#( a vampire and a demon what could go wrong! ...everything probably )

[pursuitseternal]

“You had better tie me up, darling…” very nsfw (f*ck or die) update for Rogue Astarion in part 7 “Bites in the Night”

Astarion x F!Reader |E| 5.5K F*ck or Die Smut

Summary: He isn’t well… something he’s consumed… the blood of a Succubus in the heat of battle by mistake. He needs release… help… or else undead won’t be an accurate description of your vampire rogue any longer.

CW: rough sex, bondage, Sex Pollen Trope but blame those Succubi, feral rutting, blood kink (does that go without saying yet?), implied shared infection, tongue bath, raunchy and yet sweet confessions from his undead lips.

Read on AO3 | Series on AO3 | Master List

Better get your rope…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sunset always brought the demons out to play… and this time it had been real. Everything about the Shadow Cursed Lands fit the name… but you had all made it at last to the Last Light Inn.

Not without blood spatter and slaughter, fear and relief once victory over the Hellspawn was won.

Now at last, you can take your rest. In peace.

Most of your companions still drink and eat to their heart’s content. Of course, not your Rogue. After the fight, he had looked… gaunt. Tired. You had promised to come and let him feed, but first you needed your fill. He had flashed his smile at you before heading up the creaking stairs.

That was an hour ago. Now, you make your way to those same stairs, only to catch Shadowheart hustling down with wide eyes, Gale looking much the same as he follows.

“Come with us,” they whisper, leading you up the stairs in a hurry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety darking your tone.

“It’s Astarion, he’s… unwell.” Gale… always so vague and polite.

“He’s in a rut,” Shadowheart snips back, exactly. “Literally.”

“What?” you startle.

“During the fight, he must have bitten and drank Succubus blood.” Gale rubs his fingers at his temple. “He’s locked in his room, but I fear he will claw his way through the door until he finds… relief.”

“Sex, you mean?” you can’t help but correct him too.

“It’s bad,” Shadowheart presses her lips together. “The blood is ten times worse than the spittle. Like, if he doesn’t find relief soon he could expire. Again. It’ll last him a full day to work out of his system.”

Your eyes go wide, your stomach sinking as well as your jaw. “Isn’t there some countermeasure? Some spell or… or potion?”

Shadowheart opens her hands, a small scroll in it. “Not for him, but for…”

“Me…” you realize. Your body tingles with the idea, that heady mix of fear of death and thrill of fucking with him. It always swims in your system before you go to his bed, but this time. It feels… more… exhilarating. More deadly. Riskier.

“It’s a scroll of Greater Protection… just in case he gets carried away.” Gale’s face screws into a look of discomfort.

“Keep your cunny from giving out on you.” Shadowheart winks.

That sinches up the knots in your stomach now. And by the time your cleric recites the spell, the dust in the air swirling into your lungs, you know you can’t turn back. You can’t forsake him.

You take a breath once they both wish you good luck, reassurances that the spell should be enough to keep you safe… but that they would come running if needed. That’s when Shadowheart stops you one more time, behind Gale’s back. She makes her face shush you silently as she shoves something into your hands.

A coil of rope. It tingles… enchanted probably for extra strength… that it could hold a deranged, sex-crazed vampire if worse came to worse.

That’s when you head up another flight of stairs, your heart beating faster with each step. Especially as you hear the grunts and growls that crescendo as you reach the landing. It’s easy to tell which room is his, the light under the door burns bright… the sounds of his voice raw and feral…

You hover your hand over the knob, sensing the magic that’s sealed him in. But you stop… that sound inside, you can tell already how he’s plagued. Rough, wet, and fast. The slap of his own hand tending to his… need.

You swallow, the beating of his fist on his cock already making you wet. Hells below… if there wasn't part of you that was just… tantalized. A small part, mostly cloaked in that heady fear to preserve your life.

But you feared no danger. And you by now… he would listen.

Maybe.

One last squeeze of the chord in your hand, you gripped the charged metal of the door, throwing it open.

He is naked, sitting on the edge of the bed at the back of the little room. His teeth glint in the firelight, his ivory skin glowing with sweat. Gods, if he had blood in his body, you are sure he would be beet red. His profile cut like the masterpiece he was. His throat bobbing as he swallows, the muscles of his arm bulging as he pleasures himself at a terrifying pace.

The sound as you shut the door behind him finally draws his attention.

He is… wild. Feral. Eyes so dilated, you can barely make out the ring of scarlet in them. His face shines from his exertions, he growls… like an animal… the second he sets eyes on you. His nose sniffing so hard at your scent… you can watch it open and close.

“Out!” He snarls, rising to his feet. That’s when you take in the full extent of his… suffering. He’s so erect, bigger than you have ever seen him. Harder. Throbbing so hard you witness it… where it stands almost vertically. Those intricate veins that usually rise subtly from his length strain dark, a web over his pale skin. “I’ll not hurt you, darling. Not you. Get out! I won’t have you!” He snaps his jaws. Every muscle in his body straining as he stands in place.

As if he’s fighting with himself.

“You will have me,” you snap back. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Not if you want to keep yourself in this realm. Undead you might be, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive… undead…”

That made him smile. Dark, wicked and still slightly manic. But it was there.

His eyes rake down your body, devouring you as he dares to let himself take one step. His eyes fall to your hand, the tangle of rope hanging visibly at your side. “Seems someone had the wisdom to not to send you in here defenseless and you stink of protective magic. Good,” he shudders as he talks. That voice sounding hollow. Pressed. Barely above a snarl. “I haven’t said this to many… but you had better tie me up, darling…”

He groans, forcing his body to move stiffly to the bed. The wood frame creaks and cracks as he crawls in, his rigid frame laying down.

That erection makes your mouth water, despite the obvious agony your vampire is enduring. But you can’t help but be mesmerized by how tall it stands as he pants on the bed. You cross to him, he can’t look at you, holding his hands out for you to bind.

Your hands work quickly, securing his arms firmly together, wrapping them to the scrollwork of the headboard.

His breathing is rough, ragged. His body twitches, shuddering each time your fingers barely grazie his arms and wrists. “Please,” he groans. “If you’re going to do this, then by the hells do it!”

His eyes are wide as he strains to look at you.

Your body aches, sympathy pains twitch down your spine to watch him quivering on the sheets. Your skin feels hot, your own body breaking into a sweat. He’s licking his lips, “Gods, if you go any slower getting something on this cock of mine, I can’t promise your safety, darling…”

You reach for that straining length, the second you wrap your fingers around it, he throbs and groans and twitches. His hips bucking into your hand, legs propped up so he can fuck anything you can get around his cock. You beat against his thrusts, that hardness unrelenting even as you move quicker than you usually do. Looking into his face, you move even faster, his face contorted in agony, his teeth biting so hard into his lips he’s bleeding.

He thrusts and groans and cries as he comes. Spurts of his seed drip down his shaft, coating his already damp lap, trailing milky streams as far as his belly.

But his breathing eases for a moment, his muscles softening just a bit perceptively. And Astarion gives a single contented sigh. “All that with just your hand. You little minx… pacing yourself?” he purrs. “Won’t you at least kiss me hello?”

You give him a small grin, at least he sounds like himself. His eyes are a bit more focused, his voice a bit more silken.

What harm could one kiss do?

You lay alongside him, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you touch, you can feel it, the heat, the lust, and the agony roaring full force through his veins. He’s straining on his bonds, trying to claw you into him. His mouth consumes you, sucking your lips inside his mouth, drawing them deep enough for him to bite. The tang of blood covers your tongue. And his.

He’s frenzied for more, biting you again and again. Drinking the blood that leaks from your kiss. Then you feel it, his legs, untethered, grip around your waist, sliding you to cover his naked, throbbing body. “Astarion!” you cry, muffled by his mouth. But he has you pinned between his thighs. Not unlike that first day in the wreckage.

His erection presses into your belly, he’s grinding it against the linen of your shirt. Rough and aggressive. As if he means to tear a hole in the soft fabric. He keeps you there, humping and riding into your abdomen. Grinding against your mound. Sucking and drinking your kiss as long as you let him.

Not that you have much of a choice, caught in his legs. “Easy,” you breathe, managing to steal your mouth back for the moment. “Easy…” you soothe again, making your body bear down against where he dry fucks against you.

“There is nothing I have in mind to do to you that would be easy…” he hisses. His voice almost sounds… not of this realm. And you press out of the clutches of his fangs. But he just raises his head higher, eyes crazed at the sight of the wounds he’s made on your bleeding and split lips.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you catch his throat under your palm. “It’s for your own good.” You feel his breath rasp, the ragged swallows of spit under your palm.

“The minx has claws…” he growls as you keep his head down.

“Only when you make me use them, Astarion,” you smirk. “Now, if you can keep your mouth to yourself, I’d be more than happy to put mine to other uses.”

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “It’s unbearable, the lust, the need to drive into you. Please put me out of this agony, darling. Please…”

The second you wrap your lips around that fleshy, pulsing head, his cock twitches out of your reach. With a smile and a lick of your tongue, you grip his straining, iron length, holding it steady as you run from base to bulging tip. The bitter tang of his cum fills your mouth. Making you swallow. Making you realize just how used to it you will be before the day of this torment is through.

You manage to still him enough with his squirming and bucking to get your mouth around him. Gods, it’s like stone in your mouth, every vein dragging over your tongue and you suck. You manage to bob your head up and down, avoiding the way he’s thrusting to get more of him down your throat.

The noises from his throat sound pained… agonized panting for more. “That’s it…” he’s hissing as you swirl your tongue around that ridge of his head. “Gods, do that again.” You do, laughing in your throat as you run your tongue over that seeping slit in his tip… so tight as you lap the stains of his cum. You feel it under your hand that works the base of his cock, that thickening, quickening spasm.

He howls, jamming his length into your pursing lips. And this time, you let him. His seed spills down your throat, spurting over your tongue and dripping in your cheeks. More with every pulse as he slowly begins to still again.

One last suck, you swallow him down. Greedily. Wondering if that succubus magic isn’t somehow in your system too. It’s heady, intoxicating. The way he’s glaring at you with his flame-kissed, glistening sweaty face.

But for now, he’s calmer. For now. “Darling…” he’s sighing as he tries to ease into the bed. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. It’s still such a risk… if I didn’t… care for you… who knows how much of your body would be in one piece when this finally passes.”

“Oh I’m sure I’d leave in one piece… but maybe mostly bloodless and unable to walk straight…” you laugh leaning over him, placing a kiss on his dampened lips.

He slips his tongue in right away, searching for the taste of him in your mouth. He growls again, that throbbing suffering of lust raging beneath his skin again. “I want to see you,” he snarls. “I want to take you naked this time, my pet.” You shiver at the echo of pure desire in his silken voice. As if it doesn’t always drip with seduction. This… you shiver. This was even more wild, unchecked, feral. The need to rut. To fuck.

He looks at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, so dark with his lust, his attraction for you, you feel your own arousal dripping between your thighs. He purrs,“I want to be inside you, darling…”

Your hands couldn’t tug your clothes off fast enough, cursing the practicality of breeches. At last, you stood as he wished. Bared. Ready.

You scramble on the bed, throwing your legs around him. He seems… steadier. Still harder than rock, but less desperate. He strains against his binds, wriggling his lean and wiry body beneath you. So beautiful, every etched line of his muscles, every rise of his stomach, every vein that protrudes in his arms.

You caress him, once on his chest. So damp with sweat. Running your tongue up the center of those muscles, he shivers. The salt of his body makes your mouth water again.

“Hells, are we sure you haven’t ingested the same as me, my sweet?” He croons with a soft little laugh. “Or is this just all for me, darling, to ease my suffering.”

“To keep you alive? I’d do so much more than just lick the sweat from your body,” you taunt back, your voice so low and sultry, you barely recognize it.

He flashes his fangs at you, licking his lips. “Like slipping that sweet cunt on me? Riding me until you are dripping again?”

Ugh… you moan. “Yes,” you pant, “like that.”

The moment he feels your drenched folds hover over his cock, he spears into you. He screams at your union. “Sweet hells,” he groans, voice rasping and sore. “Yes, darling, give me everything. I can take it all…”

You lean over him, your hair cascading down in a curtain as you splay your hands on either side of his head. Barely brushing against his damp, unruly silver locks. You give the smallest rise of your body, the steadiest drag of your walls around his cock. He cants his hips beneath you, timing just right to shove up into your cunt as you settle back down.

A chorus of groans escape you both. He’s sputtering, “Please, darling, again,” over and over. Each time you give him what he wants, only to have him careening up into you harder. Begging for you to go faster.

Soon, your pace is breakneck, your own body shimmering in sweat as you buck and writhe and groan.

His eyes never blinking, those dark black pupils are wide as he watches your face twisting as you chase your own climax, flickering to the swaying of your breasts as they slap together each time you fuck him. They dart to watch where you are joined, where his stiffening cock pierces between your thighs, drenched in his cum and your arousal with every loud, squelching slap you make.

He’s merciless, finally hitching his hips to drive the hardest into you yet. You feel it when he comes inside you now, the sheer volume of his spew, hot and dripping from inside those walls where he’s buried in deep. Your belly aches from where he’s hammering against the end of your channel. More cum with each twitching spurt you feel. He screams like one wounded, his orgasm drawn out as you chase your peak yet. But he’s panting beneath you, catching his breath as he licks his lips.

Even more limp this time.

You’re relieved in your heart, even if your loins ache from the friction, the need to still release your own bliss. His brows furrow, his lips pouting as he looks into your eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you gasp, even as your arms quiver and your thighs shake with the need to continue.

“No,” he squirms and tugs at the tethers. “Infernal rope. If you just let me free, I swear I’ll make it up to you…”

Your mouth waters. He would probably just find a way to break it or chew through that rope if he had to. A smirk plays across your lips, leaning forward to reach your knots. His cock slips out from inside you as you do, making him groan again.

The rope tugs apart in your fingers. Instantly his hands pull free, he shoves you over his face, so close already as you lean forward. He growls, his tongue slipping into your folds. His hands claw into your, gripping at the backs of your knees, spreading you wider as he eats into your cunt with all the hunger you feel raging in his body.

Starving, he feasts on you, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself up, hands splayed on the mattress over his head. That swirl of his tongue… that sucking of his lips on your clit, you already creep closer and closer to that swirl of heat simmering ready to consume you. It sweeps through you, cresting and tearing from your core up your spine.

And then, the world spins. His arms clutch around your legs, throwing you over. You're screaming, still spasming and clenching around nothing. Until your back is sprawled on the bed… until he’s shoved his cock into the last dregs of your orgasm. It makes you whimper his name once more, until you feel another spasm ripping through you.

Only this time, he’s pounding into you, thrust by thrust. Giving you something long and hard and cold splitting you in two as you go limp beneath him. His mouth descends on yours, sucking your breath from your body even as he traps your lips, your tongue with his own.

Manic, driven, he fucks you like one possessed, eyes wide as he finally pins you beneath him. Having his way with you as he chases that required release.

You lay back, still swollen and numb from your pleasure. But he is nowhere near close, not as his hands claw down your side, latching around your legs to make you wrap around his narrow waist. “Gods, you’re so tight, so wet… there have been none like you, darling. None I have wanted as badly as you.” He growls, fingers reaching around the backs of your ass, clamping into your cheeks. He raises you just enough to drag his length all the deeper. Making you keen and mewl and sputter incoherently.

Every nerve in your body hums, every patch of pleasure between your thighs feels him inside you. Gods, if it wasn’t for that scroll, you are certain you would pass out, lying there unconscious while he works this tainted blood from his own body.

By using yours.

By using you.

It makes you smile. Twisted and delighted to be so at his disposal. You were used to his fangs in your neck, his cock plowed into your cunt and his hips clenched between your thighs… but this…

This was intoxicating. Unbridled, unihibited fucking.

For his own sake of course.

That tainted blood and its magic being burned up with each time he filled you to bursting with his seed.

And as if his fixated eyes, hazy with his lust, can read your thoughts, he groans as he thrusts the harshest into you yet. So deep and hard and wild, you wriggle and claw against him as if you could shove him away from where he prods at the end of your cunt. But he only laughs. A laugh swallowed up as he is thrown off by another climax, another spilling of his cum that runs down your body and sticks to your skin. He pants as he looks straight into your face, manic and depraved.

“By the time this is through, your belly will swell from me, won’t it, darling? So filled with my cum, gods, you’ll be leaking for a week. For a fortnight.” He kisses into your neck, your body shivering at the chill of his breath on your skin. “And I’ll have the pleasure of smelling it, of remembering every time you took it so well, darling. I’m so very pleased…”

You look at him, half lidded and panting as he lifts his mouth from your flesh. “As I am…” you hum, running your hands up the ridges of his back, over those mysterious lines of Infernal, to thread your fingers into his damp silver hair.

He purrs as he kisses your lips, a sigh of his satisfaction as he tangles his tongue with yours. You taste yourself still in his mouth. Always so hungry, he is. It makes you wonder… “Aren't you going to beg me to feed, Astarion?”

“Hmm, if the offer is on the table, I’d love nothing more than to sup on… all… that you have to offer…”

He slowly slinks down your body. Your breath quickens, heart racing as he wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs. “Sweet hells, you're going to…”

The lap of his tongue up your seam again unravels you immediately. Your hands fly into his hair, pushing him away and pulling him deeper into your cunt with equal measure. You don’t know which you want more. He’s feeding on you, humming in delighted pleasure as he licks his cum from your folds, his eyes gazing up into your face as you pant and watch. Mesmerized by every dart and swirl of his pink tongue.

He licks his lips, “There is only one thing sweeter than the taste of us,” he purrs, low and deep in his throat, before he laps in a long, wet streak up your thigh. “Your blood, darling, my first living blood, and the last I ever want to drink in the realm…”

Your heart skips a beat, his words sweetening the pain of his bite into your thigh’s supple flesh. “Yes, love, yes,” you feel the wave of your joining… your connection by blood as you now fill him as he has filled you.

“That’s why I call you my sweet, you know… my little treat. None I have tasted… nothing comes close to how your blood sings in my veins like the way your body trembles beneath me.”

He bites you again and again up and down your thigh… little nips of his fangs, making blood drip down the softness of your skin as he licks every tiny trickle.

And all the while, he growls hungrily as he feeds.

It isn’t pain that fills you… not even pleasure. It is pure rapture. Pure bliss that rides up and down your spine. His fingers slowly, languorously curling into your folds, catching on that secret spot just inside that he knows so well.

“You’ve been so generous,” he purrs, letting the low rumbles of his voice shake into your already throbbing folds. “So good to help me through this. Giving me everything.” He glances up from between your thighs, pure wicked delight on his handsome face. “Well, I hope you haven’t given me everything. I think this tainted blood is going to take much, much more before it’s through…”

He pauses his sweet words to circle your clit, sucking it hard in time with the pulsing of those long, cold fingers inside you.

“You will come for me again, won’t you?”

You can’t even get a word in before he builds you to bursting. Driving you to shatter on his hand, under his mouth, as that voracious tongue laps at the arousal that spills from you. Your world spins, nothing but his touch on your skin, his fingers still clenched deep in your cunt.

You’re floating, limp as your muscles flood with warmth and pleasure. Steadied only by the bed at your back and the little sucks of his lips and the wet passes of his tongue over the blood on your thighs.

“Mmm,” he hums as he draws himself up to sit between your outstretched legs. “Every time with you is just perfect. And not just because it’s chasing the devil from my veins, you know…”

He shifts over you, dragging that heavy, cold, unyielding body across your skin. Making you shiver. Spasm. Making you reignite with desire for more of him again and again. That knee… that wicked, provocative knee… it creeps beneath yours to hook you, to spread you wide again as he glides his cock through the mess of your unions already drenching you.

“Seems you still have some of the devil in you, needing to be driven away, hmm?” you flirt, trying to maintain some composure, until he grinds against your already overstimulated folds, your aching clit, reducing you to nothing but moans and spasm.

And he laughs. “Why, my darling, it seems your body is as raging as mine.” His hands stroke against your cheek, fingers teasing their tips into your errant strands of hair that stick to your face. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the one infected, if I didn’t still have this raging erection needing release…”

You catch him by surprise, buckling your knees around his waist, the wetness of your cunt almost drawing him inside you as you buck against him.

He groans, just a little thrust of his hips and he’s sheathed, so deep and already pulsing with that tainted, blinding need to fuck again.

You giggle, watching his eyes darken, his lids lowering to gaze with all the raging lust in his body upon the one he desires. The only one. As he is yours. You sigh, running your hands up those intricate scars of his back, “I am infected too, you know. Infected by my need for you, perhaps.”

His kiss descends to cover your lips, but it is one of tenderness. Longing. Unsated need softened by the affection that brims in the way he takes you this time.

He is slower, deliberate. Each thrust an offering of adoration for your body. Each drag of his cock inside your folds an expression of his gratitude, his devotion.

His proclamation that you are, in fact, perfect.

Your body rides his, melting into every motion your legs tight around his narrow waist, his arms slinking around your shoulders, pressing your face into the broadness of his shoulder. You gasp against his neck, wrapped in his pleasuring of you, as if you could pull him into your very being more.

That rhythm, that rocking, it begins to sweep you away, binding you to his body. Claiming you for his own. That same fever crawls in his veins as he clutches at you, that tempo increasing harsher. Faster. Until he’s groaning with all his feral drive again.

He pulls out from you, only to slam himself into your cunt, every inch of that long, pulsing length of his filling you to bursting.

He can’t take his eyes off you, raised up in his hands now. His crimson glare consumes your every reaction, every twitch and grin and grimace of painful bliss that he commands from you. Pummeling into you over and over again, your hands claw into his shoulders, slipping down his back to savor the feeling of every undulation of his hips into your core.

“So good… so perfect…” he purrs, ravenous in his gaze, “my only blood… my living blood…” the hard lines of his body ride over every nerve in yours. Your body burns. On fire. Consumed. His words tingle in your ear, caressing your heart that raps in your chest, pattering in time with his merciless thrusts.

It’s brutal, it’s unrelenting.

It’s wonderful. The sliding of his sweat soaked body over yours, your skin flaming and damp. “Hells,” you groan as that thick head of his cock presses and drags over that sweet spot in your channel. “Astarion…” you moan his name, almost incoherent aside from all he is.

“Mmmm darling,” he rasps, “no sweeter sound than my name on your lips… well,” he hums giving you thighs and extra hard slap that squelches with all your sweat and arousal, “aside from the way your body sounds as you take me over and over again so eagerly…”

Your eagerness peaks, your body ripping in two around the rapid plundering inside you. You sputter his name again, a moan that tears from your throat, a scream that makes his handsome face twisting in ecstasy as he rams hardest yet, pulsing and hitching and forcing his eyes to stare as you unravel. Sopping and drenched, the warmth of your fresh slick mingles with his, coating your thighs and his as it seeps from where you couple.

He groans, dropping his weight on you, blanketing you in his scent and sweat and panting frame. He places his damp forehead against your cheek, his cool breath making you shiver as he finally seems to relax. Even if his cock is still hardened and buried inside you.

You feel the rigid planes of his body slipping across yours with every one of your combined breaths. Signing in relief, you relish just how dirty you feel.

How dirty you’ve been.

“Once this has worked its way from your system, you will need to bathe me,” you pant. Your fingers linger and stray through the damp and sweaty curls of silver that stick to his face.

“That can be arranged…” those eyes, that face suddenly twisting again with all the depravity he still has simmering under his skin and in his mind. “Or would you settle for my tongue instead, darling?”

You shake your head, face bright, amused and skeptical. “As if you could accomplish that without bending me over in your state…”

“Mmmm,” he nuzzles against you, tilting his face to run the cold, damp pad of his tongue up your jaw. Laughing as you tremble. “You assume I could accomplish such a feat as resisting your charms without this suffering of tainted blood…”

He slips his cock from inside you, and you moan into his mouth, turning to bring that taunting smirk against your lips. Just for a moment kissing him, before he returns to lapping and caressing your sweat soaked cheek. You sigh with relief, stretching your legs, clenching them together to relieve the throbbing of your muscles.

And this was with that magical healing to sustain you.

You shake your head, in amused, affectionate irritation. Feeling his still erect cock beginning to rub against your hip. His tongue darts across your neck, the unvoiced question in the deliberate lapping and dragging of his fangs on your flushed and pulsing neck.

“For the love, please,” you pant, arching into him with your feverish body, your lust still matching his each time it rises, even as your muscles and marrow scream for reprieve. “Just a bit of rest, love, surely that tainted blood’s hold on you is lessened…”

“But what of your hold on me, hmm?” he rasps into the rapid pulse of your neck. “What if it’s not the succubus whose magic has consumed me, driven me mad and feral, making me no more than a rutting beast…” he gives that low throated giggle. “Your fault, you know, my sweet.”

You breathe heavily, aroused and exhausted in equal measure. “I take full blame,” you laugh weakly, “but it’s only because you’re so beautiful…”

“And witty… and passionate…” he adds a roll of his hips as he utters that last word, grinding that still hardened cock against your side.

“Just… a breath,” you plead. “Just a moment. You don’t seem to be so near death’s door now…”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that barb, given how good you’ve been and how much I’ve fucked you senseless,” he chides.

You laugh again, a bit of a whine in your voice. “Can’t you take care of just one by yourself…”

He murmurs in your ear. “Darling, I’ll take my pleasure from you in every way, in every hole, until this tainted blood is burned up in the blaze of my lust for you,” he groans, “or until I’ve completely exhausted you, leaving you spent and heaving. And then I’ll simply seek my own pleasure just at the sight of you sleeping.”

You stretch, clenching your whole body hoping for that release and rest. If he lets you have it for a moment. “Mmmm, well love, sounds like I’ll really need that bath in the morning any way you come at it…”

He giggles again. Naughty. Dirty. His hand now wrapped firmly around his cock, rubbing for himself, letting it beat against your skin softly. “Oh… I’ll come at it, don’t you fret… darling.”

[moonastroellie]

“Me and the devil walking side by side”

summary: you lived in a small town in Jackson, you went to a small high school with your best friend Ellie, Dina and Jesse… everything was normal, until it wasn’t.

cw: 18+, no smut but a lot of gore, mentions of substance use (weed and alcohol), usage of alcohol, mentions of schizophrenia and psychosis, mentions of drugging but no drugging, mentions of spiders for all you lil people who are scared of them (don’t worry i am too), mentions of murder, semi demon/vampire.

“y/n?”

…

“y/n?!”

…

y/n” Ellie says, putting her hand on your shoulder to make sure you’re okay “you okay? you look like you’ve just seen a ghost”

Technically, she isn’t wrong. although, it wasn’t a ghost you saw while you were zoned out. it was more of a…. vision? but you didn’t know what to think of it because it was blurry and oh shit you’re lost in thought again.

You shake your head fast and turn to Ellie “yeah. i’m good, you good??” a nervous chuckle left your lips, ellie’s piercing green eyes staring at you—they’re soft yet powerful eyes, it always made you smile.

She smiles back understanding your nervous chuckle, she laughs a bit and then confirms she is doing okay as well.

“you wanna go get something to eat?” Ellie asks in a soft voice, you nod and both go downstairs. Joel, ellie’s father was sitting at the table sipping on coffee (just how he always does) “watcha want?”

“uh, whatever you want” you reply back, her voice more unsteady now “oh i’ve already eaten. i’m full” that’s weird, you had been with ellie all day and hadn’t seen her eat once, maybe she snuck some food into the bathroom when you weren’t looking so you brush it off as nothing…

“I gotta get home, thanks for having me!” you smile and give her a hug, thanking joel for letting you come over—the walk home was how it always was, you lived up the road from ellie and although it was close, it was getting dark.

“hey ma! i’m home!” you shout out as you open the front door, yet another sight to come home to your dad sipping on a beer and watching the tv, it felt odd to see your mom watching the tv so you walk over to see the news…

“a young boy found dead, police have confirmed he was a 14-year-old boy from the high school here in Jackson, his name being James Reed, if there are any witness’s who may have seen something happen please contact the police immediately” the lady on the news explains, leaving you and your mother shocked, your dad just scoffs “probably got drunk and fell over himself”

“the bite marks found on him are not identified by scientists and we recommend everyone stays indoors at night time” the woman explains further, leaving your dad with wide eyes as he realises this is more serious than he thought.

“no more going out at night” your mother says, “but mom?”

“no buts, don’t want to find you dead, no more going to ellie’s late at night otherwise you’ll have to stay home or sleep over at hers” you let out a sigh… “fine”

—

Throughout the night you have trouble sleeping, a constant ringing and talking in your ear— you’ve always experienced these, especially after smoking weed for the first time, a constant assumption it was just psychosis… Eventually these distorted words got louder and louder and you couldn’t handle it anymore, pulling your hands up to your ear and sitting up in bed, back pressing against your headboard…

“t-ehy wabt ta gat you” the voices grew louder and louder, your body covered in sweat as you try to remain calm…

“you- cannot escape this” the one clear voice you’ve gotten, though it didn’t sound like someone you knew- that’s when it all stopped, as soon as the voice realised it had disoriented you and made you beyond paranoid… you could barely function, the fear that someone could be fucking with your head- maybe someone drugged you, maybe i’m insane, maybe something is wrong with you?

these ideas bouncing around your head left and right before you finally fell into a deep sleep, a coma like state, you couldn’t feel your body- it was numb to the world and your senses felt like they were gone, it started with an itch on your neck when you were in such a deep sleep, you scratch it and immediately it went away, but the burning sensation didn’t go away…

Waking up was difficult, getting almost no sleep you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth- you grabbed your toothbrush and started brushing your teeth, it’s when you looked in the mirror and saw two bite marks, they weren’t deep but looked like spider bites almost.

you shrugged and went downstairs to tell your dad there were spiders in your room again.

“brekky?” your mom asks, you nod. “how’d you sleep?” your mothers voice calm and relaxed, you just lie and say it was good.

“fantastic” she butters your toast and gives it to you, you sit down at the table and start eating-

that’s when everything around you looked distorted in a way, you could make out what was around you but it just didn’t feel right- the voices were back.

i

“you enjoying the food?” the voice asks, you look around you confused “no one can hear it” it adds on, you don’t know if you should talk or just talk via your mind, you pull a hair strand behind your ear as you start to sweat up a bit… your mom taking notice and asking if you’re okay, your pupils blown big and your actions erratic “school! now, bye!” your words didn’t make sense but you couldn’t control over what you said, almost like you were being controlled.

I know this is short but when i have more inspiration to write i will, promise. I just had this as a draft for wayyy too long.. should i make a part 2 tho? that’s the better question..

[steddieas-shegoes]

hide away

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'came back wrong' rated: m wc: 810 cw: mentions of blood, canon-typical violence tags: vampire eddie munson (kinda, it's a little unclear if that's exactly what he is), emotional reunion, soul bond type thing

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

The bumps against his window became more frequent as the days passed and Steve was starting to think he was going crazy.

After the second night, he'd gone on his roof to check if anything could possibly be brushing against his window.

Nothing.

The third night, he sat up in his bed and watched, despite all of the fear in his mind telling him to get under the covers and at least pretend to be asleep.

But the little that he did sleep, he had nightmare after nightmare of Eddie bleeding out in Dustin's arms, in his arms.

He watched Eddie get eaten alive by demobats over and over again, unable to interfere, unable to even yell for him to let him know he wasn't alone.

The dark circles under his eyes were just a new accessory, and he carried it with the same exhaustion they all had, even a month after everything happened.

As he folded himself into his bed, curling his comforter around him for safety, not warmth, he turned to the window.

There's someone out there.

The thought crossed his mind before his eyes processed the shadow of a person standing just outside the window.

He refused to get up, but he could tell the person outside didn't need him to.

His window opened.

His heart raced.

One breath.

Two.

"Steve."

Eddie.

"How?" Steve squeaked out, his voice so high pitched he wasn't even sure Eddie heard him.

"I think...the bats?" his voice sounded deeper, not as light.

"But...we checked your pulse. You weren't breathing." Steve sat up, pushing the blanket off of him. "You were dead. You were dead."

The sob was loud enough to cause his whole body to shiver.

"I know. I know. I was."

"So, what? You're alive again? Are you a ghost? A demon? A vampire?"

Eddie shrugged as he fell to his knees by Steve's bed, probably afraid to get his sheets dirty with the grime of the Upside Down covering his clothes, dried blood staining his skin.

"Vampire is the closest I can get to. I um," Eddie gulped. "I haven't tried to drink blood yet, though."

"Do you need to?" Steve asked, worried that Eddie would die again because he didn't have what he needed.

"I think I just have to drink your blood."

The room closed in around Steve as his pulse quickened.

"I know it sounds crazy. I'm sorry for even suggesting it. I just...it's something I just know. I can't explain it."

"How?"

"It's like my chest has a spot carved out just for you and the only way to make you fit is to have a piece of you and your blood is the piece. I don't know what's wrong with me," Eddie sounded terrified.

"Hey," Steve reached down, touched Eddie's mess of curly hair, felt a shock of something. "Eds, you're here. We can figure it out. You wanna try?"

"Try what?"

"Drinking my blood."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I might not stop."

"You will."

Steve knew it. He didn't know how he knew it, he just did.

And Eddie must have known it deep down, too, because the next thing Steve knew, Eddie's hand was in his hair, gently tugging his head back to expose his throat.

His breath was hot, but his lips were cold.

Eddie let out a small laugh.

"Maybe you were born with these moles as a user manual," Eddie joked.

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled. Eddie making a joke like that was a good sign, the best sign.

The moment Eddie's teeth sunk into his neck, Steve relaxed.

The feeling Eddie had described earlier, the empty place made just for him, he felt it being filled in both of them.

He should have panicked, should have immediately pulled away, but Eddie's hands held him close, held him steady.

Eddie's mouth felt like it belonged on him.

Eddie felt like his.

When he finally pulled away, they smiled at each other.

"Taste a little salty. Might wanna consider some fruit in your diet, Stevie," Eddie teased.

"I'll consider it," Steve rolled his eyes.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Eddie stayed with Steve for three days before they finally came up with a plan for telling everyone.

He had to stay hidden, not just because they weren't sure what he was, but because if he was seen by anyone, he could be arrested.

They didn't know much, but they knew they couldn't let that happen.

So he fed from Steve every night.

Not much, just enough to take away the hollow feeling that started to present itself after nearly 24 hours without.

They always kissed after, always spent the night curled up in Steve's bed together, tracing patterns in each other's naked skin.

And when everyone found out, it was only because they walked in on Steve and Eddie making out in the kitchen.

[xo2dee]

ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄʀʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʀᴇꜱᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ

♱ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Vergil x Reader

♱ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: teeny tiny angst

♱ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1807

♱ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Believing that Vergil was the prim and proper sleeper you thought he was had been a case of poor judgement on your behalf. You were entirely wrong.

♱ ᴀ/ɴ: i feel like if vergil were to live at dmc with dante he'd def sleep on a twin sized mattress. feet hanging off and everything and probably the HEAVIEST sleeper

♱ twitter - ao3

In retrospect, you didn't think too long or too hard about it, but bashing your knees on the floor because you had been kicked out of bed was perhaps... the 'eye-opener', if you will. You thought perhaps him sleeping that way in a stark contrast to how he carried himself when he was awake was just another layer to his complexing being, one that you had yet to fully uncover or dig deep into to. 

Though... the shit he was pulling in his sleep as of that moment compared to what he had been doing was the tip of iceberg. You just didn't know it. 

Believing that Vergil was the prim and proper sleeper you thought he was had been a case of poor judgement on your behalf. That man was anything but an easy-going bedmate. It wasn’t your fault, you genuinely thought that from the way he carried himself he more than likely slept so still, and so light that a feather dropping would awaken him; anyone would think that. Hell, you thought sometimes that he probably didn’t even sleep. You were entirely wrong.

If you were being honest, you always conjured up images in your mind of the stoic half-demon sleeping like a vampire; body pin-straight lying on his back with his beloved Yamato clasped between his hands resting along the front of his body. You only thought so before your relationship grew from the trivial back and forth you two often engaged in; after becoming more intimate and eventually moving to share a bed together, you half-heartedly wanted nothing more than to smother him with a pillow. Yet, being able to see Vergil with his hair loose from its usual place and the furrow from his brow gone as he rested made it worth it.

Possibly.

Starting off, your lover was entirely too big for the antics he pulled in his sleep. Vergil was a whopping 6’5 – you didn’t even want to guess how much he weighed given whenever he rolled on top of you felt as if your lungs were being crushed – and it was a wonder how his feet didn’t hang off the end. The bed wasn’t too small, a queen-sized, but the points where you found yourself pushed to the edge had been just the beginning of a new petty war between you two.

You started resting your chilly feet on his lower back in retaliation, partly just to annoy him and also because Vergil’s body temperature ran like a furnace. You had to give it to him there, the harsh winters were comfortable since you could curl yourself around him wallowing in his heat albeit he would complain, but in the heat of summer was the time when your Scrooge decided he wanted to 'cuddle'. Vergil was never one for cuddling, what he did felt more punishing than relaxing when you could barely move in some of his favorite 'positions'.

(He definitely started doing it after the feet incident where you ‘accidentally’ ran your toes up his spine, cackling when he tensed and threw a nasty scowl over his shoulder.)

When you started waking in headlocks and body-locked positions with perspiration stuck to your back and Vergil breathing down your neck, you knew you had to step up your game. You had your fair share of falling asleep on Vergil’s shoulder and slobbering on his coat, and while he complained and would do his loud-ass sighing, you knew it didn’t bother him that much, particularly when he never would move you if you were napping. Mouth-breathing became a new tendency when you slept, one Vergil nagged about because apparently you ‘breathe too loud’ and ‘snore like Dante’. You disregarded him because you did not snore, and settled with your cheek either pressed against his pectoral or his bicep and rejoiced when you would wake up with dried saliva along your cheeks and lips and encrusted onto his skin. However, that flopped when he seemingly paid it no mind and one morning when you turned to give him a sweet good morning kiss, he caught your face between his hand and pinched your cheeks together eyeing you beneath his lashes.

“Your breath stinks.”

You can’t stand him.

Afterwards, it was small things such as hogging the blankets, taking the others’ pillow, or you being sprawled out in the center of the bed before Vergil came, to which he would promptly pick you up and either move you to your side or, if he was feeling mischievous, lay you on top of him. You supposed it was getting foolish when you both winded down to normal sleep behaviors, though the night you woke up in a panic because you were falling off the bed was the tipping point.

You barely managed a squeak when you felt yourself free-falling for a brief moment landing on your palms to keep from face-planting and smashing your nose. Blinking a couple times to register where you were and clearing your sleep-addled mind, you pushed upwards to sit on your bottom and peered over the mattress at your partner.

Did he kick you out of bed…

What the fuck.

You slowly stood, glaring at his sleeping face suddenly irritated with how lovely he looked sleeping. You could never tell if Vergil was faking sleep or not, his poker face was one in a million and provided the only times he cracked a smile was at the thought of fighting Dante you really couldn’t tell when he was being serious or actually teasing. Watching his chest fall in periodic bouts, you decided yes, he was asleep, but not for long.

“Vergil.”

Nothing. You leaned closer.

“Vergil.”

He didn’t even twitch. Squinting you brought your face dangerously close to his to see if you could gander a reaction. His senses were sharp; you were never able to sneak up on him with his hearing – and evidently your smell – and usually trying to give him a sneaky little peck stirred him, grumbling about how he can hear your breathing pick up and pulse increase.

Embarrassing.

Then again, you hoped Vergil didn’t wake up and see you hovering over him like some parched freak.

“Vergil,” you tried once more, only to end up sighing when he stretched a leg out. The man had the audacity to kick you out of your bed and continue sleeping afterwards in the middle of the bed. How were you supposed sleep with this beast in your bed who slept like he was dead? The moonlight glowing down through the window above the bed wasn’t helping your case in being mad at him when it shined right on his bare chest either.

When Dante had told you a relationship with Vergil wouldn’t be easy and you’d face hardships, you thought that meant the emotional trauma he had and him settling into the world once more. Not you seething at the side of your bed at three in the morning because your boyfriend was hogging the bed.

You sat down sighing before making a last ditch effort to try and at least move his arm so you could burrow underneath that at least. You really didn’t want to sleep on the couch downstairs using a pillow as a cover. Cursing him, you lifted his limp arm to roll underneath –

Only for the arm to snatch your waist and pull you down onto the mattress facing the ceiling. The bounce made you gasp as Vergil’s arm moved and his hand skimmed your upper arm until fingertips ghosted your shoulder and his hand rested at your nape. You purposefully dug your shoulder against his chest deeper as you turned your head to stare at his Adams apple.

“Vergil, are you awake or…”

Silence. Then, “No.”

You exploded.

“What do you mean ‘No’?! Were you awake that entire time just to sit and watch me suffer?”

His fingers resting on your nape squeezed slightly before letting off to linger on your skin there, “Why were you hovering over the bed ogling me?” You never got tired listening to his groggy, sleepy voice, it was enough to tingle your spine so close to your ear. You pushed it away though, opting to grit your teeth and ready to lay it on him.

“I was not ‘ogling’ you, who even says that. You kicked me out of the bed with your pterodactyl feet because you don’t know how to share a bed. I tried waking you up, but you sleep like a log,” you finished your rant jabbing a finger into chest and scratching a nail downwards.

Vergil pulled back a fraction looking somewhat insulted at the comment prior to sighing and lying his chin atop your head, “So noisy… I woke you.”

You frowned. Generally, he was biting back a response which would lead into a humorous insult match, yet he let it go instead pulling you closer and staying quiet. Had you said something wrong? Were his feelings hurt by the pterodactyl comment? Couldn’t have been, Vergil never cared when you made unusual jokes like that. Was it the sharing pass you made? You knew from small-talk Dante and Vergil fought constantly as children, over practically anything, but you knew it stimmed down to Vergil always being mad Dante would take his things from him – explaining the poetry book he adored with his initial carved into the front. Yet, that didn’t make sense for him to be mad. You thought back; you told him he kicked you out of bed, which was odd alone because he rarely jerked in his sleep unless he was –

Unless he was having a nightmare.

You nearly groaned, how did you forget that? He was more than likely kicking out fighting whatever was haunting his dream. Normally it was just noise and he’d wake himself up rolling away to deal with it himself, not one for sentimental words and reassuring touches. You pushed out a nearly inaudibly sigh, but you know his ears picked it up. He was waiting for you to respond as you turned to shove your face into his neck.

“Yeah, well, have many times have I woke you up,” you murmured, fluttering your eyelashes against his throat, bending a leg around his hip. Given, half the times you had woken him were when you had to pee and was trapped under his weight…

“Many.”

“…It was a rhetorical question.”

“You have woken me numerous times, usually because you want sex.”

“...”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to explain why.”

He didn’t respond. Suddenly wide awake, you placed a hand on his chest and rose your leg to sit at his waist. Vergil sighed.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Mm. How interesting.”

“…You wanna –”

You didn’t get to finish when he rolled on top of you immediately giving you an answer with his lips.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Performer: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Hold on. Just hold onto what's good. Don't let him see how broken you are. Spencer becomes heartbroken when he realizes that you don't want to see him but you'll see everyone else. How can you see yourself through his eyes like this?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"In all the darkest pages in the malign supernatural, there is no more terrible tradition than that of a vampire--a pariah even among demons." - Writer Montague Summers

Spencer's been busy all month. Hotch and Derek have been giving him task after task so he hasn't had a chance to see you. He finally finished everything he needed to do so he gets ready to visit you before returning to work. Derek sees him trying to leave so he drops what he's doing and approaches Spencer.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To see Y/N. We're not that busy here, and I figured I could be back to work in a couple of hours."

"I need you to complete these files. They're urgent and must get done right away."

"You have a whole team at your disposal. Is it selfish if I ask you to give that to someone else? I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Spencer, I need you to get this done."

"Morgan, I haven't been to see Y/N since she got arrested. Is it too much to ask if--"

"She doesn't want you there, man," Derek blurts.

The entire floor is quiet as Spencer tries to process his words. He looks at Emily and JJ who have sad looks on their faces, Rossi and Hotch have stoic looks, and Penelope is close to tears.

"What? She said that?" Derek opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. "Morgan!"

"Look, she loves you. There's no doubt about that, but she doesn't want you there."

"She's my girlfriend. I deserve to see her! I have to know how she is doing."

"Why don't Pen and I go?" JJ offers. "We can check on her and we'll let her know whatever you want us to tell her."

Spencer scoffs at her offer and shakes his head. He walks back to his desk and sits down angrily. Derek nods to JJ and the two women leave the office. Spencer's jaw ticks but he doesn't say anything about it. You don't want him there? Bullshit. Derek watches Spencer with a careful eye as he goes back to what he was doing before.

It takes JJ and Penelope 2 hours to get to you. You're glad to see your two best friends knowing that Spencer probably fought to go with them. Or maybe no one knows they're here. Regardless, you're glad to see them. The bruise on your face has gone down a lot but it's at the yellow-brown stage. It's healing but still noticeable. JJ doesn't say anything when she sees the bruise but Penelope almost breaks down at the sight of you.

"Please don't cry, Penelope, or I'll cry," you sniffle. She nods and tries to stop herself. She shakes her head and hands the phone to JJ while she calms herself down. Seeing you like this breaks her heart because she considers you to be one of her best friends and she hates seeing people she loves in pain. "So, how's Henry doing?"

"He's doing really good. He's sleeping a lot better, but he misses you a lot."

"I miss him, too."

Once Penelope is calm enough, she leans closer to the phone while it's still in JJ's hand so she can talk to you.

"I am trying really hard to work on your case. We're all being monitored very closely."

JJ hands the phone to Penelope so she can hear what you have to say.

"Don't apologize for doing your job. There is nothing wrong with that. Those people need you to help them."

"Whose going to help you? You can't be stuck in here for something you didn't do."

"My trial is coming up soon. There's still a chance I'll be released."

JJ gestures for the phone.

"We will be right there when it happens. You won't be alone."

"I know."

"Look, we have to get back but I want you to know Spencer--"

"He's not here, is he?" you panic.

"No, but he wanted to see you this morning. Morgan gave him some work to do but he was angry."

"I can't let him see me like this," you sigh. "He's going to remember me this way, and I don't want him thinking of this when he thinks of me. I don't want him to see me in pain because then he'll be in pain, and I'll feel worse than I already do."

"I get it. Trust me."

"Please try and keep him away from here."

"We'll try. We have to go now."

"Okay. I miss and love you guys."

"We love you, too," Penelope smiles.

When JJ and Penelope get back, Spencer doesn't talk to him. He's still upset over what happened. If something was wrong with you, they'd tell him for sure. They'll let Spencer be alone for right now and will talk to him when he's ready. Derek got a case just in time for their arrival, so everyone met in the briefing room to talk about it. JJ knows about this case since it came across her desk first, so she knows what to talk about in the briefing room.

"Alright, the latest victim is Tara Farris, twenty. She's the third victim in two weeks. All were found on freeway off-ramps by commuters."

"He's not hiding them. He must want them found quickly otherwise he wouldn't dump them on an LA freeway before the morning rush."

"Well, they're still dressed. That minimizes the shock value. Maybe he's concerned for them. Do you think he wants them taken care of?"

"There are no signs of sexual assault on any of the victims. All of them were severely hypovolemic. Tara had less than a pint of blood in her. The first two had more than three pints each. If exsanguination is the goal, the unsub is definitely becoming more proficient."

"This is new," JJ says. "Tara's the only victim to have a written message."

She puts a picture on the screen of Tara's crime scene. There is something written next to her body.

"The liar," Hotch reads. "What did you lie about, Tara?"

"All of the victims appear to have been strangled and then bled out through identical wounds in the throat," JJ says, showing the necks of the victims.

"Seriously? Are those supposed to be fang marks?" Emily asks.

"All of the wounds on the victims were covered in saliva. Human saliva, as though someone drank their blood."

This conversation has to continue on the plane since they need to get to Los Angeles right away.

"So, they've already set up a task force in Los Angeles," JJ says. "You remember Detective Owen Kim, right?"

"From the stalker case, yeah," Hotch nods.

"You remember that case, don't you, Spence?"

"Yeah."

"Do you still talk to Lila?"

"How can you expect me to think about another woman when mine is sitting in prison where I can't visit because she doesn't want me to?" Spencer asks angrily. The entire team is silent. "Please, continue."

"Why don't you tell us about blood drinkers, Reid."

"Human blood consumption, or clinical vampirism, is known as Renfield's Syndrome. It's named after the insect-eating character in Bram Stoker's novel Dracula."

"Are they sadists?"

"Not necessarily. Pain to the victim is usually only a byproduct. Blood is the focus. Renfield's syndrome is usually accompanied by varying levels of schizophrenia, and occasionally more classic cannibalism if the condition evolves."

"Classic cannibalism. Lovely job we have," Rossi says sarcastically.

"I will say this, true cases are exceedingly rare."

"Renfield's may be rare but vampires are anything but. There's a huge subculture in Los Angeles of the red-drinking undead," Penelope says over video chat.

"Garcia, all these people drink blood?" Derek asks.

"Au contraire. They mostly just dress up like Prentiss did in high school, and they make-believe. It's all kinds of delicious."

"It's not the same thing at all. As a matter of fact, we should refer to this unsub as a vampirist, not a vampire. They would be attracted to the subculture merely for its professed worship of blood," Spencer corrects.

"Okay, I'm going to continue spelunking through the various online sites and see if anything jumps up and bites me."

"Thanks, baby g--" Derek stops himself from flirting. She is now underneath him and he can't be seen flirting with his subordinate. "Thanks, Penelope. Stay close."

"Yes, sir. Garcia out." 

"One more thing, vampirists are coveters," Spencer says. "They most generally always have some sort of relationship with the victim, even if it's tangential. They're likely to become obsessed. They've almost certainly crossed paths in some way."

Detective Kim is eager for their arrival, and he is practically at the front door when they arrive.

"Hi, Lieutenant Kim. Agent Jareau," JJ shakes his hand.

"JJ, of course. I remember most of you. Agent Hotchner. Reid. Morgan. Where's Y/N?"

"Not here right now," Hotch says. Spencer's face drops at the mention of your name but he doesn't say anything. "These are Agents Prentiss and Rossi. I believe they're new to you."

"Hi. We already have a room set up full of glass boards, case files, and extremely bad coffee."

"Agent Morgan's in charge now. It's his show." Kim gives him a weird look. "Long story."

"I know you like to start with the freshest information and work your way back. So, Tara's apartment has been processed and sealed in case you want to go there. Her body, along with that of the first two girls, is at the morgue with an ME waiting there for your call."

"Alright. JJ, get set up here and then hook up with Garcia. Send her the witness information so she can start cross-referencing with the first two victims. Reid, I want you to go through all the case files and set up a preliminary profile based on what you already know about psychopathology. The rest of us find out what we can on Tara."

JJ and Spencer get together to work off each other while the others do their own thing. Spencer is distracted, rightfully so, but he tries his best to focus on the case. How can you say you don't want him to see you? After everything you two have been through.

"When vampirists become obsessed, they aren't likely to find a random victim. If we can find a cross-relationship, someone in all the victims' lives, that'll be incredibly helpful," Spencer says.

"Gina King knew Tara the longest. They had some classes together."

"Let's get all the information we can on that relationship. As a matter of fact, get me everything you can on all of Tara's friends."

"Alright. In the morning, I'll track them down and do some follow-up."

Rossi and Emily went to Tara's apartment where her murder took place. There are books about movies and films that she was using to study. Everything she needed to know to make movies. In her bedroom is where they find the most interesting stuff. On one side of the room are posters of a goth man named Dante. It's a mini-shrine to the man fit with posters of him, trinkets about him, candles, and other things.

She has a laptop which probably has everything they need to know about her, so Penelope is going to have to work her magic to get inside of it. If Tara was into some creepy cult shit, then her social media will show it.

Derek and Hotch went to the ME's office to inspect the bodies of all three victims. The saliva found on them hasn't been a match of anyone in the DNA database but they have it going through the lab for more testing. If the ME sends the samples over to the local bureau lab and has them rush it, they'll have something by tomorrow.

The weird thing about the bites is just that... they're not bites. The edges of the wounds are razor-sharp. A tooth would leave a ragged, torn edge. Even with animal bites, the edges are torn by teeth. The "bites" were done with some sort of sharp and efficient instrument. If the bites aren't really bites, then why is there saliva on the wounds? From licking it afterward?

All they know for sure is that once an unsub like this gets started, it only gets worse.

Nothing can get done until the lab results are back in, so the team picks up the investigation the next morning. However, by the time they got into the station, there was news of another body. Spencer and JJ have gotten custody of Tara's laptop so Penelope is working remotely trying to get into it. The news is on about the recent murder and what it could mean, which is where most of the team is.

"This is Chase Manning, News Chopper 12, over the 101 freeway in San Fernando Valley. Apparently, a second body in as many days has been found near an off-ramp," a news reporter says.

"So much for keeping the media out," JJ scoffs. Penelope calls and she places her on speakerphone. "Penelope? Are we in yet?"

"All yours. I always feel skeevy going through someone's life like this."

"Okay, so everything looks like it's password protected so you might not even be able to--you're in already, aren't you?" JJ chuckles.

"The password was 'Cullen'."

"Of course," JJ laughs.

"Colon?" Spencer asks.

"Cullen. The vampire family from Twilight." Spencer's bottom lip wobbles as he tries not to cry. "Are you okay?"

"I kept putting off having a Twilight marathon with Y/N. She really wanted me to watch it."

JJ becomes sad for Spencer. She hates what this is doing to him. If it were up to her, she would bring him right to you. She understands why you don't want him to see you but she understands why he feels like he has the right to.

"If it makes you feel any better, she seems to be doing okay," she white-lies.

"It doesn't," Spencer sighs.

"Okay. I am gonna go talk to Tara's BFF before the media requests come in and it gets too crazy."

"What's a BFF?"

"Best friends forever."

"Should I go with you?"

"No, you have a profile to deliver."

"I should really work on it a little more."

JJ rolls her eyes and grabs his phone before he can stop her.

"What are you doing with my phone?"

She dials someone and places the phone against her ear.

"Derek, hey, Spence is ready for the profile." Spencer tries to grab the phone from her but she moves away. "Why, yes, he is right here." She hands him his phone and waves. "I'll be back."

"Hey, yeah, I have the profile ready to go whenever you are."

"Alright, we'll be right in," Derek says before hanging up. "Hotch, Reid's ready with the profile."

"Good."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[stxar-pvnk]

I wanna make a fic about runaway Sam who runs away when he's 9/10 because John hits him and the only place he thinks to stay at is bobbys.

They've only met twice and it was brisk and short. Nothing nice. Sam didn't even know if the guy would open the door for him!

But still, he hitchhikes his way to bobbys house exhaustedly making his way to the front door and knocking.

Out comes bobby with a scruffy lookin' beard and a used, weared cap, looking down at a bruised and near dead on his feet kid.

Bobby grabs him by his shirt dragging him in

"Im-im sorry uncle bobby- I just-I didn't have anywhere to go and dad got bad again, but he got bad again to me-" bobby cut the boys rambling off.

He had though that this had been a bad hunt gone wrong but..

"Your daddy did this to you?" Looking at the purple bruise on the boy cheek

Sam looked away horrifyingly embarrassed. Ofcourse bobby wouldn't believe him. John was his friend.

But Sam nodded anyway his lips pulled back in a grimace

"Son of a BITCH! I'm gonna kill that bastard." The older man scowled his knuckles going white from how tight he was holding himself.

"You.. believe me." His voice came out as a whisper

"Course I do. C'mon kid, you look like you could use a nap."

For the next few years (11 to be exact)

Bobby taught Sam everything he knew. Archery, researching, demons,vampires, wearwolves, how to fight (with more parental concern for its use and not just to hunt.)

When Sam had asked when he was 12 to go on a hunt bobby said no.

2 years later anexhausted bobby complied with his wishes and went on their first hunt.

Bobby couldn't be prouder when Sam comes up to him, barely a scratch on him

"See! I-i listened to that trick you taught me and-and I sweeped his leg, dad that was amazing!" Sam beamed like an excited animal

They both stilled in the car

"..oh." Sam looked out the window exceptionally embarrassed by his words.

Bobby was a gruff, not all talk about his feelings guy.

So when he said

"..you can call me that, boy if you wanna."

They left it at that..

Sam was enrolled into school taking the name Samuel singer.

He felt...nice about that.

But not all things worked out how we wanna.

And proof of that was the impala rocking up out of the blue in years on Bobby's property.

Sam was sixteen now, working on a car bobby had just newly gifted him for his birthday when he heard the car pull up.

"Sorry guys-we don't do walk ins her-" Sam stood in his tracks.

There stood a 20 year old concerned dean and a half guilty half relieved John.

Sam knew what his first instinct was

"daAAAD!" he yelled running into the house to grab his shotgun, bobby thinking the exact same thing.

Bobby walked out cocking his shotgun and aiming it at john's head

"What are you doing here." Bobby demanded.

"I want my son back, bobby. Now."

"Your son?"

"Yeah. My son." John sneered

"I'm his daddy. I cook him food for school. I have him *in* school. Couldn't say the same for you. Sam's good here. Actually no. Sam's great here. Cause hes my kid. Because he's *Samuel singer*, bastard." Bobby growled

Sam walked out and dean finally got a good look at the once scrawny boy.

Samuel had grown muscle, was probably just under 6ft and had grown out his hair funnily enough. If this was a lighter circumstance dean would punch his little brothers arm, ruffle his hair and tell him what an idiot he was.

But..it wasn't.

Sam was looking around with suspicious eyes, his body stuff and his arms crossed over his chest.

6 years it had taken. 6 years it had taken to find this kid. And he was right here with bobby. John had refuse to look here, after the last time he had seen bobby they had an falling out, presuming he would never help the winchester family again. He was indescribably wrong. He willed down the feeling of betrayal as he stared at the kid with a kind of shock in his eyes.

The kid called bobby dad now, went to school, had friends, had a social life.

"Sammy-" John turned over to see his son and Sam didn't even flinch his eyes just narrowed

"Sam." He corrected

Dean stepped up showing his hands in surrender as bobby Highers his gun properly

"Hey-hey look. Sam. Dad messed up. We get it i-c'mon kid. We want to take you back home you know? You've—you got you driving licence buddy? I heard about that, you wanna drive the impala the way there?" Dean was pleading, his knees about to buckle, if Sam wanted him to beg he was ready to put his pride aside.

"Dean.."

"Sammy please."

"No. I can't. Me and dad-"

"Bobby." Dean harshly snapped

"Dad." Sam snarled.

Johns jaw clenched and Sam's did too

"Your only so forgiving because he never hit you dean." Sams lip quivered as he fought back angry vicious tears.

John took a step and bobby aimed the gun it hitting johns forehead.

"You touch my kid and it's gonna be the last thing you do, John winchester. And I don't neccisarily want to be lighting a corpse on fire when me and Sam are going for a late birthday dinner." Bobby glared.

I will be writing this ff, 1st chapter will be coming out soon (today or tomorrow.)

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Four

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut!, public sex, religious content/struggle/corruption

length: 8,390 words

<-previous || next–>

After WinWin leaves, you sit there in that empty hallway for a little while. The fluorescent white light is such a stark difference to the dark club atmosphere right on the other side of the doors that you just want to linger here a little longer. So you do.

You sit there for at least another ten, twenty minutes. 

Eventually you stand up, you walk back through the doorway into the club, and you don’t look for Yuta or for Ten or Mark or any of the other even semi-familiar faces. You head for the exit, and you leave. You walk back through the underground by yourself, back through the city’s streets, and you ride the elevator up to your apartment alone. 

You shower, rinsing away the club’s stink and the sweat from your skin. You manifest yourself something to eat. 

You’ve just settled in on the sofa to eat the food when you hear a knock at the door. Quiet at first, but when you don’t answer, whoever is on the other side knocks again louder, and still unanswered after that, they pick up a frantic pounding knock.

Finally you stand, and checking first through the small peephole, you see that it’s Ten standing on the other side. He’s knocking continuously on the door, so when you throw it open, he nearly knocks you right in the face. His eyes are a stark black. 

“Thank fuck,” he hisses, sweeping in to wrap his arms around you. “You’re home! You disappeared, and we were so worried that something happened to you! Don’t do that!” Ten squeezes his arms tight, crushing you to his chest. “Yuta’s probably tearing apart Mark’s club right now looking for you.”

You slip out of the hug, stalking back over to the sofa to eat. “Well, maybe you should stop him.”

Ten shrugs, closing the apartment door behind him as he comes inside. “He’ll be here soon enough.”

“Good.” You stab at your dinner. “I need to talk to you both.”

“Oh? I don’t like the sound of that.” Ten settles down on the other end of the sofa. 

You shrug, avoiding eye contact as you say. “I made a decision. I want Yuta to send me home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Silence falls in a thick blanket over the room. 

“Please don’t do this again,” Ten pleads. 

You don’t say a word, just quietly eat and ignore his presence. The TV plays quietly, though neither of you are watching it, it’s just offering up a quiet background white noise. 

“Don’t go,” Ten repeats. “I like having you around way too much. And you like it here, too, so I don’t understand. You’ve been enjoying everything, right? The places we’ve taken you, all the sights we’ve shown you, the people you met? Did we do something wrong?”

You frown. “No, you didn’t really do anything wrong.”

Ten frowns now too. “What does that mean?”

“I’m so tired of all of this supernatural shit. I don’t like that anyone I meet could actually be an evil non-human thing. I don’t like that thing that happened earlier tonight with that hallucination. A few weeks ago I didn’t even believe in demons or magic or any of this stuff, not really. Not as actual things that could come and take me away or influence me. I didn’t believe that I could be caught up in a magical hallucination that would feel so real. I certainly didn’t believe in demons as attractive, or even as people..” You close your eyes and move your dinner off to the coffee table. “A few weeks ago I only knew of Satan or Lucifer, nothing of any Queen of the Night or any of this other stuff. No demons or friendly vampires or horny werewolves. I miss my life. It was easy and not weird.”

“It was weird, you just didn’t know it.” Ten says with a sigh. One sideways peek through your eyelashes shows you that he’s drawn his feet up onto the sofa, knees up towards his chest with his arms wrapped around them as he looks at you. He’s got that normal human man look about him again, the one that makes you want to just crawl over and cuddle up to him. 

Ten watches you for a few long seconds, then he says, “What’s so bad about demons being people? You like Yuta and I, don’t you? And you like Mark? Why does it matter if we’re demons or vampires or anything else?” His eyes flicker between cat-slit pupils and regular human eyes for a split second, after which he says, “You’re right about werewolves, though. Fuck them.”

You turn your head fully to the side to look at him now. “Why do you guys hate werewolves so much?”

“They’re fucking dogs, and I’m a cat guy.” Ten makes a face of disgust. “They’re not all absolutely awful, but a lot of them are. They let the wolf side control them even when they’re human. I’ve met a few good ones in my time, but no matter how good or bad they are, provoke them just a little and suddenly you’re faced with a big, ugly dog.”

“Couldn’t I say something similar of you and Yuta?” You ask. “Sure, right now you pretty much look just like any other human guy, but piss you off and you have soulless black eyes and smell like sulfur, give off that otherworldly aura. Mark, too. Looks like a handsome guy, but then there’s the fangs and the blood-drinking and the mind games.” You scoff, then say, “All of you are freaks. No offense.”

Ten smiles, endeared by you as he untangles his arm from his legs so he can reach over towards you. He touches your hand as he says, “Darling, I think you’re the freak in this city. You can’t do any of that stuff. Not quite demonic enough to have control of your demon powers.”

You brush his hand away. You hate that reminder of your origin. The demonic blood they claim runs in your veins. You don’t feel it there. You don’t feel anything other than human and you’re so over all of this. You can’t be part-demon; it just doesn’t make sense. You were raised in the faith, going to Church, standing on holy ground. You went through the sacraments, said prayers, received blessings. There was no pain, no burning or itching when the pastor dabbed holy water or blessed oil or sacred ash onto your forehead as he murmured words of religious power. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. 

You want to go home. You want to be able to stand in the graveyard outside of the little church. You want to live a full life with your friends, to grow a little family of your own. You don’t want to be corrupted in this city of sin, of perpetual dusk and demons. You don’t want the options of love and family to be taken away from you. You’ve enjoyed your time here, but you miss all the comforts and normality of your life before this, a human life. 

It hits you all right now. Like a big wallop to your chest, you just hold that feeling of homesickness right there in your heart. 

So for a little while, you turn your back on Ten, you cover your eyes with your hands, and you cry. And for a little while Ten doesn’t move or say anything, just listening to the soft sound of your tears falling. 

But eventually he lifts a hand, running it soothingly up and down your back. You don’t push him away. You don’t cuss him out. Because, damn it, the comforting touch really feels so good. You do like Ten. You like Yuta too. You just want things to change. You want them to not be demons, to just be normal human guys who don’t remind you of the burden of mortal sin when you look at them. 

Ten slides closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, wrapping you in a back hug, holding you against him. “I’m sorry. We can take you back. We were just trying to protect you here. That’s all we wanted.”

“I just want to go home!”

Ten nods. Holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let you go. “Yuta will be here soon. He can send you home.” Ten tucks his face against your shoulder, his breathing soft against your skin. 

Maybe it’s silly to wish to be somewhere far away, to wish that you’d never known a world like this one, to never have known the demons that are in your life. But you don’t try to pull yourself out of Ten’s arms. You let him hold you. You breathe in the scent of spice from his skin and soak in his natural demon heat. 

You don’t know how long you sit there together but eventually Ten whispers, “I’ll miss you,” and then, just like that, he’s gone. 

You curl in on yourself, crying on the sofa until a new presence makes itself known, a different heat, a different mixture of brimstone and bonfire smoke. He didn’t knock or even use the door; he just let himself in.

Yuta’s fingers are gentle when he strokes them along your cheek. “I think I know what these tears mean. Do you still want to leave?”

It’s so tempting to stay when you look at his face. His warm, gentle eyes. His touch soft on your cheek. You trust him. You like him. But WinWin’s words echo in your mind, telling you that you’re too good for this world, and that you’re better off out there.

“I’m tired of all of this shit,” you say. “I want to go home. No more monsters. You promised me—“

“I’ll take you home, pretty girl.” Yuta interrupts you, but he never looks away from your eyes. “I promised you I would if that’s what you really wanted.” He offers you his hand. 

You take it, fingers sliding across his palm, and he pulls you up from the sofa. His expression is sad, and you don’t want to leave like this, but you don’t want to stay here any longer. Yuta dries your tears with the edges of his shirt sleeve, and then he pulls you in against his chest.

The world does the now familiar trick of flashing and flickering, falling into place again. 

Yuta’s still standing there, holding you close, though now you’re back in the cemetery right in front of your parents’ graves. The night is deep around you. The air is fresh and clear in a way that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. A cool mist falls over the headstones. Everything is quiet, muffled and chilly. 

Even after Yuta pulls his arms back from around you, he clutches to your hand. Even as you look around at your surroundings, he holds on.

You’re somewhat surprised when you recognize your umbrella, resting against the headstone. It’s such a small thing, but you can’t believe you left it behind. 

“I promised I’d bring you back,” Yuta says, “like nothing ever changed. Can I just ask, is this my fault, you changing your mind? Was it because of what I said in Frozen Hell?” 

“No, Yuta.” You shake your head. “It was my decision. Though, I did run into WinWin, the werewolf again. He helped me make the decision.”

Yuta’s lips pull back from his teeth, a low hiss emanating from his throat. “Bastard.”

“Don’t.” The cool air prickles against your skin. “This was still my decision, he just listened and gave me the answer I already knew, the one that I just needed someone else to reinforce. Also, he told me that he knows you and Ten.”

 Yuta frowns. “Yeah. Kinda. He’s rather good friends with one of Mark’s close friends. We just don’t like him, but, honestly,” Yuta sighs, “He’s one of the better werewolves I’ve met. Though now, I’m second-guessing that if he’s an influence on your decision to come back here. But a promise is a promise.”

You step away from him, feeling like you’re moving through water, slow-motion, reluctant. 

Yuta lets your hand slip from his, his fingers drag against yours, holding on as long as he can, and you pick up your umbrella with the same hand that still holds the lingering heat of his.

You look back at him. “Thank you, Yuta.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement. “I don’t take lightly the promises I make. So I’ll make you another promise.”

You twist the umbrella in your hand, avoiding eye contact with him because if you look a little too close you might find a reason to head back to Hell City with him. You stare at the mud between your feet until Yuta steps closer, his clean shoes entering your line of sight. His hand covers yours on the handle of the umbrella, and you can’t push down the impulse to look up into his eyes. 

They’re the warm brown that he first showed you right here in this spot. But there’s a new depth to them that wasn’t there at that time. Emotion flickers within them, unreadable—or perhaps you just refuse to read it. You don’t want to dive into his gaze and read the hurt, the longing, the disappointment that resides right there beneath the surface. You don’t want to see your own emotions buried in there, that strange want and sense of familiarity that you’d found in the company of demons and in Hell City. 

“I promise you,” Yuta vows, holding your hand in his, “That if you change your mind, if you need help, if you miss me, if you call my name, I’ll be there.”

You shutter your heart as it reacts to his honest words. This is what you want. To be here. In the real world surrounded by humans. “That’s not going to happen.” You pull your hand away from his comforting touch. “I’m fucking done with demons and vampires and all of that. I don’t want any more to do with monsters.”

Yuta watches you, never breaking eye contact. “As if there aren’t plenty of monsters here in your world, sweet girl. Ten and I weren’t the first demons you met, and I assure you, we won’t be the last. Monsters are everywhere, in everything. We wanted to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.” You fold your arms over your chest. You’re lying to him straight through your teeth. You like the idea of feeling protected by them, but the morals and values you were raised to believe in are constantly at war with everything happening now. “I just want you to leave me alone so I can forget that you, Ten, and all of Hell City even exist.”

“Regardless, I’ll never let anything happen to you.” Yuta lifts his hand, quickly cupping the back of your head and drawing you in so he can plant a kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, my love.” 

You open your mouth to say something in response, but whatever words were going to come out are lost to the wind and the empty night. You stand facing the empty darkness of the back of the cemetery. 

He’s gone. You’re back home, all the demons and monsters left behind in a far away place. But then why do you feel so unhappy?

You trudge home from the cemetery, opening the umbrella as the mist becomes a drizzle, which soon picks up into a proper rainfall. 

It must be very late. The streets are empty, though there are a few houses who’ve left their porch lights on. But despite the late hour, you wander the long way home, enjoying the simplicity and familiarity of these streets you’ve known since childhood. You’ve been away for so long, you wonder if these streets have missed you as you’ve missed them. As you pass the dark, empty windows of the coffee shop you wonder if the usual barista has been curious about where you went. You wonder if the pastor has missed you on Sundays, or if the stray cat that camped out by the dumpster outside your apartment building had gone in search of a new friend. 

There are all of these little things and places you’re excited to get back to. No place more so than your bed. 

When you get home, you leave your umbrella to dry at the door, kick your shoes off, and sink into the familiar smell of home. You’ve missed this. Your bed. Your air freshener. Your phone. 

You’d left your cellphone at home that night when you went to the cemetery. It was probably not the smartest choice, but you didn’t like to be interrupted when you went to see your parents. You wonder how many missed phone calls and texts you’re going to have once you charge your phone up and power it on. Friends and co-workers and people wondering where you are. Judging by the lack of crime scene tape or anything, you’re assuming no one reported you missing, which is both a depressing and also curious thought. Did Yuta and Ten, through their demon powers, leave behind an excuse as to where you went? Or, for the upsetting thought, had maybe no one cared that you disappeared at all?

But when you reach your bedroom, lifting your phone from the bedside table to plug it in, the screen lights up immediately. 

No missed calls. Just a few texts from a couple of your friends who’d gone out to the bars on Halloween. And then you look at the time. 

11:59pm. 

The date: Halloween. All Hallow’s Eve. 

Like nothing ever changed. Yuta’s words echo in your mind. 

He brought you back. Right back to the moment when he and Ten took you away. 

It’s still Halloween. 

The clock ticks forward, the time changing to midnight, the date switching to the first of November. 

Maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up and you can pretend that it was all just a weird dream. 

It was anything but a dream. That, you slowly start to realize as the days pass you by. 

As much as you try to convince yourself that the time you spent in Hell City with two demons, and the nights you’d spent there in the company of your demons and a vampire and a werewolf and a whole horde of other monstrous creatures, you can’t convince yourself that it wasn’t real. 

You can’t pinpoint it, but something has changed. 

Though no time passed here, no one even knew that you were gone for weeks, there’s a distance now that wasn’t there before. 

You feel different. 

People look at you differently. 

“Are you alright?” Your best friend had asked the first time you saw her in person after Halloween. “You just look a little…. off.”

“Oh, thanks.” You’d laughed in the moment, playing it off. “I guess I just look ugly today, but I didn’t sleep well last night.”

That is a partial truth. You hadn’t slept well the night before. You’d been plagued with horrifically wonderful dreams that had deep-dived into your subconscious for material. Horny dreams of Ten and Yuta, of the werewolf WinWin, of Mark even. 

The dreams featuring the demons, those were somewhat normal. Ten waking you up in bed with fingers busy already between your legs. Yuta’s patient, teasing voice in your ear as he fills you with his cock from behind. 

But the vampire? It was unexpected for your dreams to bring Mark into the fantasies. The first was set where you’d first met him, Mark was upon his throne above the bloody orgy. He’d looked kingly, and he’d held you in his lap, down on his cock right there on the throne. Another took place in the club where you’d last seen him, in a comfy booth bathed in the eerie blue lights, his mouth stained with blood as he drinks from your throat while spreading you out on the table. 

And the werewolf WinWin you had barely known while in Hell City, but he obviously made an impact. In these dreams he’s just human, as you’d imagined him until truth reared its ugly head. In the dreams, he’s just an attractive guy at a club, choking you on his cock in some back darkened hallway, then fucking you doggy style with his hand wrapped around your throat. 

Each night you had these dreams. Each night you woke in a cold sweat at half past three in the morning, desperate to get yourself off after the action in your dreams. 

That desperation leads to going out, roping a few friends into going to a bar. You mingle, you drink, you choose a guy who kinda reminds you of Yuta when you look at him through the haze of the drink muddying your veins. You just need to take the edge off, to release some of your horniness, which is nothing different than you’d done before your adventure to Hell City. Sure, before that, you hadn’t seen action in quite a while, but now the heat in your belly refuses to be neglected. 

The guy, if he even gives you his name, comes home with you. You twist around him in the backseat of an Uber, his tongue down your throat and his hands clumsily wandering. But his touch doesn’t fill you with the same heat as Yuta’s touch, his eyes aren’t quite the same shape as Yuta’s or the same color. 

But he fucks you well enough, his hand on your throat while he tells you to call him Daddy, his cock pounding into you in uncoordinated thrusts that get you to orgasm just purely because you’re so wound up. 

He sleeps over, and in the morning you squeeze in another round with him in the shower. You have to go to work, so you can’t spend too long together, though he does offer to buy you coffee. 

You have no intention of seeing him again. In the stark light of morning, he looks nothing like Yuta while simultaneously still looking too much like the demon you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist. He walks alongside you to your favorite coffee shop, he orders his drink and pays for yours, and you forget that you’ve silently in your mind been referring to him as Not-Yuta until the barista calls out “Ji Hansol” for him to fetch your drinks. 

You can tell by the way Hansol smiles at you, by the way that his touch lingers as he hands over your drink, that he likes you. He probably would like to make this a regular thing between you. But you have no intention of that. You wave goodbye and head off to work, struggling to reconcile Hansol’s semi-familiar features with your absolute denial in Yuta’s existence. Yuta was just a dream, a pure figment of your imagination, right? Because demons and Hell City and the truth Ten and Yuta had told you about yourself had all just been some really bizarre nightmare. 

Right?

But there’s no denying that something is different the first Sunday after your return. You head to Church as always. You walk the path by the ancient willow, heading straight on to the heavy wooden doors of the Church. 

Your hands tingle as you touch the wood. You feel your breath catch in your throat as you push the door open. But you take it as excitement to finally be back here on holy ground after the unholiness you’ve lived through. 

You continue to tell yourself that even as an odd weight sinks lower in your belly with each step deeper into space. It’s what you tell yourself as you dip your fingertips in holy water, performing the sign of the cross. Your arm aches, fingertips tingling, the weight in your belly feeling hot. 

You plop down into a pew as quickly as you can, surreptitiously wiping your hands dry on your jacket, dabbing at your forehead with your sleeve. 

Weird. But you’ve been feeling a little weird. 

You disregard it until the time comes for communion. The time to receive the Eucharist, the blessed bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ. 

You curse yourself quietly in your mind as you near the head of the processing line, almost to the pastor who hands out the Eucharist with a blessing. As you watch another parishioner drink from the goblet of wine, all you can think of is Mark in that underground Hell club, his martini glass of what was almost certainly blood. Actual blood. 

The pastor places the Eucharist into your cupped palms, says the words, nodding as he looks you in the eye. His gaze slips beyond you, moving onto the next person, and you step to the side, following the same movements that you’ve been familiar with for so many  years of your life. You slip the Eucharist onto your tongue, dip your head, do the sign of the cross while facing the crucifix behind the altar, and as you turn to head back to your seat is when you feel it. 

A tightening in your throat. A burn. You feel like the small Eucharist is expanding and rough, scratching and scraping as you swallow it down. 

You’re choking on it, but you do your best to not show panic. You head straight down the aisle, and instead of turning into the pew where you’d sat before, you head straight out the doors of the nave, the main body of the Church, turning sideways into the women’s restroom. 

The small tiled room is empty and cold. The air feels still and stale, smelling of sanitizer and a dying air freshener of the floral variety. 

You make it over to the sink just in time to cough, gagging as the Eucharist dislodges from your throat. You turn the sink on, rinsing it down the drain, still coughing and spitting. You look up at your reflection, holding your mouth open to see if your throat is red and raw as it feels. 

It’s too dim in the bathroom to see anything, but the burning subsides as you cough again, spitting out the last little piece of the bread-turned-body of Christ. 

This might be a problem. 

You ignore it for the next week. Pretending everything is fine. Pretending that you didn’t have something akin to an allergic reaction to the Eucharist. Pretending that the holy water didn’t make your skin tingle, and that stepping foot on holy ground didn’t make you feel deeply uncomfortable in a physical way. 

And also you pretend that your friends aren’t avoiding you. You can’t tell if they’ve just somehow forgotten you or if they’re genuinely avoiding you. Ghosting you on plans that had been made, leaving your phone calls and messages unanswered. Then there are the strangers too. People you pass on the street that let their gaze slide away uncomfortably or the ones who stare a little too closely, like there’s something about you they don’t like. 

The only one who doesn’t treat you that way is Hansol. You bump into your one-night stand on Monday morning, and he seems excited, like at even the slightest opportunity he would love to get you back in bed. Following the oddness of Sunday at Church, you slip up and meet him over lunch that day for a quick romp in your car. There are so many pent up sexual needs that you’ve been suppressing, and you let them all out with him. You throw yourself into his eager attentions in an effort to forget the odd reactions of everyone else. 

It’s like they all view you as something strange and different. Something emanating Otherness. 

There are just odd things. 

You can’t even pretend anymore that your time in Hell City was just an elaborate dream. The world feels different around you. 

You ignore it all until the second Sunday following your return from Hell City. 

Maybe everything, last Sunday included, was just a freak occurrence. Maybe it was just because you still had the feel of Hell City inside you, that’s why your friends have been avoiding you. Maybe it’s the holidays coming up quickly that has everyone distracted, that’s why they’ve forgotten you this week. Or it could be the strange drifters, truckers, lone strangers that you’ve noticed wandering through town, that is why you’ve received odd looks from familiar and foreign faces alike. 

Maybe this week will be different. Maybe the Eucharist and holy water and the air of the Church had cured you last week, this week will be fine and you’ll pray and you’ll go out to dinner with your best friend tonight like you used to do every Sunday night. 

But the holy water tingles on your skin, a heavy weight drags in your belly. You hold the Eucharist under your tongue, suffering through the burning sensation until you return to your seat and fish a tissue out of your purse to pretend to blow your nose into as you instead pass the Eucharist into the tissue, leaving your tongue and lips burning, and you swear you taste blood. 

You linger in your pew as the Church clears out. You bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut in prayer, desperate prayers to Jesus Christ on the cross, to the Father, to the Holy Spirit. 

The parishioners pay you no mind. They pass out of the Church and mingle with the pastor and among themselves outside in the lovely November sunlight. 

You’re still there when the pastor returns, waiting for him. 

“Can I speak with you?” You ask. 

He agrees. For one thing, as a pastor, it’s part of his job to listen to people who come seeking his ear. For another, this pastor is familiar with long talks with you. After your parents passed, he was a great help in getting you through the worst of your grief, helping you find faith again. 

Maybe that’s all you need again. His helping hand in returning you to the faith. 

You follow him to his office in the back of the Church, tucked in a room behind the altar. 

You sit across from him at his desk, unsure exactly where to begin, but you start out talking about your parents. How you’d learned of their struggle to conceive when they were newly married and trying to grow a family, and from there you just drift around on the subject of your parents, diving into the topic of their strange deaths, the demonic symbols the police had found carved in their bedroom. 

The talk ends early due to him having another appointment he has to get to, but you schedule another visit with him for the following day. 

That talk goes pretty much the same. You dance around the topic you really want to talk about, slowly easing into it. You meet with the pastor frequently over the following days. He and Hansol are the only people who make you feel alive and real and acknowledged. They’re the only ones to see you. And slowly you begin to voice your concerns to the pastor about the way you feel when you enter the Church.

You’re nearly in tears when you admit to the pastor that uncomfortable feeling because truly it terrifies you. You’re constantly wondering in the back of your mind what happened to you while you were away. You didn’t do anything wrong! You avoided the lusty temptation of the demons and the monsters; you can’t help it that your imagination provides plenty. Even now, even when you are working out your sexual frustrations with Hansol, which you also confess to the pastor, your nights are still plagued with dreams of the demons, the vampire, and the werewolf too. They’re not always sexual, but they contain romantic moments and moments of general companionship that make you long for and miss the city of sin.

When you bring up your companionship with the demons to the pastor, you frame it in a way that makes it seem like it was just a dream. Just as you’ve been trying to pretend to yourself. As if you were just dreaming of demons and monsters, of their attempts to seduce you. You whisper in the quietest voice about the more intense dreams you have, and you try to ignore the utter look of disapproval that furrows his brow deeper than it had when you’d confessed to him your loose relationship with Hansol. 

The pastor listens mostly in quiet consideration of everything you say, interjecting occasionally to offer you advice, to ask questions or to offer answers when you pose a question of your own. 

But three weeks after your return to this little life of yours is when you finally feel vulnerable enough with the pastor to say, “Every time I enter the Church, it feels like I don’t belong. When I—When my skin touches the holy water it burns. I can hardly take Communion any more. It burns my tongue and lips, and if I try to swallow, I choke on it.”

Tears drip down your cheeks, your hands wringing in your lap. You’ve devolved into a nervous wreck as the weeks have gone by.

You’re questioning your sanity, if you’re being honest. 

You’re lonely, too. 

Your friends have nothing to do with you anymore. Strangers look at you like you’re vermin. You’ve quit your job. You rarely leave your apartment except to grab groceries or pick up dinner from somewhere. Hansol and the pastor are all you have. And trying to trick yourself into believing that your own memories are false is making you feel insane. It’s taking a toll on you. 

“I need help,” you beg. 

The pastor sits behind his desk, hands folded on top of it as he looks at you silently. “Yes, dear, I would say that you do need help. This all sounds very, um, concerning, to say the least. I don’t mean to frighten you when I tell you this,” he says as he rises to his feet. “But it sounds to me like a demonic possession of some sort.”

Your words catch in your throat, fingers wrinkling against the hem of your sweater. 

The pastor comes around the desk. “I have a little experience with this type of thing,” he admits. “I studied demonology during a time at the monastery. A friend of mine, he’s in town actually, visiting the diocesan bishop, he’s a certified exorcist.” 

That word sends a jolt down your spine and you sit up straight. “An exorcist?”

He nods solemnly. “Yes, dear. I—I fear that you may meet certain requirements, but I’ll go fetch him, bring him here to see you. He’s more experienced with demonic possession than I am. And if he deems you—“

“No!” You stand up, and you feel wild in that moment, but if what Ten and Yuta told you holds any truth, if you are indeed part demon, what would an exorcism do to you? Rip you in half, leaving you for dead? Would it tear that demonic part out of you, leaving you feeling  half empty for the rest of your life?

“Now, settle down.” The pastor holds his hands up placatingly, but you won’t settle down. You won’t just sit here and wait for him to bring back a man who may sentence you to a life not worth living or even death. 

“No, please! I—I’m not possessed. That’s ridiculous! Maybe I’m just manifesting physical symptoms based on psychosis or something.” You say, saying anything you can to convince him not to go searching for his exorcist friend. 

“Those symptoms you’re speaking about are very concerning. And the change in your character from how you behaved several weeks ago until now? The loosening of your morals by engaging in random sexual relations with a stranger? The dreams you’ve been experiencing as well. Even if you’re not possessed, dear, I fear that there is an attempt being made via these dreams of seduction.” The pastor backs away from you. “He’s just going to talk with you for a bit, dear. It will be alright.” His voice is level, calm, though he’s failing to calm you as he draws backwards toward the door. 

“You can’t go!” You shout, and you fling yourself at him, not quite sure what you hope to accomplish. Not that it matters because you utterly fail. 

The pastor is quicker than you gave him credit for. He reaches for the coat hooks beside the door, grabbing his stole—the long colored sash that he wears draped over his shoulders during the service. 

He moves quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides as you squirm and cry, shouting for him to let you go, trying to convince him that you’re not possessed, but apparently your actions only serve to further convince him. 

“I’m sorry, dear,” he apologies as you feel him wrap the stole tightly around your wrists, binding them behind your back. “But it’s really becoming clear that you need help.”

You cry out, squirming. “Please! It hurts! You’ve tied it too tightly!” But in truth it’s burning against your wrists, settling an unitchable itch beneath your skin. 

You twist out of his hold, trying to make for the door just behind him, but he catches your arm, and throws you to the ground. 

The air is forced out of your lungs as you hit the ground. Your chin slams against the floor, jarring your teeth together. 

You’re still gasping for breath as he drags you up from the floor, tightening the stole on your wrists before he forces you back down into the chair. The pastor walks quickly to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. You can’t see inside when he opens the doors, but you can see the fine silver chain that he draws out. You can smell the odor of incense clinging to it as he approaches you again. 

“This is for your own good, I’m afraid.” He says as he grabs your arm and lifts you from the chair, moving you over toward the wall, over to the old radiator beneath the window. “I can’t have you breaking lose, hurting yourself or hurting anyone else.”

You’re forced down to sit on the ground. He reaches around behind you, winding that fine silver chain tightly around your wrists, loosening the stole as he replaces it with these chains instead. 

And they burn even worse. Tears sting your eyes and cheeks. 

He gasps audibly as you cry out, kicking your feet on the floor frantically when you feel the chain biting into your wrists. 

“This is very serious. I hunted demons to no success in my youth,” he says, stumbling away from you once the chain is secured around your wrists, binding you to a pipe of the radiator. “I never imagined….. Whether a demon is inside you or it’s something else deeply unholy tainting you, dear, I—I’ll be back! Everything will be alright.”

“You’re going to kill me!” You cry, using the last option you have. “Please, don’t. Please, it’ll kill me.”

He shakes his head. “It’ll be okay.”

And then he’s backing away, running from the room. 

You struggle against the chains, but each move you make causes them to dig in deeper, and it sears against your skin like an iron poker fresh from the fire. You struggle until you realize you can’t possibly break yourself free. You struggle until you’re sobbing in frustration, cursing aloud and in your mind. 

For the first time, you feel utterly powerless. You wish you had some understanding or control or ability to tap into the powers that must surely be hiding in your blood if there is any truth to your partial demon heritage. You wish there was something you could do to get yourself free, but the more you struggle the more the chain bites and burns into your skin. 

For the first time in the month you’ve been back, you finally do what you’d told yourself you never would. 

You say his name. 

“Yuta!” You cry out. “Ten!” 

You call their names, screaming and shouting until your voice feels raw, and still you’re alone in this office, dreading the return of the pastor. 

And then you feel it, smell it, hear it rather than seeing anything. A shift in the air, a creak of the floor, the horribly familiar smell of sulfur. 

“What the fuck?” Ten drops to his knees in front of you. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

His hands flutter over you, checking you over for injuries. 

Yuta sinks down beside you, and you see all at once that Hansol doesn’t even begin to measure up to Yuta. There’s no comparison between them. Yuta is beautiful and handsome and a sob breaks free of you as you take in the sight of him. 

Yuta spares your face a single glance. He tries to pull you away from the radiator before he realizes that you’re chained to it. 

“Who did this to you?” Yuta asks, his voice low and dangerous. “Why did they do this?”

“The pastor!” You hiss, “I came to him about my sins, about my inability to take Communion or touch holy water any more.”

You notice Ten exchange a look with Yuta over your shoulder. Rage flares up inside you. This is all their fault! If they’d never appeared in the cemetery, if they’d never taken you to Hell, this wouldn’t be happening to you. 

“You ruined me!” You yell, and tears are streaming down your cheeks. You jerk against the bonds, but they hold tight, burning against your wrists. “You fucking ruined me!”

“Shh!” Ten hushes you, crouching in front of you, brushing his fingers to your cheeks in an attempt to dry your tears, but more keep coming. “Hold still, darling.”

Yuta curses and hisses behind you. You feel his hands on your arms, fingers prodding around the chain that you strongly suspect has been anointed and blessed for some reason. 

“It hurts,” you whine. “Hurry up!”

Ten presses his hand to the back of your head, wrapping his arm around your upper back, holding your head to his shoulder. “We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

Yuta backs away, hissing in pain. “What kind of pastor is this?”

You lift your head from Ten’s shoulder to see Yuta’s fingertips blackened and smoking, though they begin to heal right before your eyes. 

“Demon hunter,” you cry, “He said he was going to fetch an exorcist for me, believing that I’ve been tainted by something unholy.” You sniffle, feeling your rage at them drop back down to a simmer, your desire to live taking over. “What will happen to me if he brings an exorcist back?”

Ten’s fingers sharpen against the back of your head. “That’s not going to happen,” he growls, and his eyes flood with black. Turning to Yuta, he says, “Go back, get Mark or anyone that can break these bonds on her. Hurry.”

You can tell by the look on Yuta’s face he’s definitely not used to Ten telling him what to do. But he does it. There one instant and gone the next. 

“I’m sorry,” Ten apologizes. “We should have never let you come back. What happened?”

So you explain it to him. The way you’d felt ostracized and different, even around the people you’d known all your life, doing things you had once done all the time. You don’t skirt away from mentioning Hansol, at which point a muscle in Ten’s jaw twitches and his eyes flash their demonic yellow. You tell him about approaching the pastor for the first time, about the multiple talks, and finally the last talk this morning that led to this.

“You guys ruined me.” You tell him again. “I was fine before you took me there.”

“We just enhanced who you naturally are. That Otherness, the unholiness inside you.” Ten takes your cheeks in his hands. “Can’t you feel it now?”

Of course you can. It’s like a black pit in your belly, a heavy weight that settles in your gut any time you see the pastor or step foot on holy ground. If you think back really hard, you remember always having a faint feeling like that when you were growing up, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. Like a power simmering beneath your skin, waiting for a spark to light you up. 

But it’s there now, ever-present. 

“What do I do?” You ask, pulling against the burning bonds at your wrists again. “I can’t live here anymore, can I?”

Ten looks into your eyes for a long moment. “Come back with us. It’s the only place you’ll be safe. This is what we were avoiding in the first place. You’re defenseless, unaware of how to protect yourself against the powers that would come after you at the first chance. Like this pastor,” he spits the word, “and his exorcist.” Another flicker of rage across his face, quickly tamped down. 

You briefly think of Hansol. How just leaving might leave this guy you’ve developed something of a relationship with, however singularly based in sex it may be, might be alarming to him. He’s been so eagerly pursuing your affections, and in the brief moments of closeness you’ve spent after sex, he’s talked to you of going away, moving somewhere else and how he thinks you would like going away too. 

“I could just leave,” you tell Ten with a sniffle. “Not to Hell City. Somewhere else. Hansol wants to take me away.”

Again, Ten’s eyes flare yellow with emotion. “I’m sure he does. Don’t go with him. Come with us, please.”

“I miss you,” you admit, the words flying from your lips almost without thought, and you’re startled to find they are nothing but truth. “And I miss Yuta.”

Ten looks surprised but grateful. Hopeful, which isn’t an expression that you ever imagined to see on a demon’s face. “I miss you, too.”

He tips his forehead against yours. And you press yours forward. 

You sigh. “If I come back, if you and Yuta get me out of here, I don’t want to be alone.” That was all you’d asked when Yuta brought you back from Hell City. You just wanted to be alone to forget them, but not anymore. You know that now, sitting here in front of Ten. You don’t want to be alone and you don’t want to feel powerless any longer. You don’t want to deny yourself what you’ve wanted all along. 

“You won’t be alone,” Ten vows. His eyes close, his nose touches yours. “We are getting you out of here, darling, I swear that to you on my black soul.”

You tilt your head, allowing yourself just the briefest kiss, a ghost’s touch of your lips against Ten’s. A seal on his promise. 

This time, when they get you out of here and take you back to that ragged city of Hell, you won’t hold back. You won’t force down your hungers and wants; you’ll let your desires run rampant. You’ll embrace the demon side of you, learn everything they have to teach you. 

“Here, hurry!” 

Yuta bursts back into existence, his voice preceding him by a millisecond, and then he’s right there, crouching down in front of you beside Ten, shoving a figure at you. 

The other man slams into your side by accident, knocking you off balance, but reaching out to steady you. You can’t see his face as he twists around behind you. His fingers are hot against your wrists, twisting at the bonds. 

“Him?” Ten hisses. “You brought him?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Ten,” Yuta says, “And he was the first person I saw.”

Ten stands up, rocking onto his feet, a growling hiss rolling from behind his teeth. 

“He owes her to get her out of this mess!” Yuta shoots upright as well, staring down Ten as Ten glares at the man who is behind you, slowly but surely loosening the bonds around your wrists. “Are you really going to complain about who I found to save her?”

You feel a snap, and you cry out in pain as the bones in your left hand and wrist break. 

“Sorry!” The man behind you grunts under his breath, groaning as he twists at the bonds. “Almost there!”

Pain radiates through your wrist and hand, lancing through your head as your liberator maneuvers your broken hand through the chains. 

Yuta is the one that scoops your head against his chest, lowering his lips to your ear, trying his best to comfort you. 

Distantly, you hear the sound of the Church’s heavy double doors opening. 

“He’s back!” Your voice is tight with pain and fear, and Yuta holds you tighter. The man behind you moves faster to free your second hand, and you pray he doesn’t break this one too, but your prayers no longer hold any meaning to the God you once prayed to. 

Your other wrist snaps as easily as the first. 

You bite down on Yuta’s shoulder to muffle the pain, and he hisses as your teeth break skin. But it helps you to some degree. 

The last bit of your damned bondage slips away. You fall fully against Yuta’s chest. 

Voices are approaching the office door, and you can feel the righteous anger emanating from both of your demon protectors, but you lift your head from Yuta’s shoulder, and through blurry tears and with a pain-drunk voice, you look up at Ten and Yuta and beg, “Just get me out of here.”

Yuta’s arm goes tight around your waist as he hauls you to your feet right as the door to the office slams open. 

For a moment everyone stands frozen staring at each other. The pastor stares at the two demons with their arms around you and their eyes like the blackest night. They stare right back at him. But your eyes are on the exorcist that stands just behind the pastor with the all too familiar face of Hansol. 

The world squeezes tight around you, flickering in and out of existence before fading entirely to black.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: thank you so much for reading! Chapter five will be posted next Sunday, as usual, but in the mean time I really want to hear what you all think so far! I know not a whole lot has really happened, but any thoughts, questions, theories, or things you hope will happen please let me know! thank you 💗

[im-out-of-it]

season 1, episode 2 list of more stupid thoughts

1. I don’t see why clary doesn’t ever tell Jace to not talk to her supposed bff the way he does. I’m sorry but if you’re talking to MY friend that way, I’m calling your ass out. but she probably thinks he’s “got a sense of humor” or whatever

2. when Izzy says “it’s not good for any of us” YES IZZY! the fact that clary and Simon think the cup only involves clary lmao

3. yes Simon and clary are naive but they’re informed what happens if the cup goes into the wrong hands but clary’s only concern here is her mother

4. I wish they would empathize how VALUABLE AND IMPORTANT the mortal cup truly is. because they’re like it’s the most powerful cup but they only really state so far what it would mean for shadowhunters. like it literally affects everyone

5. I like the technology they have and it actually makes sense to me. probably makes fighting demons in a way easier and locating enemies. it’s still funny to me that CC later tried making fun of it in TDA

6. Izzy is making Simon blush 24/7 which is valid because she’s gorgeous 🥰

7. Alec seems to be the only one concerned that they have a mundane in the institute. aren’t they supposed to be protecting them and making sure they don’t know of the supernatural world? this is one of the reasons why Simon gets turned into a vampire

8. also Izzy is such a true friend. there’s no competition and she is super nice to clary. she makes sure clary feels accepted and that she is comfortable there. honestly Izzy is too nice in my opinion

9. and I would’ve been down for an Izzy + clary pairing. I can’t stand clary but with Izzy’s presence? maybe she could be better

10. “I don’t care what the clave or you wants”- clary to Alec. showing that she doesn’t care about any of their rules and how things are run, as long as she gets her way. tells Alec my name is not little girl yet you’re throwing fits when you don’t get your way.

11. I don’t think Alec gets enough credit for putting up with clary. GIVE THIS MAN A RAISE

12. literally laughable that Dot is like hElP mE mAgNuS sO wE cAn SaVe JoCeLyN. what has she or other shadowhunters done for Magnus and the warlocks? does dot even realize how much all the downworlders and especially warlocks are in danger? but it’s all Jocelyn clary Jocelyn!!! (EVERYONE IS AFFECTED BY THE CUP)

13. I don’t know if it’s me, but the way clary walks and just acts in this episode is so cringe

14. Magnus is a whole mood in this episode

15. I don’t think many really get what this means for alec to have jace chasing clary. Jace is doing all the things he’s never and would never do for alec. no wonder alec is hurt, upset, and having to clean up after his and clary’s messes

16. Luke isn’t alpha yet but I hate that he’s going to be. he’s a terrible leader and he acts as though the wolves don’t exist.

17. “It literally never stops talking” I love an annoyed Alec

18. I don’t see why Simon is there in the first place. Clary blames Izzy and Alec but why is Simon there? once again, it can be pinpointed back to clary of all the stuff that Simon practically goes through. because let’s take the mundane to some graveyard with some skeleton scratched out men because what’s the worst that can happen?????

19. Alec isn’t being that outrageous when he finds out that clary’s father is Valentine. she comes out of nowhere, makes them go on stupid missions, so why wouldn’t he be concerned?????? how are they all supposed to trust her? THEY DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER.

20. adding on- the outsiders are usually the ones with the agenda. Sebastian comes in with an agenda and he’s an outsider so it’s really not that alarming if clary was doing the same. she’s done absolutely nothing to gain Alec or the claves trust. I don’t like the clave but they do have rules for a reason. but jace can’t see that because “she’s lost everything like me” yet he has Alec and Izzy and Maryse but let’s just ignore all the people who have supported you for the past ten years

21. lastly clary blaming shadowhunters for Simon getting kidnapped is comical. he shouldn’t have been there!!!!!!! instead of taking accountability and being like I should’ve made him stay home and never introduced him to all of this- she goes on and blames Izzy and Alec. THEY ARE NOT BABYSITTERS. only been two episodes and I have a migraine because of her lmao

thanks for joining I forget the club name and criticizing shadowhunters but love show Malec meeting. let’s see what number we get for our next meeting ✨alec gif because he is THE MOOD

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hey Aerie! Did someone really just fucking stole an idea from you??? Wtf I'm mad about this.

If you don't want to talk about the werewolf (!!!!!!) Neil au bc of that I totally understand, but I would also listen if you'd talk about it! (I'm maybe a little bit feral about werewolves... I know you like vampires a lot ;-) but I am a slut for werewolves...)

I hope you are asleep right now but have a great day when you read this!! Love you <3

Unfortunately I was not asleep when I got this last night. Lol. It was 2am and I had just laid down. :') <3333 But I love you! <33 Also omg werewolves were my shit when I was younger, then somehow it swapped to vampires? :'))

Also if you want I'll tell you about the 'fic-stealing incident'. It was really annoying but it all worked out and I will now be writing it for the Paranormal Fic Fest instead. YAY! So nothing truly terrible happened but it was stressful and annoying at the time.

Beware: super long ramble under the cut. Unless you're Cody c-lion you probably don't wanna open that. :'))

The reason I never talked about this on my blog is because I figured somehow people would think I was in the wrong and send me mean shit. :') But what happened was... I signed up for the big bang again this year.

I wasn't going to because last year my artist partner literally disappeared and the mod didn't bother to tell me they dropped until I asked if they could check on them. But I figured I'd try again anyhow. So I came up with two ideas. (One being demon neil, which I submitted for the bang. And the other was werewolf neil, which I am SO insane about.)

I wrote outlines for both and decided to use the demon neil one. Then I got my partner assigned and they... Hardly ever responded. I mean, I answered them within minutes. It would take them several days to reply. Every single time. Then it got to a point where they just didn't answer at all for two whole weeks. I figured they were ghosting me, like last year.

They message me the day before the check-in and ask if the art idea (that I suggested) would be alright. Like. They hadn't started at all. I hadn't either, since they had disappeared. I didn't answer. Instead I told the mod I was dropping. And they said they would have another writer write my fic for me. Like...

Uh... It's the first check-in. The artist hasn't done shit yet. Why on earth would you give my fic to someone else? Like normally, this might not have been a problem. If I had been really vague with my idea. But when I wrote out my prompt I gave a lot of detail. I thought the more the better, so the artists would know what they would be working with. However...

Since I gave so much detail, they would've been writing My Fic. Not just a random au where Neil happens to be a demon. I mean I gave a simplified version of the plot? So. That would've been so suckish. But I explained to the mod that I wanted to keep my idea and they said they'd reassign the artist to a different writer instead.

So everything worked out in the end. But I was very, very upset when it was happening. Like... I had a bit of a panic attack. Which sounds stupid I guess. But I had planned this all out and I was in love with it. You don't kidnap a baby and hand it to some rando? TwT (My writing is all I have. I'm aware that it's sad, but it is true.)

Anyhow! I won't be doing a random partner event ever again because the last two have sucked. :')) (This is no shade to the mods or anything. I get it must be hard to run stuff. But partners disappearing and stuff... Sucks major ass. I don't wanna have to depend on a random stranger for a partnered thing.)

The first bang I ever did was amazing! It was for a different fandom, back in like 2017. But the partner I had for that was awesome and really sweet. We were friends for a while afterwards. So I guess my expectations were too high I guess? :')

But yeah! That was all that went down. Nothing terrible in the end. I just got very autistic-ly upset about my baby almost being snatched. (My friend's dms were... full of me blubbering about it:')) That being said! I will definitely have to come and talk about werewolf neil at some point! (And... maybe... add him to wipw... Eventually...)

If you read this far you're a saint. I love you! <3 Muah.

[burningflamescurse]

“Whispers of the Past.” [2]

Dean Winchester x Fem!OC

Series Summary: A Case gone wrong years ago for Evelyn and her old hunting team has Haunted her for years, the horrors of that fateful day still engrained into her mind; Meeting the Winchesters was just some slither of hope for Evelyn, distracting her from her own bloody Past. That is, Until one day her old mentor's Partner calls her up and mentions that someone is killing off the rest of the members from Evelyn's old Hunting Team, she feels the memories pooling back into her mind and she is forced to recount everything that she just tried so hard to forget to the two people she trusts the most.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, OC's.

Chapter Summary: After Madi Drops the Bombshell that Chris is Miraculously Still alive after falling off a 13 Foot Cliff Drop, and that he is Killing off the Rest of their old Hunting team, Evelyn Tries to Sneak away from the boys to take care of the Situation before they Find out her big Secret.

CW//TW: mentions of Murder, mentions of Insanity, mentions of mental disorders, mentions of Child abuse, Past Child abuse, Past Mentions of Grooming, Kidnapping, torture, Murder, mentions of Ghosts and a Vampire Nest, panic attacks, Nightmares, flashbacks, Hallucinations, Obvious relationship between Dean and my OC, concussion, head wound, visions, Convulsions, Evelyn murders someone, mentor OC goes insane, drugging, the Police think Evelyn murdered some of her teammates, Dean Defends Evelyn, Evelyn and Sam are best friends.

A/N: Credit for the Header goes to @valeska-25

“He’s Alive?”, Evelyn’s Voice echoed through the phone in disbelief, “Madi, How? he fell off a Thirteen Foot drop.” her voice was Bordering Concern and Fear, no one Human could Survive all of those Jagged Rocks on the way Down; Madi let out a Shaky Sigh, “It’s weird, when I saw him he had no wounds whatsoever.”

“He must have missed all those Jagged Rocks on the way down and Hit the water, Swam to the Surface.” Madi said; now that was Pure Luck with how Insane and Scared Chris was at the time of that Incident. “He Must still have the after Effects of that Demon within him, Otherwise he wouldn’t have Gone after the old Team.” Evelyn Voiced her thoughts on the situation, She Received an agreeable him on the other end of the Phone.

“I agree with you Lyn, I’ve Collected the Remaining Members of the Hunting team, right now There’s only eight of us left; We’re hiding down at the Safehouse.” Madi Explained, Evelyn Remembered that Old Safehouse, Chris had Introduced it to her when he first took her in and was Training her. “That’s good, you all need to Steer Clear of that Hunting Ground we were on during the Incident, he’ll probably Search there first.” Evelyn Remarked.

There was a Stagnant Pause for a Minute.

“Lyn, I’m concerned about you though.” Madi said, her soft tone almost made Evelyn wanna cave and tell Her exactly where she was; but that would only risk her life and the Winchester Brothers’ lives. “Don’t worry about me.” she spoke quickly and ended the call before Madi could Protest.

Evelyn Went over to her desk, Pulling Out an Old Map of the Hunting Grounds from that Night. She looked at the area’s She had Circled in Previous Research of the area, She was going to have to sneak out without alarming Both Sam and Dean, She Didn’t need them Involved in her Shady and bloody past.

So Evelyn Started packing a Bag, Filling it with her Weapons and the Most Important things before Grabbing her heavy Jacket because in that area of Kansas it was specifically cold and snowing, she Quickly Left a Written note to Dean, Apologizing for what she had to do now; and then she Unlocked the latches of her window and Hopped out.

And then She Just Started Running.

←←→→

Dean and Sam found her note an Hour after she Snuck out, Reading the Contents of it made Dean’s Heart Clench Painfully for Evelyn.

‘Hey boys, I know you must be super confused Reading this, but I trust that you’ll trust me to do this on my own; I have to do this, There are things about my past that I haven’t told you, Dark and Bloody things. Now I know this probably won’t keep you guys away, because both of you are Stubborn as hell; but If you do follow me, Just know that I am sorry for everything that you’re about to find out.’

Of course as Expected, Dean Proposed the Idea to Track her down and Follow her wherever she was going off in Such a hurry; Even though Sam was Hesitant because it sounded like She wanted to do this alone, he agreed because She also might be heading into Danger.

So they Both Started Searching Evelyn’s Room, Sifting through all of Her Obviously Personal Belongings.

Finally Dean found the map that you had Haphazardly tried to hide in your Clothes Drawer, he Pulled it out looking at the spots you had Circled. “Hey Sam, Over here. I found something.” He called Sam over.

She were heading for your Old Hunting Grounds, Which she had mentioned in some Drunken Stories completely by accident.

Sam Noticed her Unlatched Window, “And it looks like she’s Going there by foot.” Sam Noted.

“Well let’s Jump in baby, and get over there now.” Dean said, he wanted to get to Evelyn Fast before anyone bad did.

←←→→

Evelyn had made it Halfway by the Evening, the sun Just setting, she was sure both Dean and Sam had already Started on the way to these old Hunting Grounds with the Impala.

She Internally Snorted at how stubborn the Two were, always Causing Trouble.

Evelyn Settled Down at a couple of Trees to stop for the night, if she kept going like this she’d only Burn herself straight to Exhaustion and never reach the hunting Grounds, fortunately she found it pretty easy to fall asleep.

Already tired from the Day’s Events, Her Eyes slipped closed and She fell into a Deep Slumber using her bag as a pillow.

“Now Hold it Steady, Lyn. Don’t mind the Kickback, I’ll catch you kid.” Chris’ Voice Flowed through the cold air, a younger Version Of Evelyn Pointing a Gun at a Target Painted onto a Tree, he was currently teaching her how to fire off a Gun correctly and have Perfect aim. Evelyn was Nervous, but she Slowed her Breathing closing her eyes for a Solid Minute, Calming her racing Heart.

Bang!

Evelyn had Shot a Bullet from the Gun so Smoothly, Seeming so easy to do, even Chris was Impressed with her Output. “Damn Kid, I knew you had Potential in you. You’re a Damn good Shot.” Chris Praised her, Evelyn practically beamed at the Praise not even noticing Madi right behind her who had a Proud Smile Plastered on her face, seeing Her as the child she never had the chance of having.

Once again though, the Seemingly Perfect and happy Memory was Changing again, the sky Turned into a Blood Red once more as Chris’ Eyes Turned Black like a Demon’s eyes; his Voice was Strangled And Gravely, a wound was open in his neck, in the shape of a bite wound from a Demon; his Vocal cords torn and Ripped half way out of his Throat. “You’ll never be able to save him, Evelyn. He Belongs among us now, your Precious Mentor is a Demon.” the Voice hissed.

“And it’s all your fault.” the Voice said once more before it let out a Horrible snarl, Lunging at Evelyn Just about to bite into her—

Suddenly Evelyn Launched awake again, Sweat rolling down her face. Another Nightmare, once that changed her happy Memories again; Evelyn looked up realizing it was Early in the morning, it was time for her to get to walking again; She didn’t know if the boys were Close to her yet.

Evelyn Gathered her things and kept on Marching Straight through the cold Ground, her boots Crunching as She did so, the smell of the old Hunting Grounds nearby always Brought back Simpler times back to her, when Chris was just her Friendly Mentor, before Everything went down.

And She didn’t just mean when the Demon Screwed with his head, she had always Sensed something a little off with Chris, Always being Close to her, having his wife teach Hailey Instead Of Teaching her Himself, Chris almost demanded to be close to Evelyn every second of Every Day; Had Evelyn Just Listened to Lucas’ Warnings she would of Realized that Chris had Been Grooming her the Entire time.

It made her sick to her stomach to remember that every sweet praise that left his lips was just to get her closer to him, he couldn’t go one day without being close to Evelyn, or Touching her.

Evelyn shook her head, Ridding herself of that Horrid Memory that was stuck in her brain; she Tried to focus on something else but Her brain Couldn’t help but go into another Flashback.

“You’re so Pretty Lyn, you know that?” Chris had said one day while coming into her Private room, while she was trying to sleep; Evelyn didn’t know what to think, she was still a Teenager who was Vulnerable at this moment. “So much prettier than my wife.” he added, Sitting on the edge of her bed.

Evelyn was Pulling the Covers closer to her chin, Chris was acting weird, he wasn’t usually like this. Chris Chuckled, Using his hands to Snatch the Blanket Right from her body Revealing her in a nightgown; Evelyn Swore she heard Chris Growl right then.

“Do you always have to be so Tempting, Darlin’?” What was he Talking about, when Had she ever Been Tempting anyone; how was a Teenager Tempting him with anything at all, Chris shouldn’t even be Tempted by this at all. “God, I bet you want it too, Don’t ya?” he asked, his Hand Reaching To Touch Evelyn’s Upper Thigh before Madi Busted through the Door.

“Chris, What the hell are you doing!” She screeched, Mortified at what she was seeing, Her Stomach Curling In disgust at the Sight, “Get your Disgusting hands off of that Girl!” she yelled, Dragging him off by his hair, roughly letting go causing Chris to Bash his head against the wall. Madi gave Evelyn a soft, caring look as she covered her back up.

The only Thing Evelyn saw through teary eyes was Madi Dragging her Husband by his hair.

Once again Evelyn Shook the memory again, She doubted Chris Ever Loved her like a Daughter; he only Felt Sexual Things for Her.

Evelyn’s Thoughts were Interrupted When She heard Two Pairs of Footsteps barreling Right towards her, before she could turn around someone Wrapped their arms around her and Tackled her to the Ground, she was Twisted around to See it was Dean Straddling her.

“Can’t Outrun us, Sweetheart.” Dean Said, with a Smirk Plastered on his Face, Meanwhile Sam was Rolling his eyes at Dean’s Obviously Childish behavior.

Evelyn Shoved Dean Off of her before Standing up, “You Guys Can’t be here, you’re gonna Put everyone in danger!” she hissed at them, Swatting Dean’s Hands away from her face.

Before Dean Or Sam Could ask her Who she was Talking about, a familiar female Voice was Heard a few feet in front of them.

“Lyn, are these those Winchester Boys you were talking about?” they all turned to see it was Madi Who was talking, Still alive and well.

Evelyn Glanced back to see Dean and Sam looking at her with Arched Eyebrows, as She Awkwardly chuckled.

She had a lot of Explaining to do.

«»

Madi Gratefully led them to the Safehouse, if the Winchester Brothers were Out here now in their Old Hunting Grounds, then it was safe to say Chris was going to make them a Target as well, Sam and Dean Didn’t argue with Madi seeing as it would be no use since Madi was a mother Hen.

Stepping into the Old Abandoned Cabin, Evelyn saw the rest of her old Hunting Team, Gathered together amongst a few Children as well, they were cuddled up to a Couple of the Adults who were keeping them cozy and warm.

The first one to remember Evelyn was a young Adult named Lana, Who immediately charged at Evelyn, Hugging her tight. “Lyn! You came back!” She Screeched With Happiness; Evelyn Returned the Hug, rubbing Lana’s back as she did.

“Yeah I did, I’m making sure You’re all safe.” She said, Lana was the Newest member of their old Hunting Group, after the incident Madi wanted to keep the team going, possibly train younger members who wanted to be Hunters without the Trauma that Chris would always Project onto his ‘Students.’ Madi would Always send letters from Lana.

“Who are they?” Lana asked, motioning towards Dean and Sam who were just standing Awkwardly at the Cabin Door, Dean had a Look of Slight Betrayal on his face while Sam had that Same Puppy Dog look in his eyes staring at the young Hunters and Children all gathered around the fire. Evelyn gave Lana a smile, Perhaps it was time for her family to meet the two most Important Guys in her life.

“Well the Big tall Guy is Sam Winchester, He’s My best friend; I would Trust him with my life if I had to.” She Responded, Smiling back at Sam before moving on to Introduce Dean. “And this is Dean, my best friend and my Absolutely lovable Boyfriend; I would also Trust him with my life.”

“Wow, you have a boyfriend now? Shocker.” Someone else, with a Cold Mannered Voice said from the corner of the room in the Darkness; a Woman with Straight black hair tied up in a Ponytail and Snake Green eyes.

Evelyn Immediately Recognized her, one of her Rivals; and She Recognized her on a Personal level. The woman’s name was Blaire Thompson, same Age as Evelyn.

Chris’ Niece.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

you’re genuienly one of my fav writers! may I request the seduce me brothers with an s/o that’s a vampire? or some other supernatural being?

AHH OMG AM I REALLY? THANK YOU SO MUCH THAT ACTUALLY MEANS SO MUCH TO ME OMG 😪😪🫶🫶 i love you forever, Thank you so much for your request!! I hope you enjoy it!! I also decided to include what type of vampire they are. EX: taking inspo from Draculara from Monsrer High, or the Cullens in Twilight!

Warnings: death, blood drinking, implied smut,

Navigation!!! // Masterlist!!!

James:

You’re a regular vampire ( Dracula Coded )

He could sense it off of you, it was painfully obvious you were hungry

It was pretty dark out, and the club he was in was equally as dark

You don’t approach anyone, but others do approach you

You’re noticeably older, but not by much, maybe late 20’s early 30’s

In human years…

James decides to go over to you, what’s the worst that can happen? everything

Luckily for him you recognize that scent, and after a few drinks you’re both off to some cheap hotel room

It starts with a one night stand, one James usually doesn’t do, but you draw him in so easily it’s hard to resist

He doesn’t let you go, he refuses too

You two sneak off into small alleyways, hidden in the shadows where you’re safe

Usually if you ever go out it’s with an umbrella or long sleeve

rainy days with you are perfect for him >>

likes going to blood parties with you, which is just a fancy dance vampires have every few months

he’s seen you drink blood, he doesn’t partake in it, but he does feel better knowing you aren’t hungry

doesn’t condone you hunting humans but also doesn’t try very hard to stop you so ;)

Erick:

( Victorian Vampire )

Met at a demon ball

He was HOOKED when he saw you

He thought you were drinking wine until he saw how much it stained your lips and cup

He’s naturally flirty, and so are you

You two talk for hours about other worldly food is so much better than human food

He’s so sad when you leave :( but he gets excited when you appear in a library the next day

Cue him finding out you can travel through shadows and paintings ?!?!?!

Thinks it’s so cool and absolutely asks you out on a date

you go to a rave party when he watches you hunt

he’s in love

he helps you hide the body

he’s gonna marry you

Sam:

( Twillight based )

He met you on the bus …

not the most romantic but it was late at night and you were hungry

he watched you devour the bus driver

Of course you didn’t try to attack him but you acted like everything was normal afterwards

just casually started talking to him with blood all over you and he’s like ??? bitch wtf but like in a hot way

pulls the “ so you have plans later?” knowing damn well you don’t

you two end up having a one night stand, and the strength battle between you two is steamy ~

he does see you again though, it’s on his way home from work

he sees a dead body, he also sees you, he now sees nothing wrong and dismisses the complaints of noise, who ever knew? not him that’s for sure

you two hunt imps or animals a lot, you make a game out of it

he likes that you can be outside with him

shine bright like a diamond

Matthew:

( Draculara coded )

met at a bakery

you wanted a cupcake and Matthew asked if you needed help with balancing the cupcake and holding your umbrella together

it’s 80 degrees out

when you hand him the umbrella you step in the shade, and he follows slightly

you make small talk with him and he tells you he’s on the hunt to try all the bakery’s in the city to find the best cupcakes

you tell him the best bakery burnt down in 1857 and he’s like … come again?

he knew you weren’t human but vampire was not what he was expecting

panicked and thought you were gonna bite him

you did not bite him

he likes that you’re vegan though

at least you two can eat together, as long as it’s inside and not with a lot of sunlight through the windows

probably the most cautious about blood being around you

Damien:

( psychic vampire )

he actually loves that you can communicate telepathically

you also help with his headaches which he really appreciates

you two met under a bridge

he saw you kill someone and was like um… no thank you !!

but he did decide to give you a chance, he’s seen enough death one by a pretty vampire wouldn’t hurt

probably cuts himself on purpose for you

you don’t take the blood because you know it wasn’t an accident

he calms your bad behavior sometimes, messing with people’s minds and stuff

you help get rid of his mind reading powers

he loves you forever >>

[eternalchiyo]

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 ~𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂 09~

Summary: Guineapigs and snakes.

Word Count: 1767

“I don’t think this is a good idea!” the girl said.

Shuu for some reason had decided to introduce his new secret friend to the Vampire court. Or rather, he invited Edgar to one of the balls at the Sakamaki castle.

Before, Shuu used to disappear for the whole day, coming back all dirty or out of breath. What was worse, was that he refused to tell her at first; it was only after Reiji had discovered Shuu was playing with a human child, that Shuu was willing to tell her the truth as well. She couldn’t help but feel betrayed to some extent. She thought their bond was special.

Not only did he choose to keep it a secret from her, but it was also a human child of all things! Why would he choose him over her?

The thought filled her with so much anger, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Would he forget about her completely? She didn’t want Reiji to be right!

Chiyo could feel her heartbeat uncomfortably in her chest. Another thing reminding her just how out of place she was here. Her heart beating like the one of a human, not as delicately as the one of a Vampire, her pulse too quick, too loud. It pained her ears.

It felt disgusting. Humans were so disgusting!

“He showed me part of his world as well! I just wanted to do something in return for him. I told you because I thought I would have your support,” Shuu answered.

He seemed upset.

Chiyo pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’m not going to tell on you,” she said, “but I don’t like this. I don’t want to help you get one of them inside the castle.”

People would probably catch on quick. Humans had a distinct smell; she knew from experience. People in the castle hated her smell as well, and there was always someone who had to point it out to her. She was an outsider, no matter where she went. Not human, not quite Vampire as well. Even if lately most of the talking behind her back quieted down, since she started using a special demonic fragrance that her father, who was working closely with King Karlheinz in a place called the pharmaceutical department, provided for her. She assumed this is how he got access to the resources needed for something like that, although he probably did not do it out of his sheer love for her. He himself must have been part of the aristocrats’ gossip. A man with his strange half-blood daughter, human mother long gone from this world.

Despite her protests, Shuu ended up bringing the boy along. He lent him some of his clothes, so he would blend in better. He probably thought most of the guest would assume he was some servant boy.

Chiyo did not dare approach them. She felt really lonely as she observed the two boys from the other end of the ballroom.

“Disgusting, don’t you think?”

Chiyo turned around and to her surprise found Reiji standing next to her. He usually made it a point to ignore her at official events. In private he tried to keep their interactions to a bare minimum. He didn’t hide his dislike of her, so him seeking out a conversation for everyone to see felt strange.

“He always had crazy ideas, but this beats all of them, certainly. Bringing a human to one of our festivities? And mother does not even care,” he said.

Of course, Reiji wouldn’t like it; he disapproved of everything his older brother did while he himself got no recognition for his efforts. Neither did Chiyo though, so who was she to judge in this situation. She might have not liked Reiji, but she had to agree with him on this point. This scenario was crazy.

The girl’s attention shifted back towards Shuu. She saw him clearly looking at her, a look of betrayal on his face. He probably got the wrong idea about her talking to his younger brother, of course he would. And she couldn’t even fault him for that.

“Yeah… I don’t really like this either,” she said carefully, trying not to give Reiji any more things to use against her or Shuu.

“Well, then… don’t you think we should get rid of him?”

Chiyo slept horribly that day. Luckily for her there was no school for them the next day and she was free to lock herself up in her room. Yui would occasionally come up and knock on her door, trying to understand what was wrong, but Chiyo refused to let her in.

Whenever she fell asleep, the cursed scenes from her past resurfaced. They were as vivid as ever; she was actually surprised how well she remembered what had happened.

She put her arm over her eyes and forehead and let out a bitter laugh. If she believed in God, she’d think this was him getting back at her. Like this, it was just really ironic.

Before she knew it, Monday rolled around again and she was forced to attend classes again, or at least pretend to. Chiyo had no intention of attending any lessons, so she took some of the essays that she collected before with her. Since she now tried to avoid the library at any cost, and the music room was basically Shuu’s territory, she had to make do with one of the more secluded staircases. Not ideal but she’d live.

Soon she was immersed in the text before her. A few key words caught her attention: Demon, hybrid beast, Adam’s first wife.

She highlighted them with her pen.

Suddenly, she remembered the strange dream from the day of the car crash.

“Lilith… why did you leave Adam?”

Adam…

The only person that she would ever consider that she actually left would be Shuu. If the strange person from her dream called her Lilith, then would that make Shuu Adam? But why?

This made absolutely no sense at all.

She ran her hand through her hair and groaned in frustration. This was leading nowhere.

“I didn’t know you fancied biblical topics that much.”

There it was again, that uncomfortable cold feeling; Ruki. Chiyo gathered her things and stood from her spot on the stairs, intent on avoiding this man.

“Hold on a second, will you?”

Chiyo stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes. She hated herself for even listening to him in the first place. Either way, she turned around to face him.

“Don’t run away,” Ruki said, “I don’t have any ill intentions towards you.”

She eyed him suspiciously. However, he did not make a move forward, but simply stood there, leaning against the railing. Looking at her with his steel-grey eyes.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

Ruki seemed to consider his next words carefully before he spoke up.

“I suppose you could say I am trying to start over? We didn’t really get to know each other on the best of terms.”

“Certainly. You tried to kill me in a back alley, in case you need a memory refresh,” she said.

Ruki made a step towards her, and she made one back. He sighed.

“I suppose you have a reason to distrust me.”

Chiyo’s grip tightened around the pages in her hands. She could not wrap her head around this person. Her life taught her to be wary of everyone that came into her life, but was this really the way to go here? What were his true intentions? Maybe he was genuinely trying to start over.

 “There is nothing else that you want from me? Really?” Chiyo asked.

Ruki came a little closer again, only this time Chiyo did not flinch away. Ruki’s face was still unreadable. He knew how to erase every tell.

“I suppose…” he said and raised his hand slowly to her face. She inhaled and followed his gesture with her eyes. Ruki’s hand went past her cheek and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. Chiyo could feel her heartbeat quicken and her face grow hot as her breath hitched in her throat.

Why was he being so gentle suddenly?

“…for every Lilith there is also a snake.”

Chiyo barely registered what he said to her, so mesmerized she was by him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

“Oh my? And what do we have here?”

Chiyo’s head spun around, startled but also grateful in a sense. Who knows what could have happened had Reiji not interrupted them.

Chiyo exhaled. Only now she realized that she was holding her breath all this time.

“So this is how we finally meet, Ruki Mukami,” he said.

Ruki did not step away from Chiyo and it made her uncomfortable being seen like that by Reiji.

“I believe introductions are not needed by now, Reiji Sakamaki. You’re doing an excellent job, having your familiars spy on us already,” Ruki said.

Reiji’s face slipped into a slight frown for a split second, but he quickly regained his composure. He was about to say something when Ruki beat him to it.

“Well, it looks like I have overstayed my welcome here. If you’ll excuse me,” he gave Reiji a curt nod, “Let’s continue our conversation another time, little guineapig,” he said to Chiyo, before leaving her alone with Reiji.

She watched Ruki retreat, elegant as ever, like some sort of demonic black cat.

“Care to tell me what this was supposed to be about? Conspiring with the enemy?” he suddenly asked.

Chiyo had no idea herself. The idea that Ruki could have genuine interest in her felt strange, she wasn’t sure if her own mind was playing tricks on her or if her apprehension was justified anymore. And what did he call her? ‘Little guineapig’?

“I don’t have time to wait for your answer all night,” Reiji said, the annoyance in his voice clearly audible.

Chiyo sighed. “Of course I am not conspiring with anyone, I don’t even want to be here.”

Was Ruki really an enemy? She wondered.

“Did you at least find out anything of importance?” he asked.

Technically she did find out a little bit. Ruki seemed to know more about this whole Lilith charade, but since Chiyo never brought it up in the first place, she might as well know nothing new, so she shook her head no.

“Disappointing, but I am not really surprised by that, “ he said, “In any case, we should make haste and get home, this stench on you is unbearable already.”

[apoptoses]

Trying to escape all the Devil’s Minion hate I’ve seen around here and Twitter (apparently Armand never really loved Daniel, he’s only a footnote in his life, didn’t really have an impact on him or his character development, etc.) by coming to your blog and reading your asks. I truly have no idea how/when/how this influx of hate started (was it the sh*w? It was probably the sh*w) but I just want to tell you I’m so glad you’re around posting fantastic Devil’s Minion content constantly, keeping us fed. Dark times lie ahead and we need to remain strong 🤧

So there's a couple things at play, but first off-

We have like 50 pages of them together in total through all the books. Everyone has different reads on characters/events, people are free to interpret stuff how they want.

However there is a strange and very vocal handful of people who seem to have an agenda to push about Armand and Daniel in specific. I don't know why, I don't know what kind of projection is going on, but they like to insist that Daniel secretly hates Armand and Armand was actually an abusive demon 24/7 and there was never any love between them.

Which if that was just their personal read, whatever. But they run around insisting that this is canon, this is fact, this is what Anne intended and anyone who thinks to the contrary is wrong and needs their ass jumped.

But that's just like, their opinion, man. Nobody has to listen to these people. They are not experts on the secret intentions of Anne Rice. They do not have any info which you, anon, would not also have access to.

The facts are that Armand said he loved Daniel, Daniel said he loved Armand, Daniel begged for eternity with Armand. In the end of the series he went hunting with Armand and moved back in at Trinity Gate. They had fights over the blood when Daniel was mortal and Daniel resented Armand at times for not making him a vampire (but wanted to become a vampire in the end to be with him). Daniel was highly concerned as to whether Armand liked him as a vampire, and Armand said he loved the way he turned out and looked upon him with lust. Anne herself said that Armand was a good person with Daniel, and that she loved his affair with Daniel and it was all about exploration. Everything else is just someone's personal read.

Also, twitter is a cesspit and brings out the worst people lol Don't go there for good takes, you will find nothing but anger and brain rot.

Could it possibly be the show? I don't watch it so I don't really know. I know that the producer seems to be setting up an old school love triangle which is probably going to pit Armand against Lestat, and Daniel against Louis. But idk I have no further relevant knowledge there.

But again, the show is so different from the books. If you don't like the show you're not obligated to listen to or interact with its fans, and if you like the show but don't like the books, vice versa. Nobody needs to be sending hate and insisting that people agree with their personal meta or else they're a bad person. These are fictional characters lmao

But thanks, anon. I am always here to bang the gong of "these two love each other" and create romantic content for them. You're safe here ♥

[hithisiszooz]

Care to tell about Penny hcs? Or just thoughts about her in general? :>

Penelope Spectra HeadCanons

since my AU has other super natural creatures like vampires and ware wolfs, I'm so tempted to make her a demon (still thinking about it because I mean imagine kid spectra like CUTE), she was born around the 1920's

I wanted to give her sisters (there's like ten of them, her included) and they all share the same ability in a sense that they all drain people’s energy but each got their own method in doing so.

you got a sis who became a therapist, another sis that is a forensic psychologist and an experimental psychologist

her sister Daffodil uses bad people (murderers, child abusers and many words that I don't think I could list them here but you get the point) for her psychology experiments and researches. Meaning she's making them so miserable, so much so that they want to off themselves, but she doesn't let them, she's curious as to how their insanity can go for her researches; much like “white bear” from black mirror. (she got stop and/or warning signs on top of her head but only around sick people tho)

She's rarely on my AU, but you'll see Penny caring a notebook that was written by her. Especially in the 90s when she works with Walker, since she's now dealing with criminals.

Penny and her Sister's when they were kids

I like to think that red/black/white are their signature color (they are all red heads), they are probably all named after flowers

but as they grow up they start to gain colorful appearances breaking away what felt like a uniform when they were kids, regardless they still like the color red.

I hc that Penny and her sisters are ballerinas. Penny LOVES dancing, she even crack the code in being able to wear heels constantly and all day, her secret is that all her high hells are dancing shoes which are very flexible to wear.

the picture above (left) represent her main style, the women is a fashionista, she wear practically everything but this is her fav

I like to think she’s classy as heck and her favourite jewellery is anything pearls related , and she’s also loves shoes.

and I like to think that this is her vibe on the picture above (right)

Penny's relationship statues

Vlad: they got on the wrong foot when they first met in 1983 but slowly warmup to each other around 1985, they dated but then when walker offered her a job as forensic psychologist in the ghost zone in 1989 (the date might change) so they split, but met again when Walker requested Vlad to be their spy in 1993

Walker: colleagues but Penny got a little crush

Ember and Kitty: Besties but she mostly view them as her little sisters

Desiree: I feel like they would literally hit it off as best friends since Desiree constantly made her feel young whenever she's around her and that's something Penny wants

Skulker: Neutral

Technus: Neutral

Dani: mother-daughter

Bertrand: colleagues

that's it for now :}

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kino Maniac [10]

ー The scene starts in the burning dungeon 

Yui: ...Coff, coff!

( The smoke... )

Kino: Ugh...

ー Kino runs away

Ayato: ...Kino! You bastard...! You think you can dip by yourself, huh!? 

*CLATTER*

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! Are you alright!? Oi!

Yui: ...Ayato-kun. I’m so sorry for getting you involved... 

But...I just didn’t want to submit to him... 

( I couldn’t, for the sake of that boy who was killed as well... )

If you think you can at least make it out safely then...ーー

Coff...Coff, coff...

( My consciousness...is slipping... )

ー The screen fades to black

Ayato: Chichinashi!? Oi, Chichinashi!

Monologue

Amidst my fading consciousness, a thought crosses my mind.

I wonder if this is where it ends for me. 

However, I have no regrets. 

I did not submit to his threats. 

Because I wanted him to realize,

that even if he stuck to his ways,

he cannot always get what he wants.

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Nn...

*Rustle rustle*

ー Yui wakes up in the Ghouls’ manor

Yui: ( Huh...? I... )

???: ...Are you awake?

Yui: Yuuri...san...?

Yuuri: How do you feel? 

Yui: No, uhm...I’m fine...

( What is going on...? )

Yuuri: ...Kino told me to save you, therefore I rescued you. Ayato-san is safe and sound as well. 

Yui: ...Kino-kun did...?

( But why exactly...? )

Yuuri: ...I must apologize to you. 

Honestly, I even believe I should thank you...

Yui: Eh...?

Yuuri: If only...I had been as strong as you are in the past, Kino would have not turned out the way he did. 

I believe Kino needed someone in his life to straight up tell him ‘no’ whenever he did something wrong. 

However...I failed to do so. 

Yui: ...What exactly happened between the two of you? 

Yuuri: ...

Kino was abandoned here at Rotigenberg at a very young age. 

It was my Father who stumbled upon him. He then decided to raise the two of us as if we were brothers, treating us equally. 

However, the same could not be said about the other Ghouls. 

They bear a strong grudge against all Demons who have always them unfairly. 

When Kino was young, he quickly became their favorite target to bully, only because he was a Vampire... 

Because the Ghouls knew better than anyone else, how painful it is to have someone treat you badly based solely on your race...

And they were not yet strong or mature enough to give the hatred they felt a proper place. 

Kino suffered immensely from the way the Ghouls treated him. He even fell victim to violence. 

Yui: ...

Yuuri: However...Since I was still young at that time as well, I was unable to stop any of this.

Before I knew it...Kino’s heart has been completely shattered. 

One day, Kino’s powers awakened. It was then that we came to the conclusion that he must be Karlheinz’ son...

Kino decided to use his powers to force the Ghouls into submission...

Until eventually, he began to declare that he was the Chosen One...Who would lead the Ghouls to the Promised Land.

...I believe that Kino was simply trying to come to peace with himself.

With his very own hands...and his magic, he got rid of anyone who defied him. 

And all I could do was nod my head to everything he said...

Or so I made myself believe, at least...

Yui: ...Is that why you said those words...? 

That it’s your fault that Kino-kun turned out this way...

Yuuri: ...That’s what it comes down to.

ー The scene shifts to Kino’s room

Kino: ...

*Flap flap flap* 

Kino: Hm? A Familiar...

( It’s probably from the Church... )

*Creaak*

Kino: ...Haah. And? How are things looking on their end? 

*Flap flap flap* 

Kino: ...Aah, I see...

Good job. ...!

*WOOSH*

*Flap flap flap* 

Kino: ...Fufu. My bad. I know you didn’t actually do anything wrong but...

I’m just so terribly pissed off, you see...

( And it’s all that woman’s fault. Whenever I think of her, I... )

( Why did I save her life...? )

( I thought I had come to the conclusion that I didn’t care if she died if she won’t bend to my will... )

( Yet...Why did I choose to...? )

Che...

ー He leaves the room as the scene shifts back to the living room

Yuuri: Well then, if you’d excuse me now.

Yui: Yes. Goodnight.

ー Yuuri leaves

Yui: ...

Selection

→ Let’s call it a day

Yui: ( I’m kind of exhausted... )

( I’ll crawl into bed... )

ー She walks towards the door

Yui: Pwaah...Hm?

→ Let’s get my thoughts straight (❦)

Yui: ( I’m kind of exhausted but... )

( I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep unless I sort out my thoughts first... )

( About what Yuuri-san told me earlier. As well as Kino-kun... )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Ah...You can see the moon through the window... )

ー She walks up to the window to gaze at the night sky

Monologue

In the end, Kino-kun did not kill me. 

I do not know what his true intentions. However, I wanted to have faith. 

That perhaps this is the result (結果),

of my feelings reaching him, even if just a littleーー

I wonder if that is why,

Yuuri-san decided to tell me all those things.

Yuuri-san goes above and beyond for Kino-kun,

because he failed to save him in the past,

out of a sense of guilt (罪悪感). 

I wonder if Kino-kun is aware,

that Yuuri-san feels this way? 

[idabbleincrazy]

Spike's Meme

Prompted over on LJ on the Nekkid_Spike comm. Did one for Spike, and one for Angel....

Spike:

1. Who is your biggest celebrity crush?

That bloke on Bones, David something…Christ, there's a shag I'm sure I'd never forget.

2. Name 3 things you've done that your parents would disapprove of.

Had sex outside of marriage, lots of it. Murdered, again, lots. And, I'm sure they'd have disapproved of my letting myself get turned into a bloodsucking demon.

3. Who is the one person who can always make you smile?

Fred. Sweet bird always knows how to cheer me up. Pure soul, that one.

4. What is your biggest fear?

Christ, you better not let Angel see this, or someone's gettin' their guts ripped out. I'm afraid of being alone, alright? Never could stand being on me own.

5. What is your favorite love song? And your favorite break-up song?

Oh, c'mon who wrote this poofy crap? Fine…A Thousand Years by Christina Perri, and Cryin' by Aerosmith. If Angel finds out about this, heads will roll.

6. What talent do you have that you think people would be surprised about?

Well, see, there's this thing I can do with my tongue…

7. What 3 things would you take to a desert island?

My smokes, a crateful of liquor, and a Keats book. 'Course, I'll be dead once the sun comes up, so…

8. What unpopular opinion do you hold?

Angel is not the golden boy everyone thinks he is. The demon's still there, it's just on a leash.

9. Have you ever called someone the wrong name during sex?

Whatever Harmony told you is a lie.

10. What are your feelings on clowns?

Look, don't know as how clowns are today, but when I was human, they always seemed like creepy pervs.

11. Is there something that you've always wanted to tell someone but been too scared to?

Yes, but I ain't tellin' you. I'll tell him her when he's she's ready to hear it.

12. Have you ever kissed someone that you really shouldn't have?

That first kiss with Harmony opened a whole can of worms. Oh, and probably shouldn't have kissed Xander that once, but the whelp was so bloody depressed, looking like a kicked puppy. It was reflexive. Donut boy didn't seem to mind too much, though.

13. What word or phrase do you absolutely dread hearing?

Gettin' real tired of the words 'get out'. One of these days I'll listen, and then he'll be sorry.

14. Have you ever been caught having sex?

Please, I lived with Angelus for nigh on two decades. Think the bloke got off on being caught out.

15. Finally, what makes you totally awesome?

Hello? Everything. It's me we're talking about here.

~~~~

Angel:

1. Who is your biggest celebrity crush?

Hedi Lamar. She's a vengeance demon now, did you know?

2. Name 3 things you've done that your parents would disapprove of.

If you asked my father, everything I've ever done is worthy of disapproval.

3. Who is the one person who can always make you smile?

I know who you're expecting me to say, and maybe that was true once, but the bloom is a bit off the rose these days. For Angelus, it was William. For me, it's Spike. He may irritate me to no end, but he knows how to get to me like no one else can. He's the only one who can pull me out of my funk anymore.

4. What is your biggest fear?

Losing my soul. If I did, I'd lose so much more along with it.

5. What is your favorite love song? And your favorite break-up song?

Ready to Take a Chance Again by Barry Manilow, and Mandy by Barry Manilow. Spike's not gonna see this, right?

6. What talent do you have that you think people would be surprised about?

Look, I might be shit at modern dance, but you don't spend over a century rubbing elbows with the snobby elite of Europe without knowing how to waltz.

7. What 3 things would you take to a desert island?

I'm a vampire. It doesn't matter what I bring to a desert island if I'm just going to end up as dust because there's no shade from the sun.

8. What unpopular opinion do you hold?

A soul doesn't stop you from being evil. It's a conscious choice you make every day of your life.

9. Have you ever called someone the wrong name during sex?

Uh, yeah…Darla wasn't very pleased about it either.

10. What are your feelings on clowns?

I think most of them are actually demons under all that makeup.

11. Is there something that you've always wanted to tell someone but been too scared to?

Yeah. I don't have to tell you though, do I? I really think he should hear it face to face.

12. Have you ever kissed someone that you really shouldn't have?

I suppose if I had only kissed people I should've kissed, none of this ever would have happened to me. I know I definitely shouldn't have kissed Sean O'Donoghue's fiancé. Or the butcher's daughter. Or half the population of Galway.

13. What word or phrase do you absolutely dread hearing?

Peaches.

14. Have you ever been caught having sex?

Heh. Next question, please.

15. Finally, what makes you totally awesome?

I mean, I don't know that I am, really. I try to be the best version of myself that I can be, but is that enough??

~~~~

@leatafandom