eyes widened when he realized she was completely nude underneath and she giggled when he twitched beneath her.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the great dick is surprised. Both figuratively andliterally.” (Y/N) placed a hand on his broadly defined chest and bent her knees beside his hips, resting the tops of her feet on his thighs.

He grunted and griped her hips as she raised herself up. “Something tells me you were planning this all night.”

She smiled sweetly and grabbed him, using his head to spread herself. “Did you want me to wait for dinner first?”

Jason’s laugh dissolved quickly as he groaned, “God, you’re so wet, doll.” He could feel her dripping down his length and he fought to keep himself under control and not thrust up into her heat.

“I can’t help it, darling. You do it to me.” She sunk down on him slowly, letting out a moan that hitched when he bottomed out inside her.

(Y/N) took a moment to breathe, letting herself adjust to his size; he was certainly bigger than most and she knew he was thinking it by that smart grin on his lips, though she could tell by the way his chest was heaving that he was straining.

“Tell me, Jason, was this ever a fantasy of yours?” she asked, pulling at his hands until he ran them up her legs, massaging the flesh of her thighs.

“Absolutely,” he panted, and she purred when he pressed his thumb between her legs and rubbed lightly.

“Please tell me you were handcuffed to this bed, darling,” she begged and using her leverage she raised herself off him all the way then sunk back down, grinding her hips against his. “Tell me I was watching you writhe underneath me while I bounced up and down on you.” She moaned. “Oh, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come all over my fingers thinking about riding your cock.”

Jason’s back arched slightly, and he couldn’t help but dig his head into the pillow beneath him. “Fuck, your mouth is so dirty, (Y/N).”

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Tell me something I don’t know,” she countered, then shifted, taking one of his rosy buds in her mouth.

“You’re really tigh—fuckin’ hell,” he cursed when she tugged lightly with her teeth.

(Y/N) laved it over with her tongue and was heading for the second one when he grabbed her chin and yanked her head up, hissing, “Ride me like you mean it or I swear to God, I’ll flip us and fuck you until you’re boneless in this bed.”

“Promises, promises, darling,” she cooed and put both hands on his chest to push herself up. And that was all she said before setting a vicious pace, bouncing up and down, and all Jason could do pinned underneath her was grab her hip and thrust up when she came down.

When he tried to sit up to hold her, she placed one hand in the center of his chest. “Not right now, darling. Later tonight.”

He groaned. “We’re still gonna be busy tonight?”

(Y/N) winked. “All until the early morning hours,” she panted and with her free hand, reached between her legs. She hissed at the added pleasure and then Jason knocked her hand away, replacing it with his fingers and soon she was clenching tighter and tighter around him as he sped up.

“Jason,” she whimpered, the coil in her gut moments away from snapping and he nodded, massaging the flesh of her hip with his free hand.

“I know, doll,” he replied heatedly, swirling his thumb tighter and faster. “Let go. Let me feel you around me.” Jason bypassed her hand this time and sat up, pulling her against his body and he grabbed her chin, growling, “Come for me, (Y/N). Do it. I wanna see you come all over my cock.”

(Y/N) stilled in his lap with a gasp as she shuddered against him, insides fluttering as the ache between her legs pulsed. Jason’s thrusting turned frantic and sloppy and soon he was falling over the edge too, grip like steel on her body as he spilled himself deep inside her with a low groan. He collapsed back onto the mattress, pulling her with him and they lay there, panting and sweating, but satiated and content.

Jason’s fingers skimmed up and down her spine and she nestled against his chest, her long fingernails delicately tracing the scars over his skin.

For a moment, all was calm and quiet, then in the quietest, most painfilled tone she’d ever heard him use, he whispered, “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

She didn’t want to move herself from his warmth, though she tipped her head up, propping her chin on his chest. “What for?”

He couldn’t look at her. “I—I didn’t want to do this.”

“What?” she breathed and immediately she was pulling away from him, ignoring the separation of their bodies. “If you didn’t want to do this then why would you—”

Jason held her close and lamented, “Mathias. I…I didn’t want to make you think of him.”

(Y/N) gaped at the man beneath her, then she calmed and rested a hand on his cheek, explaining, “Jason, Mathias died thousands of years ago.” She smiled, though he could see the sadness, even as minute as it was. “I lost him, yes, and I mourned him for many decades. But I moved on.” Her thumb swiped over his skin. “You needn’t worry of my affections for Mathias coming in between this. I loved him. Past tense.”

Her eyes flashed with sincerity. “But right now? I love you. Present tense.”

Jason blinked in shock. “You…you love me?” he shook his head when she nodded. “I just thought that you’d want…well you know…”

She laughed. “That I’d just want sex?”

“Yeah…”

“I trust me, I do want that. But,” she began and leaned up, brushing her nose against his. “I want your heart, Jason.”

“Please mean that figuratively and not literally,” he joked, and she rolled her eyes.

“I forgot how much humans could act like asses when they wanted too.”

He let out a ‘hmpf’ and tipped his head up. “You like my ass, thank you very much. It’s perfect and round and perky.”

“I do. And it is. But I think I’ll like it more when I’ve got you shoved face first into the bed and it’s all pretty in the air for me,” she smirked and his eyes went wide, jaw dropping.

“Are you talking about…”

(Y/N) grinned wickedly. “Oh yes, darling. Yes, I am. I’ve got one in the drawer down there if you want to go ahead and start the process.”

Jason swallowed thickly and chuckled nervously, “Maybe we can save that for a later day?”

Giggling, she nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, Jason.”

“Oh, thank God,” he sighed, cracking a smile when she snorted. He looked at her and cupped her cheek. “I love you, (Y/N).”

She smiled wholeheartedly and he felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I know. And I you.”

***Chapter Five***

Jason learned to not hope for things to stay the way they were in his life. He lived each day knowing it could be his last, a stray bullet or a well-placed knife between two ribs, he didn’t hope to stay alive—he wanted to, but he didn’t hope for it. But when it came to the fifth month of dating her, he hoped things would never change.

It was odd at first, staying over at her home every other night. Mainly because he learned early on that (Y/N)’s vampirism meant she hardly ever needed sleep. An hour, maybe two at the most, and then she was ready to go. Of course, when he’d brought it up, she did mention that the older she got, the less sleep she needed. Something about being as powerful as she was. Apparently, new blooded vampires slept for months on end, whereas the older ones barely slept at all.

He also noticed that with her not-sleeping, she also watched him a lot. It did send shivers up his spine, but not in the bad way. The only reason he knew she did was because he was asleep at one point and being trained to know when there were eyes on him, the hair at the back of his neck kept standing up and when he rolled over and opened his eyes, she offered him a sheepish grin and an apology for staring at him. “You’re really handsome and content when you sleep, darling.” She’d said. “It makes for a perfect inspiration to paint.” Jason learned to relax after that.

But soon, every other night carrying a duffel bag to her place became spending every night and filling a chest of drawers with his pants and undergarments, and the closet with his shirts and jackets. She’d even let him use an armor stand in her basement—she had a basement with weapons and armor and a blacksmithing station that made him squeal like a child when he first saw it—to place one of his extra suits. If it had been anyone else, Jason would’ve said things were moving way too fast, but something about (Y/N) told him that there wasn’t going to be anyone after her—while he wouldn’t be her last love, she was the last he’d ever have.

***

Arms encircled his waist and he hummed as she propped her chin on his bicep, watching as he prepared the vegetables. “What are you making?” she murmured, pressing a kiss just below where his T-shirt sleeve stopped.

He noticed that about (Y/N) too. She was very affectionate, always pressing kisses to where she could reach, or resting her hand or leg on him. He’d never been big on contact since coming back, but there was something so comforting about the chill of her lips and fingertips when she did.

Jason sliced into a carrot. “Beef stir-fry.” He grabbed a long green bean from one of the bowls just off the cutting board and raised it to his arm, smiling when she took it from him.

“Mmm, I’m glad I don’t have to do all the cooking for once,” (Y/N) quipped, as she licked her lips.

“Oh, is that all you’re keeping me around for then? To be your personal chef?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jason.” Her eyes twinkled and she pressed herself up against his back, her hands sliding down to his haunches where she squeezed lightly. “I keep you around as a personal bed warmer too.”

He barked a laugh and glanced over at her. “I should’ve seen that coming.” (Y/N) puckered her lips and Jason chuckled. “I did see that one coming though,” he remarked as he pressed his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss when she giggled.

She pulled away from him and walked to his other side, leaning down on the counter. “Do you want any help?”

“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ve got it.” Jason turned his eyes onto her. “Did you get any response from the Lycan colony in Virginia?” (Y/N)’s eyes momentarily darkened, and he sighed. “Guess not.”

“They won’t talk to me through unofficial channels,” she answered. “If I actually want to learn what’s been happening, I’ll have to ask the council to call a meeting with the Lycan Alliance.” She rolled her eyes. “Going through the procedure is just bureaucratic bullshit but it’s what’s kept our kinds from all-out war for thousands of years.”

Jason glanced at her. “There some type of truce made like in the movies?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Back when I still worked on the council I—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, disbelief crossing his face. “You sat on the Vampiric Council? But I thought you hated it?”

“Oh no, I don’t hate the council. I loathe it. Entirely,” she corrected. “But I was the one who put forth most of the effort to get the truce into place.”

“Really now?” he wondered, eyes wide with impression. “How’d that come about?”

“Tensions between our species reached a boiling point and we were headed for full annihilation of our species if we couldn’t find peace somehow,” (Y/N) remembered. “I called on the leaders of the Lycan forces and asked for a parlay to negotiate a truce.”

“Did it work out well?” Jason asked. “Can’t imagine werewolves and vampires sitting peacefully in a room together. Sounds like a recipe for complete disaster.”

“In any other case, I’d agree, but you’d be surprised how calm people can get when peace is on the table,” she remarked. “I was the strongest on the council and my word carried the most authority, so myself and my most trusted confidants met with the most authoritative Lycan leaders for an entire month and on the night of the final day, we reached an agreement.”

“You weren’t worried you’d be outvoted by anyone?”

(Y/N) grinned, showing her pointed canines. “Oh no, darling. Me and the others made enough to outvote their opposition. But I digress, the agreement stated that all forces were to cease fighting when the sun rose on the first day of the new month and return to their respective colony or coven immediately. Our leaders would designate territories for both species and the other wasn’t allowed to enter unless given express consent.”

Her ember eyes followed the knife he wielded. “If a vampire killed a werewolf, the offended party was given custody of the perpetrator to do with as they wished and vice versa. Any crime against another was to be investigated and handled by elite members of the species, and punishment only carried out when acknowledged and allowed by the Council or Alliance.”

She sighed. “It took an entire month to draw out the truce and even longer to enforce it to the point that we could all take a breath and not dread war. But it worked, and we’ve had relative peace for a few millennia.”

Jason scraped the chopped carrots into a bowl. “How are your territories designated?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Fairly easily actually. Werewolves prefer warmer climates and vampires prefer cooler ones, so southern states and countries were typically handed over to the Lycan Alliance while the Vampiric Council took control of the north.”

He snorted. “So, what, the closer I get to the equator, the more werewolves I’ll find?”

“Pretty much.” She smiled. “Most northern and eastern states here in the U.S. are vampire-controlled territory. The south and Midwest are typically werewolf territory.” (Y/N) tipped her head side to side. “That being said, there are some cases in which Lycan colonies will reside in vampire control and the other way around too.”

“What cases are those?” he questioned, quickly chopping some tomatoes.

“On average, most native tribes are werewolf packs, though there are some tribes that are vampiric. The Mohawk tribe has been known to have a few of my kind here and there.” She reached over and plucked a cherry tomato from another bowl. “Since some native tribes still reside on their original lands, we share the territory with them.”

“Oh, so like in Twilight?”

“Yes, but also no, and please don’t ever mention that abomination again,” she scowled, and he chuckled.

“Yes ma’am.” Jason smiled, then seeming to think about something, his hands stilled.

(Y/N) caught it instantly. “Is something wrong?”

“Can I ask you something personal?” he questioned, gazing at her seriously and she nodded.

“Of course. Ask me anything.”

He inhaled deeply. “How’d you become a vampire? And why?”

She blinked, evidently not expecting that one, but she recovered and pulled his arm, tugging him away from the counter. They wandered into the living room and Jason collapsed onto one end of the loveseat, (Y/N) at the other. Resting her feet in his lap, she smiled when he started massaging them.

“This was back when I was still in my dimension and human, but vampires had become bolder and started attacking cities. They were looking for something, but no one knew what it was. All we knew was that there were attacks night after night and no sign of it ending.”

Her head tipped back onto the arm. “I was approached by a vampire hunter who wanted me to join the Dawnguard, an order of vampire hunters who were looking into the growing threat. I agreed and met up at the fort where the leader, a man named Isran, told me to go to a location called Dimhollow Crypt and investigate why the vampires seemed particularly interested in the tomb.”

Jason dug his thumbs into the bottoms of her feet. “What did you find?”

“A bunch of dead Vigilants of Stendarr and a whole lotta vampires,” she deadpanned, and his brows furrowed.

“What’re Vigilants of Stendarr?”

“Holy hunters of the Divine God Stendarr,” (Y/N) answered. “They root out evil and daedra where they find it.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “A bunch of pretentious assholes if you ask me.”

Shaking her head, she continued, “So I snuck through the crypt and eventually found this…pillar with a bunch of unlit braziers around it. My dumbass put my hand on the pillar and got impaled by a spike, but my blood broke whatever magic seal and lit the braziers.” She took a breath. “After I got slid them in order, the floor moved, and an ancient sarcophagus was revealed.”

“And you found a mummy?” he quizzed with a grin.

“Actually, I found a vampire,” (Y/N) retorted with a smirk. “And Divines know how long Serana had been down there, but I helped her out of the crypt and back to her home off the coast of one of the capital. There, I met her father, the leader of the coven, Lord Harkon. He wanted to repay me for returning Serana, so he offered his blood—the chance to become a Vampire Lord like him.”

Jason rubbed her ankles. “What made you accept?”

She glanced at him. “He did show me the form of the Vampire Lord and…I was a greedy, power-hungry young woman then,” she admitted somewhat shamefully. “The thought of being able to bend humans into submission by swaying minds and having all that power… spoke to something dark inside me.”

(Y/N) cleared her throat. “I accepted, though it didn’t take long for my heart to change. I got less concerned with power and more concerned with security and ensuring our kind in the castle were safe.”

His hands stopped moving and she looked at him. “What is it?”

“You said you were greedy and power-hungry, but the woman before me hates any form of control, especially the Council.” Jason’s brows furrowed. “If you were as cruel and dark as you said, what changed you mind?” He seemed to remember something. “Did it have to do with your refusal to consume human blood?”

She bared her teeth in a growl, though it was more herself than him. “Divines, I forgot how fast you pick things apart.” (Y/N) sighed heavily and looked away. “…Harkon used to have humans in a dungeon beneath the castle. He called them…cattle. At first, I didn’t mind, but the thing about feeding is that you receive human emotions and memories.”

Her eyes got a faraway look. “It got to the point where I couldn’t bear feeding on them because all I could feel was their despair and agony.” She could feel his hands squeezing her heels. “I went to see an old friend and relayed my problems and he reminded me of something he’d told me a few years before…”

“What did he say?” Jason murmured and (Y/N) turned her attention back to him.

“He said, ‘I once told you when you came to question my death, What is better: to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?’ I feel as though now it is your time to look inside and choose.” she paused. “I swore an oath there that I would never again consume the blood of a human. I would overcome my desires and nature and I would do it every day as long as I breathed.”

(Y/N) stared at him. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of what he told me. I repeat the mantra every day. I live by it.”

Jason merely gazed at her for a moment, then he offered her a small smile. “You’re a strong woman, doll. Stronger than anyone I know.”

She huffed a laugh. “Thank you, Jason, though my strength is nothing compared to some of those heroes on the news.”

He chuckled and shifted her legs apart as he moved up her body. Jason rested comfortably atop her and she threaded on of her hands in his silky hair, scratching her long nails against his scalp.

“Nah, you’re the strongest of them all,” he said, pecking her forehead.

(Y/N) smiled widely. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Jason replied, leaning down to kiss her lips, and a shrill ringtone made them both jump. He gave a flustered laugh and reached down his pocket, pulling out his smartphone. “Sorry, thought I had it on silent.”

She giggled. “It’s quite alright, Jason.”

He grinned at her and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Even if she weren’t next to the phone, she could still hear the conversation, her hearing was exceptional even amongst her species.

Jason! Finally! I’ve been calling you like all day!

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I wasn’t answering.”

“Who is it?” she mouthed.

“Dick,” he replied.

What was that?

“Nothing, I was just—”

OH MY GOD! ARE YOU WITH SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?

“No, Dickhead, I’m not.”

IT’S THE GIRLFRIEND, ISN’T IT, LITTLE-WING!

“Little-wing?” (Y/N) snorted and Jason pinched her hip.

“What do you want, Dick?”

Well, now that I know you’re with your girlfriend, can I talk to her?

“No,” Jason scowled, and she held out her hand with that look and he sighed. “Fine, here she is.”

(Y/N) smiled as she heard Dick squeal on the other end. “Hello? Dick?”

Yes! Hi! That’s me! Little-wing’s older brother!

“I know you are,” she replied. “I’m (Y/N), Jason’s girlfriend.”

See, we knew he had one. He’s always rushing around the manor like he’s late for dinner.

She smirked and cocked a brow, looking straight at Jason. “Oh, he is, is he?”

“What’s he saying?” Jason asked and she quickly brought one of her legs up and pushed against his chest, shoving him back to the other side so he couldn’t grab the phone.

“Tell me, does he ever talk about me?”

Oh, never. See he’s super tight lipped.

“Jason doesn’t talk about me?” (Y/N) pouted. “Jay, darling, I’m hurt.”

He tried shoving her leg out of the way, but she didn’t budge. “(Y/N), gimme the phone.”

I know the best way to remedy that, (Y/N)! You should come over to the manor tonight for dinner and we can absolutely humiliate him for you!

Her lips split evilly. “Tonight, for dinner? And here Jason was making some of his famous beef stir fry for me.” She shrugged. “Oh well, I guess there’s always tomorrow.”

So, you’ll come?

“We’ll be there,” she quipped, winking at a scowling Jason.

Oh my god! GUYS, JASON HAS A GIRLFRIEND AND SHE’S COMING OVER TONIGHT! OH, CRAP ALFRED, WE’RE HAVING A DIN—

Jason yanked the phone from her and hit end call, then leveled her with the darkest glare she’d seen him give—and she loved every second of it, smirking right back. “Why would you do that?” he questioned lowly, and she raised her foot, toeing the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling,” she replied innocently.

Jason grunted low in his throat and grabbed her foot, sliding his hand up her leg. He got to her upper thigh and curled his hand underneath her, bending her knee up to lay across the back of the couch. Her other leg, practically on its own accord, shifted outwards, allowing him space to lay between her hips and (Y/N) couldn’t help but inhale sharply when he peered up at her, teal eyes narrowed and searching for something in her expression.

“Now we have to go suffer through dinner with my family, (Y/N),” he murmured, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh where her shorts had ridden up.

“It’s only for a few hours,” she huffed, ignoring the urge to thread her fingers in his hair and tug him closer where she wanted him. Jason groaned against her thigh and she shivered as the vibrations sparked deep beneath her skin. She whined lowly and he shifted to her other thigh, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh. (Y/N) cursed as he sucked a bruise into her skin, laving the sting with his tongue before dragging it closer to her center.

“Jason,” she gasped, feeling his fingers starting to slide under her shorts, and then he was pulling away, from her body and from the loveseat to stand before her. (Y/N) didn’t know what to do as she stared up at the rather smug looking Jason, one leg cocked up over the couch, the other haphazardly resting on the floor.

“Knowing Alfred, he’ll want us there by six, so we should get ready to go,” he stated before sauntering off towards the bathroom.

She lay there for a moment, heart beating wildly in her chest, then the annoyance flashed across her face and she shouted angrily, but more flustered than anything, “You are such a teasing bastard!” All she heard was a bark of laughter.

[pourcap]

thoughts: cp chapter 10

ok everything about this is really sketchy

Laurent was on the reclining couch, his feet tucked up under him in a relaxed, boyish posture. (…) Laurent wore only pants and a white shirt, the material so fine it did not require embroidery to declaim its expense. nothing about that sounds like laurent was expecting anyone. least of all damen

(…) it was perfectly clear from the first moment that he looked up that Laurent was not expecting company. And that Laurent did not recognise the guards either. yup. shit.

Laurent knew what was happening. Damen, who had seen the long, empty corridor, dark and quiet and absent of men, knew also. where are laurent’s guards!!!

damen being so capable and just knocking out one armed man after the other is really attractive

oh??? so laurent knows how to fight??? (i mean, he’s probably had lessons since he’s a prince and needs to be able to fight to defend himself or his country but i think it’s probably good for damen to see laurent can hold his own using more than “just” manipulation)

Laurent lifted the serrated knife, and, calmly as a butcher, sliced open the man’s bearded throat. doesn’t he have any questions?? like, why were they trying to kill the crown prince of vere??

(…) he was surprised to encounter a moment of muscled resistance. He applied greater pressure. He felt the resistance in Laurent’s body pushed to its limit, though he was still far from his own. i actually have no words for this. i just like that laurent is stronger than damen expected but also that damen, all calm and confident, is well aware of how strong he himself is

‘I’m not surprised you’ve driven three men to try and kill you, I’m only surprised there weren’t more,’ said Damen, bluntly. hhhhhhh

'Cooperate?’ said Damen, with complete disgust. ‘You were unarmed.’ (…) He disliked the idea that anyone at all believed him capable of cutting down an unarmed man, four on one. Even if that man was Laurent. that’s why he helped laurent?? bc he didn’t like the way laurent would be killed??? oh wow.

'In my part of the fight the men were not helpfully killing each other,’ Laurent said. laurent keeps making me smile :(

ohhhhh that’s why they brought damen to laurent’s rooms. that sounds… very well thought out? like, laurent’s level of cunning.

'I assume I am to drag these three derelicts out myself?’ stop making me laugh @ laurent

laurent was poisoned???

i love how righteous damen gets about murder

'I am aware of the effect of the drug,’ Laurent said, in a voice like cut glass. Damen looked at Laurent with new eyes. (…) He had sampled it himself, once, as a curious sixteen year old. so, it’s an akielon aphrodisiac? god. but also, if damen tried it at 16, then that means that it’s easily accessible. but what need would laurent have for a drug like that when not a single person in vere seems to know if he’s ever even been with anyone? and the way laurent’s voice sounds ('like cut glass’) hints at whatever experience he had with that drug, it wasn’t a good one. i have no idea what any of that means but i feel like it means a lot?

'You flayed the skin from my back. I have seen you do nothing but cheat and lie to every person you’ve encountered. You use anything and anyone to further your own ends. You are the last person I would ever trust.’ he’s not wrong, is he? laurent did do all of those things. i just don’t know if it’s truly to further his own ends or if there’s more to it because there has to be, right? for laurent and him to end up together, there has to be more to laurent’s behavior.

But Laurent’s only reply was a breath of laughter, which strangely showed more than anything else how close to the edge he was. hmm. so, laurent probably disagrees with what damen said? or he agrees, but he either doesn’t want to explain his motives, or doesn’t know how to explain them? or maybe he feels defeated? i don’t knowwww.

nooooo damen don’t go :((((

okay so re: the attempt on laurent's life: i have a theory. idk if it's right or not but it can't have been just some random guards' idea to try to frame damen for laurent's murder and there probably isn't anyone in vere who wants to get rid of laurent more than his uncle. idk if it's bc of nicaise or the throne or whatever, but who else would it be? the regent seems to be the main antagonist, right?

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :) 

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends. 

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier. 

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier. 

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off. 

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go. 

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach. 

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure. 

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.” 

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.” 

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side. 

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated. 

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?” 

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip. 

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?” 

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.” 

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].” 

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously. 

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape. 

[two-sides-halved]

The butterfly sitting on his head in camouflage had feed off more of the negativity brewing in his mind, and as well as Eris' due to their fusion. He was quiet and kept to himself, and focused on Blueberry Pie. "Hey... are you doing ok?... can you give us a hint of what's going on?" Blueberry Pie jumped a bit and took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. "bad stuff, very bad things, it was an accident... we didn't mean it, honestly... we panicked, it was a rush... it all happened so fast. it was like one moment we were someone entirely new and then next it happened... i think i blocked it out and just told him to not worry about it and tell you when it was the right time... but I don't think the right time ever came and then he forgot which means I forgot... oh god does that make me a monster.... am I a monStERrr??"

Human Steven rubbed his back, scooping up his small form into his arms. "Shhh shhh, you're not a bad person for forgetting something bad that happened... most people would rather forget bad things that happened so it doesn't bother them... you're not a monster."

The memory continued with Peridot shakily trying to get the duo back on focusing on Jasper.

"Um… Amethyst…. Steeven…" Peridot muttered to get their attention. "Regardless you should have come to get me… You might have Rose's gem but you're still like a little dorky brother to me… and I'd hate it if you went through all that and got hurt because of my messed up stuff man." "Well… if you wanna tag in… go ahead I need a moment to catch my breath." Gem Steven replied, before Gem Steven summoned a spiked shield, and pushed Jasper away from the three of them back toward the corrupted gem in the make shift cage.

Amethyst stretched out and got ready for a fight. The fight went on well enough for Amethyst until Jasper had gotten the upper hand again. Spouting things about how even the corrupted freaks she were collecting put up more of an interesting fight than the one this sad display of a quartz runt could muster. Amethyst kept getting knocked around but kept getting up like a glutton for punishment, only to get knocked back down again.

Gem Steven was fueled with a renewed source of energy to protect his family, sick and tired of waiting for Amethyst to tag her in and started throwing shield after shield at Jasper. He was growling, his teeth shifting to be bigger from his rage. He was getting irritated as she was simply smacking away every shield he tossed at her. He growled then saw an injector above and aimed a serrated shield at the injector above the both of them.

Gem Steven summoned a bag of raw sunflower seeds and coated them in spit before spitting them at the dirt rapid fire at Jasper's feet, before shapeshifting his arm and grabbing Amethyst backward before the injector fell between the three of them, then commanded the sunflowers to grow and Jasper was tangled in the fauna.

"damn it... damn it... damn it... DAMN IT!!" Amethyst grunted punching the ground. "... Amethyst..." "Steven.... I can't win..." The frustrated tears dripped to the ground as she slammed her fists in the Earth as if she was trying to get back at it for making her this way.

"Amethyst..." Gem Steven struggling to keep Jasper in place. "This is what happened last time on the beach... I tried to keep someone i cared about safe, got my ass handed to me over and over and had to be saved again... no matter how hard I work, no matter how hard I try... she came out right... and I came out wrong... she's everything I could have been but I'm not... I'm a runt, a mis--"

"Amethyst, shut the fuck up!!"

Gem Steven yelled, stomping his bare foot as he walked in front of her and pulled her up to her feet, leading to Peridot and Amethyst looking up at him in shock, while Jasper paused in her struggling momentarily.

"Dude." "NO! Don't "dude" me... I have been listening to you, bitch and complain about everything that was a minor inconvenience or Jasper related for the past fucking two weeks!!" Gem Steven took a deep breath, the sclera of his eyes turning pitch black while his iris' turned into diamonds that glowed purple.

"Today was supposed to just be a day to chill and play videogames and have a fucking break from the Jasper shit, damn it! Look I know you're upset, and I'm sorry that you feel all bent out of shape... over a couple fights with this freak... I know, you're hurting hearing Jasper spew Homeworld's shittiest fucking mid-takes on how you should look or be or anything... and I know what it feels like to not live up to a fucking world of expectations that you feel like you're already failing just because you thrusted into them, without consent because you were never asked to be made..." Gem Steven's eyes brimmed with tears before he evaporated them before they could leave his cheeks. Amethyst gasped in shock at seeing his eyes before he took a deep calming breath and opened them to see they were back to normal again.

"That's just what Jasper thinks... and we know her track record with good decisions so instead of listening to that hot garbage barge of a Quartz solder, I want you to listen to me. You've been trying to be like Jasper,... but you're nothing like Jasper... You're like Me, because we're both not like anybody else!!... neither of us are perfect, and that's good... because that means we can always get better... and Jasper can always knocked down off her high horse." "We might not be perfect..." "But that doesn't mean we can't be better together."

Amethyst sniffled, before she saw Jasper come rushing at the three of them and then hugged into Gem Steven, their forms glowing and intertwining before the bright light formed a pair of fists that punched Jasper away from them flipping her several times in the air, making her hit into the cage, making the Quartz groan as she was discombobulated from the spinning briefly, before she saw the bright light, seeing the circular gems from behind through the bright white light as the fusion started to take a complete form.

Continued | @erisdiamas

The visage nodded, "Fair... granted he is torn up about his interaction with Cherry, we could probably check today's early memories but considering how everything is going at the moment, it's probably gonna take a while to actually find him so the more we linger the worse its gonna get when we actually get to him."

"Yea... mmm, let's go this way." Human Steven replied pushing open a new walk way in through a decaying wall, and turned to Eris, and gently pulled her away from the inky pools in a protective manor as if she were an infant about to stick a fork into a light socket. "Eris, let's just stay away from the inky black goo please... I don't want you to get pulled down too."

Classic Steven looked over between them, seeing no change and letting out a soft sigh as he watched on to make sure no one would interrupt what was going on between them, worried about how everything was going.

[tennessoui]

29 G.A.t.W. AU - The C.W.s start 2yrs early bc of Galactic Law EVERY Natborn in the GAR MUST be 18yr old. Obi-Wan is forced to leave behind his young Padawan. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.. Without the Masters being able to be there physically they have to start training programs to help the Pawadans. Every Master now has to teach certain subjects. Anakin finally sees a mind healer & finds inner peaces without the Council breathing down his neck. The Temple Locked Down so No Sith Influenc

so this is a beautiful ask and beautiful future and i followed it like i follow my google maps directions which means maybe 30% of the way but i was watching lord of the rings and thinkin about braids so here is this and i'm very sorry it's what it is

29. Going Away To War AU (Tatooine slave culture, 17!Anakin, preslash/Anakin's pining, mullet!Obi-Wan)(2.3k)

The Padawan braid isn’t the first braid Anakin learns about. It’s not even the fiftieth. By the time Qui-Gon Jinn, Queen Amidala, and Obi-Wan Kenobi land on Tatooine, Anakin is well-versed in the language of braids and what each means. He hadn’t had any of his own yet, seeing as how he was only nine with no accomplishments or triumphs or romantic entanglements to advertise, but if he had stayed on Tatooine, he’d probably have gotten his first braid after he won the podrace.

HIs mother would have done it with gentle hands and a proud smile, and their neighbors would have gathered outside their door to try and be the first one to congratulate him.

Braids are important. They’re sacred. Their style and the beads woven through the strands signify everything important to know about the Tatooinian wearing them. He’d see the freed people’s braids in the marketplace and burn with envy. He’d see a blushing girl braid her lover’s obsidian into his hair to signify courtship, and know one day he’d do the same to someone else. He’d practice his braids until his hands hurt from the motion, wanting to be perfect at it before he’d need to know. After all, as a slave, there wouldn’t be much else he could offer them except beautiful braids and beads.

There is only one braid he doesn’t know the meaning of, and it’s the one that hung down Obi-Wan Kenobi’s shoulder when they first met.

He thinks about asking him, even though it might be considered rude, but before he can, they’re at the Jedi Temple, then on Naboo and then Master Jinn is dead and Obi-Wan’s braid is gone, and Anakin thinks, oh. So the braid means love.

Mourners on Tatooine cut the braids off their dead and then a single braid from their own head, to mean that a part of themselves has died as well. Obi-Wan tries to be extra nice to Obi-Wan after that.

That is, until the man approaches Anakin with a serrated knife and a rueful grin and tells him that because the Council has allowed him to take him as his padawan, it’s time for Anakin to have the Padawan haircut.

The fit Anakin throws at these words could probably be heard back on Tatooine, but his new master must be made of the same strength Lukka crafts the sandstorms from, because an hour later, Anakin is looking at his shorn locks on the floor in a state of horrified shock.

Obi-Wan kneels down at his side as he begins braiding together the lone strand of hair Anakin has been allowed to keep.

“I’m sorry,” his master says quietly. “I know that your hair is very important to you on Tatooine.”

“How will I practice my braids now?” Anakin asks despondently. If he is to have short hair until he’s Obi-Wan’s age (ancient), then he won’t ever be able to practice the courtship braids. The engagement braids. The marriage braids. All the other ones too. Do the Jedi just present their beloveds with sloppy braids?

The thought has him near tears.

Obi-Wan looks very panicked. “Please don’t cry,” he begs. “Jedi apprentices shouldn’t cry.”

Anakin’s vision becomes even more blurred at this. Now he’ll never be able to practice his braids and he’s a bad Jedi.

“Oh blast, that’s not what I meant,” Obi-Wan backtracks, hesitantly putting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. It’s not very comforting, but it’s the best Anakin has so he resolves to make do and lean into the touch. “Well. You can, uh. You can braid my hair?”

Anakin sniffles. “Your hair is short. And ugly.”

His master laughs and ruffles Anakin’s own short hair. “I’ll grow it out, just for you if it’s that important to you.”

He would? Anakin looks up at him hopefully. That could work. It even makes sense, kind of, for Obi-Wan to let Anakin braid his hair. After all, Anakin’s going to be wearing Obi-Wan’s braid, even though he doesn’t love him yet.

Maybe the Jedi do things differently. Maybe the Jedi weave the braid, and the love comes later.

---

“I remember a young boy telling me my hair was ugly,” his master says consideringly, as he lets himself be pushed to the floor while Anakin clambers onto the bed behind him.

“You bring that up every time, Master,” he sighs as he strokes his hands through Obi-Wan’s admittedly beautiful mane of hair. It’s not as long as he’d like, not really, but it doesn at least go down to his shoulders. “I don’t know how many times you want me to apologize.”

“Oh, just once more,” his master smiles with his voice. Anakin will miss this. Anakin doesn’t know how he’ll live without it, without Obi-Wan’s quiet wit and wry humor, his willingness to indulge Anakin no, even if it’s been eight years of braid-practicing.

“Once more might be all we have time for, Master,” Anakin whispers. His fears are not the sort one can say loudly.

“Do not think like that,” Obi-Wan turns his head to the side just enough so that he can look up at Anakin. “It will be fine. I will be fine.” “You’d be better if I came with you!” Anakin argues loudly. “You know I’m old enough! It’s not fair!”

His voice cracks on the last word, making him wince as Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

“The Jedi Council and all Republic legal branches have spoken. We will not take children into a warzone--”

“Then don’t, but I’m almost eightee--”

“--And I agree with them.”

Anakin’s fingers slacken on the strands of hair, loosening the braid. “You do?” he asks, feeling betrayed. “You want to leave me here at the Temple while you go get yourself killed on some Mid-Rim planet?”

“I want you safe, Padawan,” Obi-Wan corrects, breaking away from him so that he may stand up and sit beside him on the bed. “A war is no place for Jedi, but while us knights have no choice but to fight, we would keep our younglings as far from it as possible--even those younglings who are only a few months shy of being eighteen.”

“You’re taking away my choice,” Anakin says quietly, anger abating enough that he has to struggle to hide the fear in his voice. He brings his knees up against his chest and curls tightly into himself. “What if you die and--and--” he breaks off and pulls useless at his Padawan braid.

He knows what it means now after eight years spent at the Jedi Temple. It’s supposed to denote the Padawan from the Master, and signify the respect an apprentice has for their teacher.

But he’s never been able to shake his original conclusion that it was a representation of love, though he’d never say that aloud.

But when he touches it, sees it in the mirror, he’s reminded only of the love he bears for his master. A guilty, shameful love that takes up too much of his mind and heart. He’d fallen in love with Obi-Wan somehow. Now when Anakin dreams of marriage beads, his fingers are invariably braiding them into coppery blond hair. Now when Anakin dreams of--well, other things, it’s always Obi-Wan’s body beneath his, over his, inside of his, around his--

And now the galaxy is at war, the Knights and Masters of the Jedi Temple called to defend the Republic, and Anakin is too young to follow his master.

“And what, dear one?” Obi-Wan asks gently, hand coming up to unclasp Anakin’s fingers from his braid. “If I die, you will let me go as any Jedi would. I will become one with the Force and you will continue forward.”

Anakin almost wants to shake his shoulders. Doesn’t his master know anything about Anakin at all? How could Obi-Wan say these things as if he believes them? If Obi-Wan were to die--if he were to die away from Anakin, without Anakin--if the unthinkable were to happen--Anakin doesn’t know what he’d do.

A part of himself would die as well, he knows that immediately. He’d cut Obi-Wan’s braid from his hair so that the man could be buried with it, and he’d never weave another.

“Have faith in me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan tells him softly, hand falling to rest on his shoulders. “I will come back. Or perhaps in a few months you will join me.” He sounds falsely enthusiastic, like he’d do anything to keep Anakin away from the war.

As if Anakin would let that happen as soon as he’s legally able to fight.

“Will you let me braid your hair?” he whispers, slowly sitting cross-legged.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says immediately, sinking back to the floor.

“Will you keep them in this time? For as long as you can?” Anakin asks, shily, running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair slowly, savoring the softness of the strands.

“I will do my best,” his master promises him. “What will they mean?”

“Good fortune,” Anakin replies, seeing the braid come together in his mind’s eye. Yes, good fortune, a plea to the gods who see Obi-Wan in battle to look the other way. To take someone else instead. He gets to work, collecting a chunk of hair on the left side of Obi-Wan’s temple to braid back.

Nothing’s fixed. Nothing’s better. The person Anakin’s pretty sure is the love of his life will be sent out to fight tomorrow at dawn, and he might die never knowing how Anakin feels about him.

But it’s not like Anakin can tell him either, not when he’s seventeen. Not when he’s Obi-Wan’s Padawan.

He’s always planned to wait until after he’s been Knighted, after Obi-Wan has been given enough time to see Anakin as a man who has a choice whether or not to love him. And, yes, the Code forbids attachment and Jedi cannot marry, but it’s not like Anakin would ever be able to marry Obi-Wan legally even on Tatooine.

But he could give him the braids, if Obi-Wan wanted. That way, when they both died, in their sleep of natural causes, the Goddess Leia knows to keep their souls intertwined as she transports them to their afterlife.

Anakin’s fingers pause as he thinks of something that would make him feel better.

He bites his lip. His mother would disapprove. To give the braids to someone without their knowledge is heavily frowned upon.

Anakin winces, even as his hands change direction. These are extenuating circumstances. There’s a lot at stake here. Anakin can’t risk a life and an afterlife without his master. And he’s going to ask him eventually. Just not now. Just not yet.

The braids for good fortune form a crown over one’s head. The braids for marriage…

They start similarly enough at the temples, but connect to each other at the back of the head, where a third braid is begun. Then each braid is braided into each other. The left braid represents the braider. The right braid represents their beloved. The third braid that begins when the two meet represents the life that they will create together.

Anakin holds the three braids loosely in his hands, staring down at them in some sort of surreal shock. This is not the circumstances he has imagined doing this under, but he’s heartbroken. Not when it’s Obi-Wan who will be wearing his braids.

“Dear one?” Obi-Wan asks, breaking the heavy silence. “I do not mean to rush you, but my knees are starting to hurt.”

“You’re so old,” Anakin quips back, stroking a thumb over one of the braids, the right one--Obi-Wan’s.

“And you are so very young,” Obi-Wan retorts. “The two of us together is the equivalent of one good soldier.”

Anakin’s heart pauses for a second. “Would you want that?” he asks nonsensically.

“What?”

“If you could choose. If I were eighteen. Would you want to be…” Just as suddenly as he gained that sudden burst of confidence, he loses it. He sighs, mostly in disappointment at himself.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan prompts.

“You’d want me there with you if I weren’t too young, wouldn’t you, master?” Anakin finally says.

Obi-Wan hesitates, and Anakin’s chest feels tight. “I would want you safe, regardless of age, dear one,” he settles on saying.

Anakin’s fingers clench down on the almost complete marriage braids. “But if there were no war,” he forges ahead. “If the war never happened. You wouldn’t want to leave me behind. You’d want to stay together.”

Anakin can just imagine the furrowed eyebrows Obi-Wan must be sporting as he tries to figure out what Anakin wants from him.

“Just answer the question,” Anakin begs, tightening his hold on the braids to prevent Obi-Wan from turning around.

“You are my Padawan, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says slowly. “And someone who will one day be my partner, my friend. I would like...very much to be allowed to see you finish growing into the fine man you will be. The one that in many ways you already are.”

“And then?” Anakin asks doggedly. “When we’re both knights. And you’re assigned...a mission. And you get to choose your partner. And it’s me or. Or someone else. I don’t care. Who would you choose?”

“Well, I suppose it would depend on if this fabricated mission depends on stealth. Secrecy. The ability to tell a believable falsehoo--”

“I’m being serious,” Anakin insists, cutting his master off. He almost wants to drop the braids, let them fall apart. Clearly Obi-Wan doesn’t...perhaps won’t ever--

“It’d be you,” Obi-Wan murmurs very quietly, as if afraid to speak louder. “We are better together than we are separate.”

Anakin blinks and then smiles, only a little teary-eyed at his master’s confession. “Yes, Master,” he agrees, finally--finally--braiding the three braids together and tying them off neatly. He pictures the material of their souls responding the same way that Obi-Wan’s hair has. The thought makes him feel equal parts giddy and guilty.

“After all, someone needs to make sure you don’t crash every ship in the Jedi Temple,” Obi-Wan continues dryly.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agrees again, running a hand lightly over his work.

He’ll tell him when he’s a Knight. Really.

[lovevalley45]

#fictober22 day twenty-two

"Who said this was a good idea?"

original fiction

word count: 662

warnings: blood

Experimentation was going well so far. 

Well. Josie didn’t like it when she called it experimentation, so finding proof it was. 

Rhiannon knew far too well that proof, evidence, whatever you liked to call it, was key. She’d dismissed any of Josie’s claims of cryptid and mythical creatures ever since they’d met when they agreed to become roommates. But, well, it was hard to deny something when it was right in front of her. 

She had to admit, it had shaken her world a little. But she supposed if anyone was going to shake her world, she was glad it was Josie. 

“Exper- Test #4,” Rhiannon said into her phone as she walked into the kitchen. She set it down as she approached the knife block. “Regeneration.”

“Or, super-healing!” Josie shouted from the living room.

“Also known as super-healing.”

She withdrew the knife she usually used for chopping vegetables - a good size, something she was used to using, not serrated. But perhaps it was too big. Instead, she put it back and went for the paring knife - small, dexterous, but still effective. “We will be testing how Josie heals from a small cut with this non-silvered paring knife. Because silver knives are not in our funding.”

Rhiannon turned back to see that Josie had taken her shirt off as she deliberated, leaving her in just her sports bra and a pair of cotton shorts. When she caught her staring, she said, “What? I don’t wanna have to wash blood out of my shirt. Besides, easy access.”

“I’m not going to stab you in the gut, Josie,” she said, grabbing her phone again. She placed it on the coffee table, not too far from where she’d made herself comfortable on one of the IKEA chairs from their table. A first-aid kit sat waiting, just in case.

Josie glanced over at the knife in her hand, shrinking a little in her seat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” “Who said this was a good idea?” Rhiannon asked. 

She let out a nervous chuckle. “Not very reassuring, Rhi. I can see why you didn’t go to medical school.”

“You flatter me,” she said. She looked over Josie, trying to find the best spot - AKA, what wouldn’t possibly kill her due to blood loss if she couldn’t regenerate. She ruled out anything near her chest for obvious reasons, though that didn’t mean she didn’t peak a professional glance just in case. The stomach was a possible candidate - there was enough natural cushioning there that she would probably be safe to not get near any internal organs, but not safe enough. Finally, she settled on her arm. “Okay, give me your wrist.”

Josie squeezed her eyes shut, but she obliged. Rhiannon had to steel herself, too, but she held the knife with a steady hand and tried to avoid any veins. She made a cut, blood starting to well up to the surface. 

“Did that hurt too much?” Rhiannon asked, looking up as she cracked an eye open. 

“No,” Josie admitted. “I mean it hurt, but I guess my pain tolerance must be stronger.”

“Increased pain tolerance. Interesting.”

“Oh my God, Rhi, look!”

Rhiannon looked down. The cut had, in fact, started to close up, leaving only droplets of blood where it had been. It was a miracle. It was impossible. 

“No scabbing, no scarring, no anything,” she muttered. 

Josie let out a melodramatic sigh, letting her wrist drop from Rhiannon’s hand as she slumped back in the chair. “Thank God. That would have been weird to explain to the doctor.” She leaned forward, putting on a nasally voice. “So, uh, you were playing around with knives?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she went back to the kitchen, grabbing a towel to wipe the blood off the knife. “Definitely would have been a little suspicious.”

“So, when are we ordering that silver knife?” Josie asked. 

“After we pay rent,” Rhiannon answered. 

Josie groaned. “Great.”