#Do as many crossovers as you’d like

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 321

You know Content Warning? Lethal Company but youtube videoing? 

Danny does that- just well, with the Zone. It’s not like it can be mapped out, what with people moving their Lairs and more lairs and islands constantly manifesting. And well, there’s so many things out here, and it’s not like he can be an astronaut.

So, he decided to make exploration logs for the Zone instead, alongside his friends and a doppelganger or two holding equipment. It’s great, and people can donate whenever he live streams so he’s getting income too. 

He just erm, maybe should have double checked it was uploaded to just his dimension…

[eternalbuckley]

Undercover. — evan buckley

SUMMARY: You are an undercover detective and assigned to a Job with Lucy. Buck tried reaching out to you while you were still undercover because he missed you and after the job was done, you decided to have a talk with him. Which revealed unsaid feelings from Buck.

word count: 3,504

genre: angst and bit of fluff | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

pairing: evan buckley x reader, lucy chen x platonic!reader, 911/the rookie crossover

warnings: talks about drugs, reader got physically hurt (broken rip and a few scratches), mention of a car crash, small descriptio of a physical fight, there is a bartender named marc (in case that's your name), Y/C/N used once (means your undercover characters name), very emotional buck, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

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Working as a detective in the LAPD came with its good and bad sides. The stress was not always easy to handle but working undercover came with many more downsides. Things like not being able to be with the people you care about whenever you have an undercover job. It would be too dangerous if anyone in your private life would be a part of the life you created to be undercover and get involved with any case you had. Everyone who was a part of your life knew that, especially your colleagues and your boyfriend Evan Buckley. A firefighter of the LAFD.

You always had to go away for a few days here and there to get done different jobs since you started being friends with him a few years ago. Some years into your friendship, both of you realized that you had feelings for each other and started dating. Now you’ve been with him in a happy relationship for one and a half years. And soon you’d finally move in with each other. Buck knew what he had to deal with, such as not being able to contact you in any imaginable way whenever you were undercover. It would be too risky for you, him, everyone else and the job. You didn’t have to go undercover for the past two months now, as a result of an injury you got from your last job. Since then, Buck got even more protective over you. Naturally, he already was the protective kind of guy but since then it got more.

Buck wasn’t okay with you going undercover again but you had to because it had something to you with one of your old jobs and it was much needed that you would get into it again. And despite Buck being against it, you decided to do it and promised him you‘d be okay and everything would be according to plan.

"You got hurt the last time you promised me that," he mumbled but you reassured him that you would look out for yourself this time. Especially because you weren’t alone and had one of your colleagues, Lucy Chen, with you. This helped him to calm down at least a little bit. You kissed him as a goodbye and left his apartment, shutting down your private life.

Since then, it had been three weeks and the job was taking longer than expected. It was unbearable for you and Buck but it needed to be like this. You knew you were close to being done with the job but you couldn’t risk anything yet. Lucy and you didn’t have all the evidence you needed to arrest the drug dealers and the whole gang you were infiltrating. She had to brew lots of different drugs and you helped her with that. Collecting all the evidence wasn’t as easy as you hoped it would be but there wasn’t anything else you could do. You had to wait and so did Buck.

Whenever he wasn’t on a call, he sat on the couch of the station and kept looking at his phone whenever it vibrated. He hoped it would be you, letting him know you were back but every time it wasn’t what he was hoping for. It was the first time you had been away for such an amount of time since you got together and he missed you. He needed to see you again. Eddie tried to cheer him up by spending time together with him and Chris but not even that helped Buck. He was thankful for the efforts but the only thing that could cheer him up would be seeing you. He knew he couldn’t but he had and needed to find a way.

So, despite everyone’s concerns and efforts to keep him away from doing what he wanted to do, he drove to a bar. Buck knew from your stories about your undercover jobs that this was the place where you usually hung out with a few drug dealers. It was a normal bar; everyone could enter it without automatically being associated with the gang or any criminal acts but it was a known place for this gang. He sat in his car, thinking about if he should do it. Buck knew it was wrong and the risks that could come with it but in that moment, he was too stubborn and got out of his jeep and walked over to the bar. He entered it and looked around, looking for you. And to his good luck or maybe later his bad luck he found you immediately. Your eyes met each other and for a second you thought your eyes were lying to you but they weren’t. You saw your beloved boyfriend walking over to the bartender and watched him as he ordered himself a drink while sitting down there. His back was turned to you but you knew what his aim was. Internally you cursed him.

"Hey, isn’t that your boyfriend?" Lucy nodded towards Buck and whispered to you. You nodded your head and sighed. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

You were currently sitting with her alone, luckily no one else in the gang you both were infiltrating was with you. Giving you a night just together. It was very unusual but you both took it as a chance to plan your next steps.

"I‘ll go and get us another drink, warn me if anyone gets too close," you told Lucy as you stood up. She hummed and nodded her head.

You walked over to the bartender and stood right next to Buck but kept a distance from him. You didn’t want to cause too much attention in case anyone in the gang was secretly watching you and Lucy.

"The same drinks twice again, Marc," you smiled at him. He nodded and started making your order. He was a few feet away from you now.

You didn’t look at Buck since you weren’t sure if you were being watched by anyone. "What the hell are you doing here?" You mumbled quietly but Buck was still able to hear you.

"I needed to see you," Buck took a sip from his drink, "I miss you." He noticed that you didn’t look at him which hurt him but he knew you couldn’t risk anything. It was already too risky for you to talk with him in the first place but he needed to risk it.

You sighed and looked down for a moment, "I miss you too,” you replied eventually in a soft whisper. “But you should go. You shouldn’t be here, it‘s too dangerous for you or us." You continued as you watched Marc while he made you the drinks. He shared a polite smile with you from the other side of the bar.

Buck nodded his head and finished his drink before he finally looked at you. You looked different. You had another haircut and hair colour, you even had a few fake tattoos on your body. You looked good in his eyes, different but good. But not as good as you usually look like.

"Here are your drinks Y/C/N," Marc gave you the two drinks and went back to serving other customers. You thanked him and took the two glasses.

You turned your body to Buck and gave him a small reassuring smile, "I‘m okay, don’t worry about me." You whispered once again.

Buck nodded his head again, "I love you." He whispered as you turned around to walk back to Lucy.

"I love you too," you replied quietly and eventually returned to Lucy without turning around again. Buck watched you go and gulped. He didn’t want to leave but he had to, and so he did.

As soon as you sat down again you looked out of the window and looked out for any people who possibly could follow him as he drove away but you weren’t able to see anyone following him. With a sigh and worry on your face, you looked back to Lucy, who already had her eyebrows raised. But before she could say anything you told her that you would talk with him about it once the job is done.

"I mean he knows that he shouldn’t do it but… It‘s Buck after all," you chuckled with her. You tried to hide your fear that someone might have followed Buck and that he could be hurt…. or worse.

After an hour Lucy and you decided to call it a night and drove back to your motel. The following days were quieter than usual. The gang you were working for didn’t contact you or Lucy, which was weird for the both of you but you decided to wait longer. After a few more days, three men came to your motel and took you with them. The conclusion was that the leader wanted to test you and Lucy. He wanted to see if he would be able to trust both of you any longer. Luckily you seemed to have passed his test because he involved both of you in the next steps of his plans.

Two weeks later the whole gang got arrested during a drug deal. The last days weren’t the easiest ones because one of the closer gang members started questioning the story about Lucy and you. Which resulted into the gang leader starting to question both of you as well but the deal was still being done. But you didn’t get out of it without any injuries. One of the gang members hit you in the side of your rips before he got arrested but that was everything that happened.

Your sergeant still made sure you‘d get a checkup in the hospital in case your injury caused any bigger inner injuries. You didn’t want to tell Buck anything about it because you knew he‘d be too worried but as soon as you entered the hospital with Lucy you met him. He and the 118 team just arrived there because Bobby got hurt on their latest call. You wished you could curse whoever was in charge of all the happening events because you didn’t want Buck to worry about you as well if he already was worried about his captain. Buck immediately stood up and rushed over to you, his face was slightly bruised.

"That‘s my cue to go," Lucy bit on her lower lip and held up her thumbs as she left you alone.

"Lucy!" You whisper yelled and held your rips because of your quick movements. Maybe it hurt you a bit more than you thought.

Your action didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, "What… What are you doing here?" He asked you, clearly worried about you. He held you by your arms and sat down with you.

"I‘m just here for a checkup, nothing to worry about," you tried to smile but you knew he‘d see right through it.

He nodded and raised his hand to touch your slightly bruised face but his face turned into slight panic or shock for a moment, "W..wait am I," he looked around and stopped in his tracks, "Am I allowed to talk to you? Is your job over or.."

You chuckled but hissed because of the pain, "It‘s over, we got everything we needed." You looked at him and touched his face to check up on him, "What happened to you?"

"Don’t worry about me. It‘s just a few scratches, we‘re here for Bobby," he told you and explained what exactly happened that led his team to be here.

They tried to rescue a couple after a car crash but another car drove into the accident and the team got slightly hurt. Especially Bobby but nothing too serious, he‘ll be out again after the checkups are complete.

Buck smiled but it was quickly replaced with worry again, "I‘m gonna get you a doctor."

You nodded and Buck left you there. Lucy came back with two water bottles and sat down next to you. She let out a relieved sigh and was clearly happy that the job was finally done. She was tired of brewing all these drugs.

"I guess you won’t talk to him tonight, hm?" She asked you as she gave you one bottle.

You took the bottle and opened it, "About the thing that happened at the bar a few weeks ago?" You took a sip and looked over to Buck who was talking to a doctor. You shook your head and looked back to Lucy, "I don’t think so. He already had a rough day. Talking about this can wait."

Lucy nodded and squeezed your arm after she put her hand on it, "Just don’t wait too long. We or especially you cannot risk it again. The next time it might be too late and one of you might die, or even both of you."

"I know," you sighed as you whispered and pinched your nose bridge. You tried to think about different ways how you should approach him with this topic but you still didn’t find the correct one.

As soon as you were off to go, you went home with Buck. He insisted on staying by your side, especially because it was your first night alone back home in your apartment. Originally, he wanted to drive to his apartment but yours was nearer. Buck waited for you as you got checked and the worry on his face was clearly there. You knew he wanted to ask you so many questions but would he get all of them answered? He didn’t think so, nor did he expect it.  But he for sure knew, he would try to get answers out of you about your well-being and how you got hurt.

"Ugh I require so much sleep," you sighed dramatically as soon as you entered your apartment.

You dropped your backpack on the floor and took off your jacket. Buck immediately came over to you to help you. Any big movement hurt you too much, he knew and saw that in your face.

"What happened to you?" He asked you again and reached out to touch your cheek. You didn’t flinch and just looked at him, "I.. I know you can’t tell me explicitly but.. You got hurt. Again."

You took his hand and squeezed it, "I‘m fine, really. It’s just a few scratches and a broken rip." You watched his eyes scanning your face. He furrowed his eyebrows but relaxed them after a few seconds again. He must have been thinking about something but you weren’t sure if he was going to tell you what he had on his mind.

After a few more seconds Buck shook his head and decided that he wanted to know what happened, "Tell me how it happened." He whispered as you turned away from him to get yourself something to drink.

"Buck…" You exhaled after you took a sip from your glass. You didn’t want to tell him everything but you knew he wouldn’t stop asking you about it. That was something you loved about him. That he would never back down from something.

"Please,” he begged desperately, “Tell me everything you can.”

Your eyes found his pleading ones and you slowly nodded your head. "Okay," you sat down with him on your couch.

Buck held your hand the entire time and listened to each of your words. You told him everything you were able to tell him about the past few weeks. From the point where you two met at the bar until almost all the main people from the gang got arrested. You told him about the gang leader starting to question the story about you and Lucy. How everything almost went down and that they were almost outed as detectives but luckily to you, you and Lucy were good enough at convincing most of the gang members. Of course, some didn’t believe you and watched your steps very clearly. Up until early this evening when everyone got arrested. Before your colleagues stormed into the building one gang member confronted you and Lucy. Having evidence that you two were indeed detectives and he threatened you to tell everyone about your lies. Hoping you two would die. Soon you three got into a fight and you got hit by the gang member a few times. In your face and rips mainly. But right after that your colleagues came in and made sure everyone got arrested.

Buck gulped nervously, "You mean… You could have died?"

You slightly nodded your head but immediately squeezed his hands, "But I didn’t, okay? Everything is fine. Everyone got arrested and everything is done." You spoke softly.

"But you still could have died," his voice cracked. His lower lip trembled in fear of the possibility of losing you.

He didn’t want to imagine getting a call about your passing from your boss or any partners. Buck was afraid that you could die in a job. He knew his own job wasn’t the safest either and that you might feel the same way as he did about you and your job. But he couldn’t imagine a life without you, that’s something he was one hundred percent sure of.

"Buck,” you tried to calm him down but it was not possible. You took both of his hands and pulled them to your lips to kiss him on his knuckles. It usually helped him to calm down whenever you did it but this time it didn’t seem to help immediately. “I’m here, okay? Nothing bad happened. I’m-“

"I don’t know how dangerous undercover jobs can exactly be but I don’t want you to die. I can’t lose you,” he shook his head with tears in his eyes.

You didn’t know about his opinion about your job. Both of you haven’t really talked about it before. Sure, you knew he didn’t like your job because he was scared you could badly get hurt again but that he felt this exact way. That was something new. He never was near crying because of it, at least not in front of you.

"You won’t lose me," you reassured him and put one of your hands on his cheek. He leaned his head into your hand but his worries were still present.

You wanted to promise him that he won’t lose you but you didn’t want to make a promise about this. Not, if you weren’t one hundred percent sure if you could keep it. The only way you could keep it was by staying with him because you deeply cared about him and loved him. But regarding to your job, you couldn’t promise him that. Neither could Buck promise you the same thing and both of you knew that.

"But what if there’s a time you can’t help yourself and you get in danger and-," he started rambling but stopped himself to look at you, “I’m worried about you.”

You nodded your head and whispered a few ‘I knows’. "And that’s okay but if I ever get too close to something dangerous, I‘ll get out."

Buck tried to smile at you but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"But…" you started and scooted closer to him. His hand immediately found its way to your thigh. You were thinking about how you could approach another important topic in this whole situation. Because you still needed to talk with him about his appearance at the bar a few weeks ago. But right now, you decided this would be something you should discuss later.

Buck looked at you, waiting for you to continue. He turned his body completely to you and signalled you that he was listening. With your one hand, you wiped away his tears and shook your head. You cuddled into him and wrapped your arms around his torso and so did he.

"There’s something else I need to talk with you about but it can wait for now,” you whispered softly and closed your eyes. “Right now, I just want to sit here with my boyfriend and cuddle with him.”

He nodded his head with a chuckle and squeezed your arms, he tried to make sure he wasn’t accidentally hurting you. He finally had his angel back in his arms. You nuzzled more into his body and hummed, feeling calm and happy. You didn’t want to let go of him and neither did he want to. There was an underlying tension between you regarding you and being an undercover detective but Buck knew he couldn’t change your opinion. You loved being a detective and especially working undercover. After all, it wasn’t just him who was scared every time. Whenever Buck had a shift, you were scared you would get a phone call about his passing or that you’d see anything about it on the news. You deeply cared about each other and were scared for each other but the love between you was stronger than anything else. But little did you know what would come sooner or later.

[geeks-universe]

Cooper Howard x F!Reader (not to spoil it, but you know I love my crossovers so…)

The Fallen pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once, when the world was younger and you were still naive enough to believe in fate, you asked your father about love.

He’d laughed then- a deep, cheery kind, that spoke of a wisdom you could never hope to achieve.

“In time,” he’d promised, taking your hands into his, “You’ll learn that love comes in many forms, and the love you choose will always be the greatest.”

Even after everything, after years and years of disappointment, of cruelty and emptiness, you couldn’t forget his words.

So, in an act of rebellion, you chose love.

You chose the love of your brother, the brother who would lose everything, who would fall from Grace, just for defying fate.

You chose the human race, who turned their back on you, who hurt you over and over again.

You chose a better life, that seemed impossible most days- but sometimes, just sometimes, everybody lives.

And you chose wrong.

The world tore itself apart, and just when you wanted to believe it could find itself again, it would fall into the greatest trap in human history: greed.

The love in your soul turned to dust, like the cities you’d once roamed, crumbling until all that remained was an empty space and broken dreams. You’d held onto what you could of yourself, desperate to piece together the fragments into something that resembled the person you’d been, but there was no hope. The spark of hope you’d once kindled and raised to an inferno was doused, nothing but ashes in the ocean of your disappointment.

There were still a few things you couldn’t abide by, however, and Cooper Howard dragging an innocent woman through the desolate Wastelands was one of them.

You’d happened upon the scene by accident, just passing through, but the familiarity of the figure had you lurking longer than what was normally deemed safe.

“Coop?”

Your voice was gentle, like the beginning strums of a sweet song. Cooper wasn’t sure how the harshness that had etched itself into your demeanor never invaded your speech, but he would be eternally grateful. It was a goddamn godsend he didn’t believe he ever deserved.

“Well, now,” he drawled, careful to keep the smile that threatened to peek through hidden. “Last I heard, you were headed East.”

You had no such reservations, and even the years of guilt and pain couldn’t wipe away the upturn of your lips. For an action so small, it sure did radiate in a way the sun never could.

“I did, but it didn’t stick,” you shrugged, grabbing the straps of your backpack. Never one for subtlety, you gestured at the vault-dweller, who had been eyeing you with a keen interest.

She had been quiet, obviously, for the sake of herself and how Cooper might react to her asking for help. Now that you’d acknowledged her, though, she started speaking up, much to Cooper’s chagrin.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, tugging harshly at the restraints around her neck. “I’m looking for my father.”

You nodded, and the fluttering in Lucy’s heart slowed, fear mixing with her initial curiosity. You knew the ghoul holding her captive, the chances of you helping her were slim to none, but she tried to remain optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a good person on the surface.

“Might be hard to do with that,” your eyes flicked from her neck to Cooper, with a pointed raise of one brow.

He let out a low whistle, leaning back with the confidence of a man who’d lived long enough to not be afraid of shit. If it were anyone else, friend or not, he would’ve shot them dead and been done with it. He didn’t need to answer to anyone, but something deep in his chest forced his hands steady.

“She broke my vials,” he explained, cautiously avoiding your gaze. “Seems only fair she gets me more.”

“He used me as bait!” Lucy argued indignantly, trying to take a step towards you only to be tugged back by Cooper. “I had to do something.”

“Your father,” the word is strained, a haunting in your eyes Lucy can’t place, “Where is he?”

Lucy tried, once again, to walk to you. Coop, however, was keeping her on a tight leash, refusing to let her near you. It’s for his benefit, he tells himself, even if some small part of him does it for your protection.

Over the years, he’s run into you many, many times. No matter how hard he’s tried, it’s like fate keeps bringing him back to you. At first, he’d been downright horrible to you, terrified to admit that there was something in your eyes that made him feel human again. Slowly, ever slowly, like a stubborn weed you grew on him, and it’s been impossible for him to deny the way his body reacts to you.

“Coop,” you chide, your voice like velvet, enveloping his skin in a soft warmth. Fuck, he did love it when you used his name.

You gave Lucy a half smile, and the growl that threatened to leave Cooper’s mouth got caught in his throat as he realized you weren’t walking to her, but to him.

“I’ll get you the vials, just let her find her dad.”

He stood a little taller as you approached, planting his hands on his belt as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Darlin’, I ain’t doing this for the hell of it,” he replied, and then paused. “Mostly.”

You reached your hands out, carefully enveloping them around where he was grasping the rope. In all his years, he hadn’t recalled a single touch ever stirring his stomach the way yours did. You’d only ever touched him once before, and it was a brief graze of his cheek. This was intentful, and it felt a hell of a lot more intimate than it had any right to be.

“Please,” you breathed, and he could see the despair in your eyes - eyes that were far too old for someone who looked so young. He could never quite piece together how you fit in this world, or how you managed to look as if you’d stepped right out of the past just to have this moment with him.

He sighed, maintaining a scowl for all he was worth. Cooper Howard would not let you see the effect you had on him.

“Thank you, Coop.”

His stubborn heart skipped a beat as he clenched his jaw, his expression emanating annoyance. You weren’t perturbed, however, turning away to free Lucy.

“I’m (Y/N),” you introduced yourself, careful not to irritate the marks on her neck further. Cooper was rough around the edges, you knew that, but you saw the man beneath the armor in the little moments, the times he couldn’t quite hide who he was.

It intrigued you, made you think about yourself and the person you’d become. Perhaps, you had been too hasty in throwing that person away. Maybe, that part of yourself was still alive too, buried underneath layers of armor.

“Thank you,” she was sincere in her gratitude, and that tiny piece of yourself flared, begging to be remembered.

“I could help you too, you know,” you offered after a delayed pause, chasing the optimism she held tightly onto.

No matter how hard you tried, your soul fought back, demanded to be whole again.

“Really?” Her surprise morphed to joy, and you found it contagious.

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Cooper interrupted, not pleased with that development. “Your services are required elsewhere.”

“I’m capable of servicing more than just you.”

His leg twitched at the insinuation, at the way you looked at him from beneath your lashes with an innocence he doubted you possessed.

“But, since you asked so nicely cowboy,” your smile was devious, your tone far too sultry for the sweltering heat of the desert. “You first.”

Lucy’s brows were to her hairline, unsure what to make of the dynamic between the two of you. Her entertainment, however, was cut blissfully short when you threw a canteen towards her, which she caught instinctually.

“Now you’re coddling her, sweetheart?”

You took a moment to wrap the lasso Cooper carried around into a neat loop, your gaze locked with his as you approached once more. Lucy was too preoccupied with her water to notice the two of you sizing one another up.

“Don’t be jealous, Coop,” you grabbed the front of his belt roughly, forcing him a step closer to you.

He fell into the motion, tracing his eyes dangerously slow from where you gripped his belt to the soft curve of your lips.

“You’re still my favorite,” you promised on a breath as you tucked his lasso securely into his waist.

His hands snatched your wrists before you pulled away, and for a brief moment, the intermingling of your breath was all that interrupted the silence. His gaze was a challenge, and yours was far too playful.

It was damn near unfair how you could walk through the apocalypse and still look like you belonged on a fucking billboard. There was an unnatural allure around you, and he wasn’t sure if it was the twinkle in your eyes, or the smoothness of your skin, or the gentle bur of your voice- but holy fuck you looked like an angel that’d accidentally stumbled into hell.

The silence was interrupted by Lucy clearing her throat, an awkward smile as she caught your attention.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her, grazing your fingers along Cooper’s palms as you step from his proximity.

“Vials first, daddy dearest after,” you reminded them, taking the lead.

Lucy was more than happy to walk beside you, while Cooper trailed a small distance behind. Where Lucy was insistent on speaking, keeping up a steady conversation through the long trek, Cooper preferred to observe.

First, he focused on the way your black jumpsuit hugged all the right areas, tight enough it could be considered a damn sin. That train of thought was dangerous though, and left him with an ache he knew he couldn’t satisfy on his own.

So, he instead focused on the way you effortlessly dodged Lucy’s line of questions, and redirected the questions to learn about her. It was curious, that. As much of a tight lipped bastard that Cooper was, you were doubly so. Through the years and the friendly encounters, he’d let some of his life slip in conversation. Nothing substantial, but you certainly knew more tidbits than anyone else.

He, however, didn’t know anything about you. He knew what he observed, but you never told him anything about your past.

It helped pass the time, sifting through your noncommittal answers to make assumptions about the life you lived.

It was difficult though.

Sometimes, you talked about things like you’d witnessed them, even though it would’ve been impossible. He didn’t know your age exactly, but if he had to guess, he’d put you at maybe mid-twenties, and that’s at the oldest. It was damn near a miracle you didn’t have any missing limbs or obvious scarring. You looked as unmarked as a damn vault dweller, and he was starting to think that perhaps you had been one.

“Have you always lived on the surface?”

He never thought he’d be thankful for the damn vault dweller, but it was nice having someone try to pry some answers out of you.

“That’s a harder question to answer than you’d think,” you laughed a little coyly, like there was a joke that only you were privy to.

When it was obvious you weren’t going to continue speaking, and Lucy had far too many manners to push any further on the subject, she asked another question.

“Why’d you help me?“

Your gaze turned toward the setting sun. It had been over half the day since you’d decided to help them both, and the sun was just now slipping below the horizon. The three of you would have to rest soon.

“It’s hard to forget the person I was,” you admitted lowly.

The symphony that was your voice turned decidedly melancholy, unnaturally so. Normally, it sounded more like a romantic string of tunes that captured the essence of life. This, however, was sad, dead.

“Maybe the world needs more people like that,” Lucy provided, and Cooper didn’t miss the flash of guilt that devastated your expression.

Curious, indeed.

“I’d reckon that’s the last place we’ll find ‘fore the sun disappears,” Coop states, pointing to a rickety, old house, somehow still standing against the desert in defiance.

“It’s as good a place as any for the night,” you shrugged, leading the small group to the rest spot.

Where Cooper was cautious, weapon drawn, you were careless, opening the door like you knew nothing was in there that could hurt you. He felt a twinge of annoyance that you would be that reckless, knowing the dangers of the Wasteland. He was many things, but a protector was certainly not one of them.

“Here,” Lucy tried to hand you back the canteen you’d gifted her earlier as you settled yourself down in a corner.

The building was definitely empty, and provided some amount of protection from both the elements and any creatures lurking about, but there wasn’t any intact furniture. You’d found a relatively comfortable pile of sand and laid your pack down, as if it were a pillow.

“Keep it,” you refused to take the offering. You were honestly a bit surprised she had even saved some for you.

“But you haven’t had anything to drink all day.”

It was an oddity that Cooper had noticed too. While both he and the vault-dweller had taken an occasional sip of water or a bite to eat, you hadn’t done either, and the brutal pace you’d set hadn’t reflected that.

“Believe me, “ you said, turning your back to your two traveling companions. “I’m okay.”

Obviously unsatisfied with leaving the conversation, Lucy frowned, but obeyed. Her probing look to the ghoul warranted no answers, and eventually she found her own patch of sand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed along in a similar manner, and the more of you that the two observed, the more confused they became. They didn’t voice their concerns, however, far more focused on the destination you had in mind.

“It’s…”

Lucy trailed off, side eyeing you with a questioning look.

“A lab,” you supplied.

“Right, a lab!” She echoed enthusiastically, deciding it best not to point out that it was very much in a state of disrepair and the likelihood of anything surviving the looting prevalent throughout the Wastelands was little to none.

“Sugar, I don’t have the time to be fucking around right now.”

It was the closest tone to anger that Cooper had spoken to you since his first year of knowing you. In the past two days specifically his coughing had grown more severe and more often.

You’d explained a generalized version of what would happen without help to Lucy after the first night, and since then she’d been a bit more apologetic to the ghoul, even if he was a dick.

“Stay out here,” you ordered, not waiting for their inevitable protest as you slipped into the decrepit building with a loud screech of the door.

At the very least, your traveling companions didn’t follow you into the descending hallway, which was more than you expected.

Whatever source had powered the underground facility had died years ago, leaving the bulk of the supplies sealed tight behind an impenetrable door. The bunker was lined with 2 feet of lead, and a door weighing many tons. It was nigh impossible to get in, and if you were anyone else, you would’ve considered it a lost cause.

Instead, you cast a glance back towards the faded light where the entrance was, ensuring that you were not followed while you grabbed hold of the door handle.

You sighed, yanking with a great deal of force until the door made a loud pop, coming unhinged and falling to the ground with a deafening thud. There was a hushed murmur from where Lucy had yelled down to you, but you didn’t bother replying, instead focused on the rows and rows of vials.

Most of the initial testing sites were still secret, a forgotten part of history that, despite their usefulness in the current state of the world, had fallen into the cracks of negligence. Luckily for you, and by extension Cooper, there was enough supply to last him damn near a year if he could ration and store it properly.

Just as you dropped the first vial into your backpack, which was in a convenient metal container, you heard a distinct whooshing noise. You didn’t need to look at the falling object to know who had decided to drop by, and with an exasperated sigh, you tilted your head toward the ceiling of the very dark, very cold bunker.

“Brother…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think we should check on her?” Lucy was having trouble keeping still, straining her eyes down the dark hallway. “What if she’s hurt?“

“She ain’t hurt,” Cooper shot back, leaning back against the dingy building and crossing his arms over his chest.

“She could be de-“

“Finish that sentence and you might find yourself there, sweetheart,” He threatened, his fingers reaching down toward his holstered gun.

Maybe it’d be better to keep her mouth shut, but after a tense silence, and quite literally nothing better to do, Lucy couldn’t help herself.

“So, you and (Y/N)-“

“Do you like breathin’? ‘Cause I’m getting the distinct feeling that you certainly do not.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you look at her with this-“

“I have no qualms with blasting a hole through your head ‘nd tellin’ her you decided to run off.”

“And then there’s the way she talks to you-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there, sweetheart. If one more word comes out of your mouth, it’ll be the last.”

The two met stare for stare, the threat lingering in the hot breeze between them. Lucy had no doubt she was beginning to grate on the ghoul’s nerves, but she also didn’t really think he’d harm her, not when it was obvious you’d know it was him that did so.

He wouldn’t risk you being upset with him.

Probably.

And because Lucy really didn’t know when to stop talking, she spoke one more time.

“I know that you think I’m naive, and maybe I am, but I do know that life is unexpected and people die, like, a lot.” She dragged in a breath, envisioning her last, and only, memory with her mother, surprised that Cooper had actually let her speak for this long without interrupting.

“Especially up here, so maybe, just… keep that in mind.”

The silence stretched, and for a long moment, Lucy was sure he was going to shoot her. Or at the very least, not answer.

Ever so quietly, however, in a low grumble she heard him mutter, “I know.”

The air felt significantly less murderous after that, and she left the ghoul to contemplate his complex feelings on the subject. She might not fully understand the extent of your connection, or even why you felt that way towards him, but she could appreciate the raw emotion that sparked in the conversation between you both.

If anything good came out of her coming to the surface, besides bringing her dad home, she hopes it would be them realizing the gift they have. Idly, she thought about the knight she’d met back at Filly. That was the first real connection she’d had with anyone, as silly as it was to think about.

“I’m glad nobody’s shot,” you interrupted the quiet contemplation, the smile on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

Whatever happened in the mysterious lab couldn’t have been good, but you seemed entirely unscathed outside the haunted, nervous look in your eyes.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Cooper greeted, tipping his hat back a titch so he could inspect your person. If he took a little extra time to appreciate the curves of your body- well, who could blame him?

“It’s cleared out,” you rattled your pack in the air before you, nearly dropping some of the overstuffed vials.

Coop let out a low whistle, and Lucy commented, “That’s enough for a lifetime.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, passing along the top one to Cooper. “But it will certainly last a while.”

While the ghoul tended to his needs, Lucy and you wandered further into the Wasteland, eyeing the pipboy on her wrist with the directions to the head.

“So the head for your dad?”

There it was again. The sourness in your voice at the word “dad”. Lucy wanted to ask without being too terribly intrusive, but let the subject drop.

“Did anything happen in the lab?”

You bummed, shaking your head. It was clearly a lie, further proven by the frown that settled on your lips. There wasn’t a lot of yourself you trusted other people with, especially not when it came to your family, but your soul was burning with the desire to shed your armor.

“My brother’s name is Lucy,” you said suddenly, unprompted. “Well, his nickname.”

Lucy, at the very least knowing where the boundary was, decided not to press her luck. Despite seeming to be such a small piece of information, she could see the effort you put into sharing it nonetheless.

“Lucy?” Cooper echoed, having snuck up at some point to follow you.

You weren’t bothered that he’d overheard though. On more than one occasion you’d wanted to share pieces of yourself with Cooper.

“Lucifer,” you provided his full name, a twinge at the top of your shoulder blade, where your battered, broken wings began, ran down the length of your spine.

“Like the devil?” Lucy inquired cautiously.

A laugh crawled up your throat, and before you could stop it, you were giggling heartily, nodding your head.

“That’d be the one, yeah.”

She didn’t understand the truth you were telling her. You knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly fathom the implications that ensued with that knowledge either.

Lucy casted one quick glance at Cooper, then cleared her throat and claimed she was going off the path to use the bathroom quick.

There was a tense silence that permeated the hot, desert air when she left, a new development that neither occupant knew how to navigate. Finally, Coop broke it.

“Ya know, you’ve never actually talked about… all o’ that.”

Your family.

He didn’t say it in so many words, but you could fill in the unspoken topic without much thought. You hummed, acknowledging your own secrecy regarding your past.

“Sometimes it’s better to leave the past buried.”

Coop breathed out a laugh.

“Don’t I know it.”

The smile you gave him was genuine, albeit small. Hesitantly, you reached out towards his gloved hand, grasping it lightly between your own. You didn’t have anything you really wanted to say, didn’t need to, actually. He could see it in your eyes, the gratefulness shining in your bright gaze, clearing some of the guilt that stayed stagnant on your person.

“The vaultie reminded me today,” he drawled, his voice even lower than normal. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he was almost flustered.

“People die.”

You waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, you raised a brow in question.

Cooper felt his heart jump to his throat. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bare himself- not now, maybe not ever. The world felt like it started spinning around him, and he pulled his hand from yours, cradling it to your chest.

“Just hope you’re not one of ‘em, darlin’,” he finished lamely.

You swallowed, deciding it was better not to push. Not today.

“You too, Coop.”

Words simmered between you. Dangerous, terrifying words. But Cooper couldn’t get them out, couldn’t get past the panic that played his heart like a damn fiddle.

And you, well you couldn’t let go of your guilt, couldn’t see past the pain of watching the world go to shit and not doing anything to stop it.

So those words stayed unspoke, utterances of the heart, but not of the lips. Maybe, if they were never voiced, they could freeze, and eventually crumble, like time did to all.

Lucy returned then, and the unlikely group continued on as before, leaving the forgotten words to decay away in the dry sand of the Wasteland

[politemenacephd]

Monster!Miguel Vol. 2 (+18)

Ghoul!Miguel O'Hara X GN!Reader Tokyo Ghoul/ATSV Crossover

Masterlist

CW: Blood, Mentions of cannibalism, reader has a vagina.

Content: Established relationship, Oral (reader recieving), Tentacle play, Tentacle penetration, Multiple orgasms, PinV sex, Biting/Consensual blood drinking. Notes: This was my first request! I really hope i did this right, I haven't watched TG in like. over a decade lmao so I did my best, enjoy

‘You can eat me.’

In your bedroom, in the dark, those words hung heavy in the air. They seemed to reverberate long after they’d been said. You swallowed hard and repeated them: ‘You can eat me.’

There was no light in here, spare the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering in through your half-done blinds, and from the safety of your mattress you watched as that cold, white light illuminated the contours of the man sitting at the end of your bed. That muscled creature with the red eyes.

You saw something snaking in the shadows at his back. You heard it slithering.

You should have been terrified, but you weren’t. In fact, your dynamic was strangely flipped. You were calm, collected, while the man before you was anything but. He was the one who looked terrified.

‘No, no’ he repeated. His voice was low.

‘It’s okay’ you repeated. ‘I understand. I understand.’

‘No!’

He raised his voice but immediately doubled over, almost as if some invisible force had punched him in the gut. You could see the pain he was in. The way he kept wincing, even in this dull light. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. It was that migraine, the start of the feeding frenzy.

You’d been seeing Miguel in secret for some time now, enough that you’d seen this many times before. Every time he’d found a way to stave it off. Blood bags, donated organs, forcing himself to eat that synthetic flesh. Now, though, he was in trouble. He had nowhere else to go.

He needed to eat, and you knew that he could only consume one thing: humans. Your blood, your flesh, your bones, anything you made would do, but it had to be that. It had to be you.

And it could be, because despite your fear, you loved him. You wanted him to survive.

‘If you don’t eat, you’ll do something you regret’ you insisted.

‘Not you’ he repeated.

‘Why not me?’

Your soft platitudes turned to a choke as you saw the man before you reared up to his full glory. His eyes were ringed with black, the red pupils the only clear light. That bloody glow reflected off of every contour on his upper body. You saw the strength, the scars, the sheer size. You saw the faint glimmer of a fang in his mouth as he sneered.

The slithering at his back suddenly settled, and in the dim light you could now see what it was. Eight, slippery, blood-red tendrils, four on each side of his back, long and sharp like a spider’s legs. He suddenly dug them down into the floor on either side of the bed, and with unnerving ease he used them to lift his body.

He reared up and lifted himself onto the bed, his body fully eclipsing yours as he lay across you. You whimpered and flattered yourself to the sheets. His breath hit your cheek; it was hot, and smelled strangely metallic.

‘You know I want to, right?’ he murmured. You felt his breath move from your face to your neck, right over the jugular. When you swallowed his lips could feel your throat moving.

‘I want to—taste you.’

His voice was hoarse and husky. He sounded parched.

‘I know’ you whispered.

‘I think about it, all the time’ he insisted, his hunger clear. You saw the moonlight glinting off of the drool dripping down his jaw. ‘You must be- delicious.’

You shuddered as he licked your neck, one clean move from collar to jaw. His tongue was unnervingly sharp compared to a human, almost cat-like in texture, but the spit he left on your skin was warm and soothing.

A car drove past outside, briefly highlighting the ecstasy on his face. You watched through the haze of neon pink light as he licked his bottom lip. He opened his mouth, and you closed your eyes.

‘But if I ate you, what would be the point?’

Slowly, you re-opened your eyes again. He hadn’t moved. Miguel was looking down with a dreamy gaze, his upper arms shaking as his kagune whipped violently at his back.

‘That would be it. The high point of my life. You would be gone, and I’d never get to taste you again’ he whined. ‘I can’t waste you.’

‘Do it slowly then’ you whispered.

‘You are not—helping’ he rasped. He sucked in air through his teeth as he fought the urge to just sink down on your soft little neck, feeling the sweet, warm taste fill his mouth.

‘Just… okay, what about something small?’ you asked. That certainly seemed to draw him back, as his eyes darted across your body and face.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I can—give you something small.’ You pointed to your wrist, your foot, whatever you could think of in the moment. ‘I can… give you something small, to tide you over.’

Your unending loyalty to him almost brought him to his knees.

He was wracked with that insatiable lust. How could he possibly turn it down? How could he fight the urge to have you so permanently?

The love of a predator for its prey. The need to consume you in every possible sense. Your tears, your words, your blood, your bones, to be inside you and to have you inside him. How beautiful. How honest. How vile.

‘Perhaps, just—a little, blood, could… No. No. First, I want to, try something’ he said gently.

You nodded, eager to do anything to soothe that pain. ‘Yes. Yes, of course, do you—’

‘Take your panties off.’

You froze, still vulnerable on your back with his body planking over your own. You looked up into those ferocious eyes and felt your mouth moving, though no sound came out.

‘W-What?’

‘Take your panties off’ he repeated in that husky voice, ‘take them off, and lie down for me. No moving. If I get too excited, I could—’

‘I know’ you murmured. ‘I-I know the drill.’

Until now you’d only even engaged physically in small ways to avoid setting him off. Using hands, fingers, sparing kisses to stave off the heat. But, he’d never seen you naked before.

Shyly you stripped your panties down. In your bed you were wearing only an oversized shirt and them to cover yourself, so as soon as they were gone you almost fully bare. You felt tingles as the cold air hit you; you were, embarrassingly, already a little wet.

Miguel bobbed his head, gesturing for you to lie down. You did as told.

‘Stay, still’ he repeated. You felt your body tense.

With painful deliberation Miguel used his clawed hands to split your legs apart, fully spreading you before his eager eyes. You couldn’t help it; a whimper escaped your lips. He seemed to enjoy it.

You watched him tilt his head, admiring the barely visible view.

And then, slowly, his head went down. You watched his mouth and nose disappear as he lowered them to your spread sex, his hands still gripped tight to your thighs to keep them apart. You felt just the faintest flicker of fear then.

Miguel lay himself down until he was comfortable. He breathed you in with unabashed perversion, letting your scent fill his sinuses, before coyly opening his mouth. His lips parted and his tongue crept out, and after a moment of hesitation, it brushed your clit.

You jolted violently the moment you felt him. He had to pin you down to stop you moving.

‘Shh, shh. Still’ he barked. He didn’t want the temptation to go further. You panted as you lay back, forcing yourself to be as still as you could. His tongue went back and you bit your lip.

It was so hard to stay put. His tongue was so wet but so rough, and you were incredibly sensitive. You had to lie in absolute stillness as his tongue wound its way through your folds, as his lips kissed and sucked on your clit, as he dared to even push it up inside you.

You felt the cold when he moved, leaving behind his wet little trails of spit. You felt yourself pulsing with fear and excitement.

It didn’t take long for him to get what he wanted. You were inexperienced, and the soft stimulation was too much for your throbbing clit. All too soon you orgasmed in his grip, cumming hard on his tongue as he licked you out.

You stifled your own screams with your hand. You stifled the violent shudders your body was begging to release as it was rapturously filled with that white-hot pleasure, but Miguel wasn’t concerned with that anymore.

He put his tongue inside you as you came, and he licked. He licked up everything he could.

He was after your slick, your taste. He was playing with his food. Like a cat with a mouse in his paws, he let you squirm.

But, it was helping. It was tiding him over. It wasn’t quite flesh but it was sating some of his obsessive hunger. It tasted good. He lapped up your slick and felt that familiar joy at feeding, and even once you’d collapsed back into the sheets he continued.

He continued to lick. He pushed for one more taste.

‘Give me more—please—please—’

You jolted as one of his long, slippery kagune tentacles slithered down and between your legs, sliding under his wet jaw to probe at your cunt. You squirmed a little at the sensation; it wasn’t like anything you’d felt before, more like a tongue than an appendage, with its surface obscenely velvety and smooth.

With a wet squelch it slipped inside you, gently stretching you out. You cried out in shock.

‘More—’

With his long organ now pumping inside you he began to manipulate it against your g-spot, pushing and sliding and coiling until you squirmed. He pushed you until you squirted.

‘Ah—yes, yes—’

He greedily lapped up your slick with his tongue, his body practically shaking as it dripped down his lips and jaw. ‘Yes’ he repeated in a dreamy voice, ‘yes, yes.’

Your body was overwhelmed with pleasure, to the point that you had gone limp in his grip. All you could feel was the slippery conjoined heat of his tongue and kagune aggressively licking and nestling at your pussy, drawing out as much as they could.

‘Tastes so—good—’

One of his other eight kagune slipped up and under your shirt to cup your nipple, eager to stimulate you more. He needed you to gush. He needed you to fill his mouth.

You whimpered, your lips trembling as he held you down. You could feel it moving inside you, not just back and forth but swirling and shifting like a tongue, pushing in deep enough to kiss your cervix. You bucked your hips as it started to nestle in at every spot inside you.

‘Come on… come on…’ Miguel hissed. His tongue hit your clit right as his soft appendage squished at your g-spot, forcing you to cum and squirt for a second time.

 He lapped at it desperately, even pulling his kagune out halfway just to lick that too. You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness as it slid out and drooped, its red surface utterly saturated.

Miguel was fixated on it. The pearly strings dripping and hanging from it, the way it was pulsing softly against your hole as you clenching and twitched. He tasted every bit of it before burying himself back into the sweet nook of your clit.

‘So—delicious—‘

You weren’t sure how many times he forced you to cum for him. It could have been six, or eight? Maybe even ten? You lost count.

He refused to let you go, keeping your body flat on its back and permanently filled with his softly pulsing organs, his weapons, now being used to gently fuck you into submission.

He was practically milking you for orgasms, like livestock in his hands.

You had promised to let him eat you, though. Really, what could you have expected.

‘A-Ah… aha—’ You were struggling to control yourself at this point. You were spasming slightly with each suck, and every time his tendrils wriggled inside you, you felt a little more lightheaded. You were overstimulated to the max.

He let you shudder into another orgasm with nought but a weak and shaky whimper, and at last he withdrew from your body. He licked what he could from your cunt and thighs and from his own appendage before moving back up to your head.

‘May I have your hand, please?’ he purred. You were too weak to raise your hand, but he saw it trembling and went to lift it himself. He held your wrist delicately up to his mouth, and with his fangs he gently pierced the skin between your thumb and finger.

You moaned as he started to suck on the cut he’d made, drawing out a small stream of blood to satiate the last of that hunger. Your eyes fluttered shut.

That was, until he tapped your thigh. You gasped and shuddered back into wakefulness, only to find that Miguel had stripped his own boxers down and was resting his hefty, erect cock on your thigh. His cold red eyes peered down at you in the dark.

‘Mmf…’

He gently started to grind on you, a silent plead for more affection. He wanted all of you.

Shakily, you nodded. ‘Y-Yes, yes. You can- You can have me’ you panted.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed as he shifted your hips. With your hand still in his mouth he positioned himself, and with his own copious spit as lube he started roughly thrusting his own thick cock inside your overstimulated cunt. You could feel it pulsing deep, desperately punching at your cervix.

‘A-Ah… M-Miguel’ you panted. He kept pumping, his eyes dreamy and soft, his lips now stained as he continued to suck what he could.

‘Mmf… Mmfff…’

Between the pleasure and the pain you were lost. You were so unbearably overstimulated, and after the soft dexterity of the kagune tendril it was quite the shock to now be penetrated by something so hard and firm. It pulsed the same, gently smearing you in his pre-cum as he fucked you raw.  Somehow, that rhythmic pumping began to relax you once more.

With a moan you lay back, and you let him satiate his multi-layered hunger with your body.

[ladyviolethummingbird]

The Gloaming

An Outlander / Jane Eyre crossover fic

Catch up on chapters 1-11 here

Chapter 11: All or Nothing

Too scared to breathe, Jamie awaited Claire’s verdict. As she observed him on bended knee, her head titled slightly to the side, brow furrowing and then releasing.

“Marriage? Do you really mean it?”

“I know I’ve nothing to offer, but if you’d let me I’d care for you and Fergus, and treat him as my own. I’d support you to be the person you were always meant to be and make sure you knew every day how cherished you were. I love you in so many ways Claire. Will you be my wife?”

Heart beats passed like hours as his words hung in the air. Unexpected — even to him — as the proposal had been, he’d meant every word. His love for Claire was all consuming and he knew down to his bones that she was the one for him. Perhaps it was just a kiss to her, but for Jamie anything less than marriage was never going to be enough. It was all or nothing from here and whatever her response, it would change his life forever.

“I love you too. I would be honoured to marry you”

With a loud whoosh the air left Jamie’s lungs. Struggling to comprehend her words, he’d been so expectant of a rejection that he had no idea what to do next. She said yes.

“Are ye really sure?”

_______________________

Continue reading here

Thank you so much to everyone that’s reading this, it means so much. Hope you enjoy 😊

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Elysium

Within the next 24 hours, you had been given a crash course into vampiric, or otherwise known as Kindred, unlife. Leon taught you how to rouse the blood, something you would need to do every night before you could rise from your dead slumber. 

“Never go to bed hungry,” he warned. “You may not wake up for weeks.”

The next important thing was to use it for what he called the ‘Blush of Life’, so that you could pretend to look human. Without it, your skin was the color of ash, you were icy cold to touch and had no heartbeat. You remembered the shock on your face when you peered in the mirror at your grayish body and listless eyes. Resting his hand on your shoulder, he murmured, “You’re still beautiful to me.” You shrugged it off without a response.

Mending wounds required rousing the blood and so did using certain powers within ‘Disciplines’, but you hadn’t fully crossed that bridge yet. Apparently by focusing and channeling it through your blood, you would eventually be able to call upon the innate gifts endowed by your clan. 

Some already occurred passively for you. Like when Leon tested you by hurling a glass at your face spontaneously. You caught it with perfect timing, assuming it was just by pure luck. But he rewarded you by throwing another, which you seized again flawlessly; your reflexes working double time compared to normal. He said it was dubbed ‘Celerity’.

“What the fuck, Leon?” you seethed, before smashing the glasses to the ground.

He sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

As for the other abilities, they would come with time as you honed your craft. Leon appeared to be positively cheerful about the whole thing though. “You’re doing really well,” he praised. “I’m sure you’ll pick them up fairly quickly, especially the simpler ones.”

“Like the Jedi mind trick?” you scoffed, referring to the time he pulled that on you in the park.

Pursing his lips, he ignored your jibe and clarified cautiously, “Yes, though that would be under Presence.” 

He stretched out his back on his armchair; it took a lot out of his patience to educate you. You weren’t the easiest student to handle, seeing as how you were the opposite of what he had been like with Ada, always challenging him head-on, as if you were trying to catch him out on any slips he made. Not to mention the endless snarky remarks you doled out.

“There’s one more — Auspex, but we don’t have to worry about all of this for now.”

You huffed, shaking your head at all the strange terminology you had to put up with this evening. There were many things that depended on rousing, but that also meant that sometimes your hunger would increase. It was like Russian Roulette, you never knew when you’d get hit. And then, the topic that you’d been dreading came up.

“Feeding,” he began. “There are many ways to do it, but keep it discreet.”

“I’m sure bashing the guy on the head the other night was warranted,” you argued, your tone still fraught with bitterness.

His brows knitted into a slight frown. “It was an emergency,” he muttered, before attempting to change the subject.

Heading towards the fridge in his open plan kitchen, he opened it and handed you what appeared to be a blood bag. “If you want, you could try one of these… but they’re not to everyone’s tastes.”

You squished the liquid contents inside the PVC bag between your hands, causing it to pool on one side and then the other. Playing with your food. You shuddered. The concept was still so alien to you.

“The medical ones are almost undrinkable. However, the unprocessed ones could work, at least for you. Doesn’t really do anything for the older ones among us,” he explained, though there was a momentary pause when he noticed your discomfort.

“Hey, you okay?” Reaching out for the bag, he placed it back on the fridge shelf after you surrendered the item to him silently. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now. But, uh, we can go slow.” He swallowed anxiously, hoping he hadn’t touched a raw nerve with the subject matter. 

Gesturing towards the compartment, he mentioned, “I have a couple of these in here now. You’re free to have them at any time… or not.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” you mumbled, nodding despondently as you turned in the other direction. He was trying to be nice, but everything that had happened so far felt like a bad dream you wanted to escape from. You still couldn’t accept your new reality.

“Would you like to take a break?” he asked tentatively. “We don’t have to continue with this tonight, if you want.”

Clearing your throat, you waved away his concern, trying to put on a brave front. “No, it’s fine. You said it won’t be long before we’d be called in front of the Prince… and Sheriff?” The pitch of your voice rose at the end of your sentence, uncertain of whether you had used the right titles; they sounded foreign to you, as if you were living in medieval times. 

He had already explained to you the rough details of what had happened when you’d been attacked. It was difficult to wrap your head around the implications behind it, but the demonic face of your assailant continued to haunt you. Did you now have to testify in a sort of court? Would they bring you in for further questioning? How exactly did the judicial process work in this world? 

According to Leon, Kindred culture and politics were a completely different ball game from those in the mortal world. So, as much as you had a tendency to wing it in your previous life, you were way out of your league in this one.

“I’m guessing with the shit that went down, I should try to be prepared.” You gazed at Leon intently, trying to read from his expression how bad the situation was. 

There was a slight shift in movement of his lips, but other than that, nothing. Damn that man and his poker face.

“Okay, I’ll teach you what I can.” He took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. This time, you didn’t pull away. “Just stop me at any point.”

He spent a substantial period enlightening you about The Traditions, the laws of the Camarilla — the sect you now belonged to, unfortunately not by choice. The first law and most crucial of them all, was to uphold the Masquerade and prevent anyone from knowing about the existence of your kind. As of now, Leon, being your creator, or sire, was responsible for your actions until you progressed on from being a fledgling to a neonate. Basically, a point in time where you wouldn’t be treated as a baby anymore. 

You began to understand that this was the same crappy autocratic system you had despised as a human, rife with contradictions. Especially when Leon proceeded to tell you about what he jokingly coined ‘Tradition 0’.

“The thing is, I can go on about all these rules, but whatever you do, don’t get caught.” He adjusted himself uneasily on his high stool, supposedly half-regretting what he had just informed you. You had a rebellious streak, he always knew that, and perhaps even liked it; living vicariously through your actions. But he was putting you in a dangerous spot by encouraging it.

“You’re telling me this?” you coughed out a laugh.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he cautioned right after, but you rolled your eyes at his remark. Typical.

“I’m just saying some rules are bullshit—”

“Glad we can agree on something,” you taunted.

“Right, well,” he sighed, the dull pounding at the temples of his head starting to grow more persistent. “Be smart about it.”

With that, he presented a burner phone and pager, nearly identical to the ones he owned. You grimaced at the old-fashioned, brick devices in front of you. One of the things Leon had iterated was the Camarilla’s blanket tech ban. He said it was a safety precaution against the Second Inquisition, or ‘SI’ for short, who’d managed to infiltrate hordes of Kindred through their carelessness. Personally, he shared his doubts about that, surmising it was more about the older generation’s fear of technology, and using the ban as yet another form of control.

“Technically speaking, you’re not even allowed to have one of these.” A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he jiggled the phone, hoping you’d appreciate his word play. You didn’t, providing him with nothing more than a scowl.

Tough crowd, he shrugged before setting it down on the counter. “Anyway, I’m guessing your colleague’s gonna start worrying about your radio silence very soon.”

Fuck, Patrick. In the whirlwind of events, you’d forgotten about your instructions to him the other night.

“Pager’s usually for any comms from the Prince, among other more, uh, unconventional methods.” He recalled one of Hunnigan’s rats tailing him along the street with a spellbound look in its eyes, the dead drops, and the codes in graffiti at specific locations around the city, mimicking secret messages on ancient Venetian walls.

First things first though, you needed to allay any worries that resulted from your absence. You grabbed the phone, flipping it open. What was once a novel experience with Leon at the cafe now felt like a chore. You were unused to the stiff buttons, tiny screen and pixelated graphics as you punched in the numbers.

Pressing the age-old phone to your ear, the ringtone eventually came to halt, and you heard someone fumble on the other end of the line, along with a muffled shout over a wall of background noise, “Yeah, just a minute!”

“Patrick?” you addressed purposefully.

“Jesus! Where’ve you been? I tried calling you a million times; went straight to voicemail. Everyone’s been asking around for you! Did that guy—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I, um—” you glanced over at Leon as he eyed you inquisitively, wondering how you’d talk your way out of this one. 

“Lost my phone; think I dropped it somewhere,” was the classic excuse you settled with.

Leon nodded approvingly.

“Explains the unknown number,” Patrick inferred. “Anyway, you coming in?”

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Uh, actually, I��m not feeling so hot.” That was at least a partial truth. “Gonna take this shift off too. Tell the rest I’m sorry.”

There was a low, static chuckle. “Must’ve been a wild night, huh?”

“Come on, seriously?” you guffawed, cursing workplace gossip with a passion. “It wasn’t—”

“Later, boss,” he drawled. “You deserve it.” He hung up before you had a chance to argue any further.

“Yeah, fuck you too, Patrick,” you grumbled, slamming the phone’s cover back onto itself as Leon failed to stifle a snicker. 

He’d eavesdropped on the entire conversation. You flipped him off in response, which earned you an even louder chortle.

Both of you were interrupted by a series of beeps coming from Leon’s pager. He swiped it up in his right hand, taking a peek. His jaw tightened visibly, setting into a hard line as he regarded you with a rigid expression. 

“The Prince beckons.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Huddling under the parasol that Leon held out to shield you from the pouring rain, you walked briskly beside him. Your heeled boots clacked along the city pavement, as you headed towards what appeared to be an inconspicuous underground shelter. Drawing closer, you saw the distinct mark of the Umbrella Corporation logo at its entrance. 

Security cameras lined the walls and an access control pad lit up by the side. Scanning his magnetic token against the reader, he keyed in a numeric code which caused a set of doors to open, allowing you to enter an elevator shaft.

“Umbrella’s involved?” you gasped in incredulity. It never occurred to you that the multinational conglomerate would be so intrinsically tied to the underworld.

Leon shot you a dour look, his brows puckered as a clear sign of his discomfort. “Yeah, the Prince is its biggest investor.”

You clucked your tongue. No wonder they’d always seemed shady. “So, this Prince… has he got a name?”

“Mm hm, Wesker.”

Given the way he had spat it out, you didn’t have to be a genius to guess that Leon wasn’t very fond of the man in any respect. It wasn’t a surprise, since to you, all corporate overlords were the same — evil, money-grabbing assholes.

“You would do well to follow my lead when we meet him,” he counseled gravely, as you reached the bottom level of the place, and stepped out onto the platform that serviced one of Umbrella’s many private subways across the city.

You were the only ones in the empty station. It was eerily silent until you boarded the automated train, whereupon a robotic voice announced, “This train is bound for NEST. Do not exit until the final destination.”

Leon’s mood seemed to grow increasingly morose the further you journeyed towards Elysium, where the Prince had his quarters open as a neutral ground for the Camarilla vampires to be entertained, relax and attend to important discussions. It just so happened that Wesker considered himself to be the greatest scientist ever known to mankind and fancied his Elysium to be instated within Umbrella’s laboratory complex. Apparently, the location had been considered unorthodox, but no one dared to challenge the Prince, instead resorting to petty complaints behind his back.

As he gave you a brief rundown of the place, who you should avoid and how you should behave, the train braked, stopping at the facility’s station. Leon’s final words of warning echoed in your ears, “Remember, you answer to me, and only me. Not to my sire, not to anyone else. Got that?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have made some flippant remark and opposed his sudden display of authority over you, but you’d never seen him this unnerved before. He steeled himself, his countenance turning stoic and impenetrable; the only remnant of who he was shone through his sapphire eyes. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person and you weren’t sure what to make of it. Instead, you chose to hold your tongue and observe the situation. Nodding quickly, you stuck close to him as he requested while entering the sterile, clinical setting of Wesker’s inner sanctum.

As you walked across an extended bridge towards the East Area, you noticed cliques of what you assumed were other vampires hanging around the pathways and the circular main shaft. Sipping on scarlet liquid in wine glasses, they whispered to each other, sneering as they gave you the side-eye.

Your ears pricked up as you tried to zero in on their hushed conversations. All at once, you heard a cacophony of voices surrounding you.

“She won’t last a week.”

“I’ll give her three days at most.”

“I heard she tasted delicious.”

“No wonder Leon couldn’t restrain himself.”

The voices were overwhelming, coming from all directions, and at times sounding right up close to your ear. You felt woozy and nearly stumbled, if not for Leon wrapping his arm around to catch you. He threw you a look of concern, but said nothing as he led you away from the crowd.

“Easy there, wouldn’t want to accidentally fall off the ledge now, would we?”

You ignored the feminine voice, allowing her silvery laughter to wash over you as you resolved to focus on the task ahead. Harden yourself, you breathed, imagining a void abyss into which your emotions could be emptied. Leon had mentioned they would try to faze you, and you knew now, more than ever, that in order to make it out of here in one piece, you’d need to place your trust in the man who had upended your very life.

From one door to the next, the way this complex was built seemed to mimic that of a spacecraft. The final set of doors swooshed open as its panels glided along the tracks. You set foot into a neatly manicured greenhouse, its lower temperature and misty atmosphere contributing to the lushness of the plants it housed. 

There was a tall, athletically built man in a full black formal ensemble, topped with a smart, matching coat, standing with his back to you on an elevated section of the room that served as a podium. His sandy, almost platinum blonde hair was gelled back tidily, and his hands, donned with fitted black leather gloves, were interlocked behind him in a military stance. He appeared to be fixated on something through a glass window below him. 

At his side stood a svelte lady with a tousled, brunette bob, dressed mostly in camouflage garb except for a striking cobalt blue tank top. She wielded a broad, heavy-duty steel machete, its surface catching the light and casting a menacing glint. A Doberman Pinscher sat obediently by her side, vigilantly surveying its surroundings.

It was only when you passed through the pathway connecting the entrance to the podium that you realized others were lurking around the shrubbery. Their eyes gleamed in a variety of otherworldly colors as they looked on with aroused interest at the spectacle before them. The vibe was tense, but you couldn't quite place your finger on the exact cause.

As Leon reached the edge of the stairs leading up to where Wesker was standing, he placed his hand diagonally across his chest, bowing in reverence. “My Prince,” he greeted, casting a stern glance at you to indicate that you should follow. 

You dipped your head in an awkward semi-bow, feeling completely out of place amid the formality of such a situation. He wrinkled his nose at your halfhearted attempt but left it at that, deciding it would work more in your favor not to make an obvious fuss over it. It was only then that the formidable man turned around to acknowledge the pair of you. His height, accentuated by the elevated platform, made him appear even more imposing as he towered over you. Although he sported a pair of pitch black sunglasses, you could still see the red glow of his eyes like burning embers behind them.

“Leon Kennedy and his newly Embraced childe.” He grinned wolfishly, though you didn’t understand what was so funny. “I realize your initiation to unlife was under… rather dire circumstances. My sincerest apologies.”

The tone of his voice seemed to suggest that he was mocking you, rather than being genuinely sympathetic to your plight. Your temper was beginning to flare up again, but when you peered over at Leon, you saw the strained look in his eyes and the tautness of his neck, almost as if he was pleading for Wesker to show some form of mercy. His vulnerability struck at your core, and you felt a sense of pity for him to be reduced to such a docile position. Biting your tongue, you quelled the simmering anger that was threatening to boil over.

“Such fire in her eyes,” Wesker tutted, smirking at Leon knowingly, though your sire remained expressionless. Holding out his arms, he welcomed you with them, “Let me have a closer look at you.”

For the first time you had entered Elysium, a bone chilling fear ran through your entire body, though it was soon replaced by the warmth and weight of Leon’s hand on your back, gently coaxing and ushering you towards Wesker with a reassuring gaze. You knew he was supporting you through this, despite harboring the same trepidation and dread within himself.

Once you were inches away from Wesker, he reached out, tucking his fingers under your chin to tilt your face from side to side under the harsh beams of light hanging overhead from the ceiling. “Hmm, not bad.” He licked his lips suggestively. “Tell me, Leon, did she taste as good as Sherry?”

Sherry? Who was—

“I am certain that Sherry is more suited to your palette, Prince.” His evasiveness carried a wisp of sadness. 

A respectable Prince never needed to rely on any of his Disciplines to incite fear and control over others in Court. Wesker, as a Ventrue, was more than skilled at Dominate, and could have chosen to use it indiscriminately. But what good is a Prince who relies on the powers of the blood to achieve his desires? A weak pushover. An idiot who should’ve been overthrown yesterday. 

Leon knew that Wesker reveled in prodding at his vulnerable spots with an invisible stick just to put him in his place. In turn, he was expected to perform this little monkey dance each time around the Prince for his acceptance. He just prayed that you would continue to be sensible; you were trying your best so far to temper your emotions and he was proud of you.

“Very well.” Wesker released your face, before signaling to someone at the back of the room. “Bring the rat in,” he summoned.

A scrawny man clad in a torn and bloodied hoodie was dragged by his chains towards the center of the room. His face had been mutilated and bizarre, occult symbols were burnt into his skin. Kicked to the ground, he sniveled woefully, scrambling to clasp his hands together as he begged, “P-please, I-I don’t know anything else, I swear!”

“Silence!” his captor roared.

Turning back to you, Wesker gestured towards the prisoner. “This abomination was part of the group that attacked your kind. They conducted what we call a Mass Embrace,” he lectured. 

“If your sire taught you well, you would know which of the Traditions were broken?” The lilt at the end of his sentence informed you that this was a test, as he peered at you expectantly.

You caught a glimpse of recognition in Leon’s eyes, as he offered a subtle smile in encouragement.

“Two of them,” you answered, crossing your fingers that you had memorized the text correctly. “Breaching the Masquerade and unsanctioned siring of another Kindred.”

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. “Indeed,” Wesker commended. 

For some reason, he then decided to recite the Third Tradition in its entirety, as if hinting at something to you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder. If thou createst another without thine Elder's leave, both thou and thy progeny shalt be slain.”

Before you could respond, the woman with the machete stepped forward. “I am ready to fulfill my duty, Prince.”

“Oh, Jill.” He gave her a fond side smile. “So eager for blood.”

There was a slight pause before he nodded. “Final Death. See to it then, my trusted Sheriff.”

In an instant, she leapt across the wide distance separating the Prince from the captive, and hacked off the screaming man’s head with one clean sweep. You flinched, shielding your eyes from the gruesome display as the other vampires murmured to each other animatedly. 

This was meant as a lesson. Wherever you went, you would be observed and judged, and if necessary, put down like a dog just as that vampire had been.

As the corpse was carried away, the rest of the audience took their cue to leave the vicinity, boredom setting onto their faces once again as they sauntered out. You were about to head down the stairs, when Wesker grabbed your wrist, motioning for Leon to join him as well. “Wait a moment, little one,” he cooed.

When the room had emptied out save for the three of you and Jill in the background, Wesker spoke up, directing his question to your sire, “Since you were at the scene, any guesses as to who might be responsible?”

“Well, based on the particulars of the Embrace, and their love for creating shovelheads, the obvious choice would be the Sabbat. The clues seem to point there at least,” Leon deduced logically. “The Anarchs would be fools to pull off something so bold… and stupid.”

“The Sabbat, those insolent rats,” Wesker hissed. A hint of rage tainted his voice, as he balled his gloved hand into a tight fist, causing the leather to pile and squeak. “Do you know how much trouble this incident has caused me?”

“The Raccoon City newspapers and broadcasting network have been going off their rockers about this,” Jill piped up, making her way over with her Doberman in tow. “The fire covered up any real evidence, but the Raccoon Police Department suspects foul play. They’re calling for witnesses.”

“Leon, I have come to value your experience, especially with such delicate matters,” Wesker remarked. “I want you to investigate this for me. We can’t have any more of these imbeciles popping up where they shouldn’t be. Next thing you know, the SI comes knocking at our door.”

He glanced over at you again as a calculating smile spread across his face. “Take the fledgling with you. Let this be a way to prove herself as an asset to our domain.”

“As you wish, my Prince,” Leon obliged, though you could tell that he was dismayed by the outcome.

“Jill will brief you about the case after you’ve had your refreshments,” he continued. “Otherwise, our meeting here is concluded.”

At this, he released his grip on your wrist, the imprint of his hand still visible around it. Leon took the opportunity to loop his arm protectively around your waist, pulling you snugly against him as he escorted you toward the exit. You hated to admit it, but after the overwhelming events of today, you were thankful for the comfort he provided you.

However, after settling into a private booth in the lounge on the lower level of the East Area, Wesker’s words came back to haunt you. “Thou shalt sire another only with permission of thine Elder.”

The tenet ran through your mind over and over again, until it finally dawned on you that your Embrace was by no accident. Leon had planned to turn you all along. You would have been beheaded by Jill if he hadn’t acquired Wesker’s permission in advance.

Your lips quivered as you stopped drinking the ruddy fluid from the glass that had been offered to you on the way in. It clinked as you placed it down on the crystal countertop before facing the man in question.

“You’re a goddamn liar, you know that?” you reproached, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. 

With just one look at you, he knew that you had discovered his dirty little secret. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. I was going to give you the choice,” he asserted, shuffling closer in desperation as he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand.

“Like hell you were!” you jeered, pushing him back by the shoulders.

“I’m telling you the truth!” he exclaimed, unwilling to let you go as his eyes darted in panic, and his expression crumpled into despair. “Please, you have to believe me.”

Suddenly, the curtains drew open as a sultry, contralto voice rang out, “There you are!”

You jolted towards the source, finding yourself face-to-face with a glamorous lady in a rouge thigh-high slit dress. Her raven black hair was styled into a sleek, angular bob cut which was tucked behind her ears. A foxy smirk played across her bold red lips.

“Oh, Leon, why haven’t you introduced us? I’ve heard so much about you.”

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us//Part 2: When Doves Cry vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader//True Blood AU

⚠️18+Only pls⚠️ adult themes, blood, drinking blood, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, violence, reader and vampire!Eddie both get physically hurt--but they end up okay, talk of needles, alcohol consumption, talk of addiction, mention of sex, sanguivoriphobia, talk of the supernatural, death. Word Count: 6.7k

Series Masterlist

Summary: You start your first day at Main Vein, the vampire/human crossover bar owned by Bob Newby, flanked by vampire!bartender!Argyle and you learn what a risk humans can be to vampires as you begin to navigate their world. You and Eddie have to rescue each other as you're forced to share an intimate exchange that brings you irrevocably close. Playlist

Important words/phrases for this chapter: Fanger (derogatory term for vampires) Fang Banger (derogatory term for people who like to be bitten by vampires during sex) Sanguivoriphobia (fear of vampires)

✂️

If you are in the group of people who are familiar with True Blood, parts of this chapter will feel familiar. I won't be sticking to the storyline of the show religiously, but there are so many clever elements I wanted to incorporate. Please read the warnings above, as some of the things mentioned in this chapter might not be for everyone. ❤️

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Death Becomes Us Part 2: When Doves Cry

For years, you tried to cover your scars up with makeup, but then they ended up looking lumpy and odd, and it made people stare even harder trying to figure out what was under the heavy layers of foundation and powder. You’d never met anyone like you before, and it made you feel a type of deep loneliness that you never talked about because you knew no one would understand.

You’d left some tuna on your porch for Dio before you went to bed, and you were pleased to find the saucer licked clean when you left your trailer the next day. You could tell that she was well fed and that your nasty vampire neighbor was taking good care of her, but you wanted to reward her for proving to Eddie that she did, indeed, like someone other than him.

The white BMW was gone, and the old van was back, parked next to Eddie’s trailer. You were more curious and interested in whatever he was up to than you should be, considering you wanted nothing to do with him.

It was still daylight out when you rolled up early to Main Vein, and Bob got you to work writing out the specials on a sandwich board in your best handwriting, to hopefully attract customers in as they strolled by on the sidewalk. You shadowed Bob as he taught you the basics of tending bar while a couple humans (also known as “breeders” in the vampire world, because vampires, of course, could not procreate) came in for a few simple beers, and one guy ordered a jack and coke.

As a child, you were always an emphatic soul; you could tell what a person was feeling, even if they told you with their words that they were feeling something else. It was a trauma response to surviving in the emotional chaos you grew up in. Now, since the accident, you could read human emotions and intentions with ten times the intensity.

Vampires, on the other hand, were impervious to your gift—or, curse, as you often referred to it.

For instance, you could tell that Bob Newby had a heart of gold; his enthusiasm was not a fake front to hide dark intentions. He truly loved his vampire girlfriend, whom you had yet to meet, and he harbored nothing but the best intentions in the brainstorming of his human/vampire crossover bar Main Vein. He believed that vampires were good people who just happened to be dead, and that we were all equals, despite the fact that they were stronger, faster, immortal, and subsided on blood alone.

You were behind the bar, concentrating on putting the exact amount of alcohol in a drink that the recipe card in front of you called for, when Argyle slid in next to you and bumped your arm. His skin felt like ice.

“Careful!” He snickered. “Don’t spill any,” but half of the liquid had already dripped down your fingers. Since you couldn’t get a read on vampire’s emotions, it was a relief for you to be around them. Feeling other people’s emotions often meant that you had to experience them, and that was not to your benefit in many cases. Being around crowds of people sapped your energy in a way you still struggled to recover from.

Argyle wore his black hair straight and parted down the middle; it was shiny and soft and you wanted to touch it. He had on a colorful, button down shirt, and a blue visor that said Main Vein on it. He nodded at what you were working on, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whadda we got going on here?”

You sighed and told him what the customer ordered. Argyle smiled and waved you off. “I got this, foxy dudette. Let the master take over,” he cracked his knuckles and interlaced his fingers, flexing his palms out before he brought things from the under bar at lightning speed.

You were more than happy to shove off and get to the group at the front waiting to be seated.

When you were half way there with menus tucked under your arm, you realized that this group was mean and anxious and desperate; a combination that made alarms go off inside of you as your skin exploded in a wash of goosebumps.

They were nice enough to your face, though. It was a woman with two men, all dressed in denim and plaid; one of the men had an American flag on the front of his t-shirt. The other one had his greasy hair squished under a trucker cap, and two missing teeth in front. The redhead woman wore an Ed Hardy tube top under her flannel, and she was pretty in a whiskey and Marlboro reds kind of way. Her smile was big and gracious as she smacked her green gum, and they followed you to a booth.

They ordered a round of beers with potato skins from the appetizer menu, and just as you excused yourself to give their order to Bob in the kitchen, the woman grabbed your wrist.

You squeezed your eyes closed until you could calm the surge that went through your body when you felt threatened, waiting for the fire behind your eyes to settle before you met her gaze again.

“Sorry, darlin’ but this is a bar for vampires, too, right?” She was bent forward, whispering to you, her pupils tightly pinned in her dusty blue eyes. There was a faded, long stem rose tattoo on her white freckled forearm.

“Um, yes,” you looked around. “Will there be more with your party? Should I bring over a menu with our plasma options?”

The two men chuckled across the table at each other as if you’d just made a joke.

“That’s okay, baby,” the woman said sweetly, releasing your arm. “But, are there any vampires in here right now? Me and the boys were just hoping to see one up close, is all.”

You thought about what they were asking you, and the fact that their emoting of desperation was getting stronger, and decided not to point Argyle out to them. They’d eventually figure that one out for themselves because he loved to show his teeth. “I’m not really sure,” you lied with a shrug. “I never can tell the difference.”

The woman frowned and turned back to the two men as they started to discuss something.

The other waitress, a human named Erica Sinclair, tucked her Main Vein t-shirt into her shorts as she joined you on the floor, rolling her eyes. Bob introduced the two of you in a rush as he flipped a burger, and Erica gave you a bored look, but her gaze did not linger on your your scars like most. “You’re new here, right? You’re smiling, so you must be. Nothing much to smile about around here.”

You told her you’d only been in town a few days as you grabbed a second round of beers for the table that had been asking about vampires. You weren’t paying too much attention when the front door opened, but then some of the other customers seemed to still, conversations coming to a halt, and Erica’s attention shifted over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

The song When Doves Cry by Prince was playing on the stereo system as you turned on your heel to witness your neighbor Eddie step across the threshold with ease; one initial invitation was all that was needed, apparantly. According to Bob, invitations could also be reversed if necessary. It was the couple waiting behind Eddie for their invitation that alerted everyone to the presence of something supernatural.

The two behind him could’ve easily passed as “regular” mortals. They had a very mom and pop look about them; she was a brunette in a floral dress and he was in trousers, a dark blue button down, and had a receding hairline. She clutched her white handbag at her stomach, and the man with her had his hand at her back, coaxing her in.

Eddie pretended not to see you there as he cupped a hand to light his cigarette and made his way over to the bar to take his normal seat at the end to order a Fang Tang, not even giving a second glance to the vampires stuck outside. Maybe they weren’t his friends? Not all vampires were friends, surely, as you were not close with all humans.

Bob would’ve been the first to greet them and welcome them in, but he was knee deep in the kitchen, wearing his “Bob the Brain” custom embroidered apron, and when you turned to Erica, she shook her head. “I’m not a fan of the Fangers myself. It’s going to take me a minute to get used to this new world.”

Your eyes snapped to Argyle, but he was busy at the other end of the bar doing a Tom Cruise juggling act with the booze to impress two of the local Fang Bangers.

So you straitened your shirt, squared your shoulders, and made your way over to greet them.

Meanwhile, the redhead woman with the rose tattoo on her arm and the two men with her were hyper focused on the new arrivals; you could feel the cold, wet tug of some kind of rot in their veins, surging though them and clouding their rational thoughts.

At the time, you did not know that there was an underground market for vampire blood, not only for its healing properties, but the euphoric high and transcendent experience it gifted the user. It enhanced sexual performance and gave humans the mental prowess of superhuman strength. Needless to say, it was a highly prized commodity; expensive and addictive.

Hunched at the bar in his leather and battle vest, and a handkerchief hanging from his back pocket, Eddie appeared to be ignoring you as you walked to greet the newcomers. You had never professionally invited a vampire in before, so you might have overcompensated with how cheerful your tone was. “Welcome to Main Vein,” you plastered a smile across your face. “Please enter and follow me. I will show you to your seat,” you also added a slight bow and extension of your arm like you were back in theater class again.

They stepped inside with a swoosh—a sound like they were breaking some invisible barrier you couldn’t see. They asked for a booth, and the only one out of the five that was available happened behind the party that was eager to see vampires up close: now they would get their chance. This vampire couple was not at all what you envisioned when people talked of “bloodsuckers from hell”. They seemed grateful to be able to come out to a bar with regular people---perhaps it reminded them of the human lives they’d once lived.

The guy in the trucker hat with two missing teeth turned around in his seat to get a better look as they sat and you offered them the plasma menus. You explained the different categories for synthetic blood, and how each offered the same taste and nutrients as real human blood. They offered replicas of a whole range of blood types, for those vampires with discerning palettes. You frowned at the guy in the trucker hat to make him turn back around and take his seat.

On your way back to the kitchen, Erica caught you by the elbow, her eyes wide. “What did they say to you?”

“They just wanted menus,” you said with a shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the couple in question. “I don’t think they’re all as bad as they seem on the news.”

“Oh, believe me,” She gave you a dire look. “They are evil. Don’t let the Laura Ashley dress and the Newport loafers fool you.” Truly, Erica had not yet properly met more than a handful of vampires in her life, she’d only heard the rumors.

“Have you ever met one?” You asked, assuming that she’d known plenty.

“I’ve met enough of them,” she promised, hands on her hips, and then she gestured to your neighbor at the end of the bar. “I know Eddie. But that’s only because I met him...before the change. And I’m forced to be around Argyle because I work here.”

When Erica walked off, you made the mistake of glancing over at the Eddie in question, and he tried to lower his eyes to his synthetic blood beverage as if he hadn't been watching you.

Argyle was working a metal cocktail shaker over his shoulder when you came back to the bar, and he nudged his chin at you. “What’s up with the freaks?” He asked, referring to the redhead with the rose tattoo and the two beefy men with her. He filled two martini glasses with a dark red concoction and trimmed each with a tiny pink flower.

You leaned forward a bit so you wouldn’t have to yell, tilting your head. “They specifically asked if there were any vampires here tonight,” you glanced over at Eddie again, but he was engrossed in something he was doodling on a napkin. “Do you think they’re tourists?”

“Nah,” Argyle wiped his hands on the rag at his waist, eyeing the table in question. “That’s Angie Klemp and her inbred brothers. They’ve been around forever.”

You could tell by his expression that he was weary of them, and you knew that he had excellent hearing which probably allowed him to listen in on some of what they were saying as they huddled together at their booth.

Wanting to change the subject, Argyle winked at you. “You’re doing a rad job, surfer girl. These are for the vampire couple that just sat down,” he pushed the two martini glasses toward you. “It’s our signature synthetic blood cocktail. Tell them it’s on the house.”

As the night picked up a bit, you took an order to the wrong table and fumbled a glass that shattered behind the bar. While you were cleaning that up, and mumbling apologies to Argyle, a woman wearing glasses and her honey-streaked brown hair in a bob took a seat at the small table by the window. Erica had a tray of drinks in her hand, so you dumped a dustpan full of glass in the trash and went over to wait on the new guest.

“Do I know you?” You asked as you took your pad and pen out to take her order.

She clamped her top teeth over her bottom lip, tucking hair behind her ear, shyly. “I own the bookstore down the street,” she answered. “You were in earlier, but I never got a chance to introduce myself.”

Of course, it came to you almost as quickly as she said it. You’d been so early for work that you took a walk around the block and ended up wandering into the quaint bookshop on the corner with the wind chimes made from seashells in the window. You had mentioned to her as you purchased a used paperback that you were starting work that day.

“The bookstore with the cats,” you grinned, pointing your pen at her. There had, indeed, been two resident cats in the shop, lazily draped over their carpeted perches in the sun, and sleepy, cream colored bigger dog behind the front counter.

“That’s the one,” she nodded, and then she stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Robin, in case you ever come back in, you can ask for me,” that seemed to fluster her and she shook her head. “You don’t have to ask for me, I’m usually there, but if you ever come by again, that would be nice.” Her cheeks got pink as she fumbled for the glass of ice water in front of her and took a sip.

You met her eyes and told her that you be back in soon to finish the series you were reading, and then she ordered a glass of wine with her salad. You could tell her heart was racing. She was nervous and excited to see you, as if maybe she’d had to give herself a pep talk before she came in. You noticed there was a certain warmth about her that wasn’t present in other humans. Whereas vampires were abnormally cold; Robin was pumping off heat like she had a temperature, and you were instantly fascinated by her.

----------

A bit later in the evening, Eddie said his goodbyes to Argyle, and you took casual note of his departure out of the corner of your eye while you bussed a table.

What you also noticed was the way Angie Klemp and her brothers paid quickly, and got up to follow Eddie out only a minute behind him. They’d had 6 beers and just as many tequila shots between them, and you got the feeling that they were up to no good. The two men were tapping their knees under the table, and scratching their necks and hands as if being actively attacked by ants.

The pulses of emotional electricity coming off of them instantly made your pores on your scalp blossom with sweat at how panicked they were; how hell bent. But again, what would they want with Eddie? To take their picture with him? That was a common tourist occurrence in Hawkins. But, the tourists in question usually preferred the subject to look like a stereotypical vampire; maybe wearing a cape, or dressed like Elvira. As far as you could tell, vampires usually kept with the same style they had when they were turned.

Eddie did naturally have that “vampire” look, though. He was a loner, he wore all black, he had spooky tattoos, and that long dark hair framing his pale face.

You were refilling someone’s water when you overheard Erica tell a guy at the bar to stop staring at her ass before she stabbed his eyes out with her pen, and it made you chuckle, mostly because you knew she wasn’t bluffing.

Ten minutes or so later, you were grabbing napkins from the storeroom in the back hall when you heard high pitched voices, screaming at each other from the alleyway parking lot. You hesitated with your hand on the shelf, wondering if it was just two people arguing and probably none of your business, but then you heard another scream, and decided to crack the door and peek out.

You had to scan the area at first, but then your eyes widened as they took in what was happening: against the brick wall of the next building, in a parking space between two cars, your neighbor Eddie was on the ground, his neck and wrists wrapped in silver chain, pinning him to the ground. You gasped and swallowed as you saw the steam rise up from where the silver was burning his flesh, his mouth set in a grimace.

Angie Klemp made fast work of jabbing a needle into the crease of each of his elbows draining his blood through tubing into clear bags. The brother in the American flag shirt paced at Eddie’s feet, barely able to contain his need for the drug, and the other one with two missing teeth kicked Eddie in the leg and then spat on him. “Yeah? Whadda ya think about that? Not so tough now, are you, Fanger?”

You stepped inside only to grab the fire extinguisher off the wall before heading back out, careful not to make any noise as the door shut. You tip toed around so that you were hidden behind the van next to them.

Angie seemed to be doing all the work, jerking the port out to fill another bag on the filthy pavement. “Goddamn it, I knew we should’ve taken him home first. This is risky as hell.”

“There’s no time for that!” The brother with two missing teeth took his hat off and scratched his head viciously. “I need some of the blood now, can’t I just have a little bit?”

Angie threw him a disgusted look. “You’re a fuckin’ addict, Clyde. How are we supposed to make money on this shit if you drink up all the profits? Get your shit together!”

You peeked your head out from behind the van, and Eddie saw you. His eyes were black and his fangs were out, but the silver had him rendered completely incapacitated. You could only imagine that the amount of blood they were taking was also making him weak.

You lifted up the fire extinguisher to let him know you were coming to his rescue, but he shook his head, trying to warn you off.

The two beefy men were too caught up in the throws of withdrawals and had their backs to you as you came up behind them. With a mighty heave, you cracked one in the back of the head with the big metal canister, and then when the other one turned around, you sprayed him in the face with the foam that comes out of the nozzle, blinding him. He clapped his hand to his face, yowling, and tripped himself on his own feet, going down hard.

Angie slowly stood, realizing that both men were on the ground, dazed, and she gave you a nasty snarl. “Why, you stupid, cut face whore,” she bit out just before she lunged at you.

You were about to swing the canister at her face when, from out of nowhere, a huge, boxy, beige pit bull terrier lunged from the darkness, barking and growling at Angie, barring its teeth, forcing her to back up. You looked down, a bit shocked: you’d never seen that dog before in your life. Would it attack you next? Hesitant, you let the dog move between the two of you, protectively, as it curled its lip and growled.

You pointed the nozzle at the woman. “Try us, bitch.”

The pit bull started barking a loud alarm that would soon have people coming to see what the hell was going on. Angie clenched her hands in the air as if she wanted to wring your neck, and then she was shouting for the two stumbling men to get in the truck.

“Go, go, go, you dickheads,” Angie demanded, grabbing the one covered in white goo by the collar, dragging him along.

The one with the crack to his skull was bleeding down the side of his head. “But what about the blood? Let’s take the blood!”

You and your new, aggressive pit bull friend stepped in front of Eddie, your weapon ready. “Don’t even think about it, fucker.”

You waited for them to pile in the truck and speed away before you dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground with a thunk and got on your knees next to Eddie, bits of gravel cutting into your shin.

The pit bull licked your cheek and stood guard next to you, looking from you to Eddie as if it understood everything that was going on, head tilting every so often. You were too concerned with how the silver was sizzling on his skin like bacon on a frying pan to wonder about your new companion. There were still needles in his arms and you slipped them out, cringing as you did so. You watched in awe as the hole marks in his arms disappeared and healed right before your very eyes.

“Can you move?” You asked him.

Eddie could barely talk, the pain of the silver was so excruciating. That, and he was extremely low functioning after so much blood loss. If those three had wanted to end him, they very well could have. He wondered how many vampires they had trapped and drained over the past few years.

He managed a scratchy, whispered, “no. It’s...the silver…”

With a gulp, you went to work unwrapping the chain from his neck and then his wrists, peeling layers of skin with it. He was an immortal vampire, but you could only imagine how much it must hurt, and yet, he hadn’t even made whimper.

His eyes never left you as you worked on him so diligently, your brows knitted together with focused determination. His neck was kinked forward, as his head and shoulders were propped up against the brick wall.

Unwrapping the last coil from around his wrist, you noticed that the wounds were staying the same, and you met his eyes. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I’m too weak right now,” his eyes flicked away from you. “I won’t be able to heal until I feed.”

At that, the pit bull whined, and took its cue to turn and disappear back into the night.

You looked over your shoulder at the door to Main Vein. “Would synthetic blood work?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head once, rolling it against the wall. “Has to be...human,” he breathed, bangs sticking to his clammy forehead.

His once rosy lips were pale and the mangled wounds left from the silver made you feel bad for him, even though you weren’t even sure if you liked him.

“What if I just left you here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Would you die?”

The corners of his mouth stuck together as he talked. “If I don’t feed soon, I won’t be able to protect myself. More will come to take my blood, and if I’m still out here at daybreak then, yes, the sunlight will kill me.”

Your gaze moved from his ripped throat to his eyes again, hovering there. There was a thick leather cuff on your wrist that you used to cover up your scar, but you undid the buckle, exposing the underside of your forearm. You wondered if he was too weak to expose his fangs, so you used the back of one of your earrings to slice a thin opening across your skin, wincing in pain as you did so.

Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation as you lifted the bleeding gash to his mouth. He couldn’t lift his arms, so you pressed it there, and his eyes locked on yours as you felt his tongue lick across the cut just before his eye went black and he began to suck, moaning, drinking you as a small trickle of blood dripped down to his chin.

At one point, he got some of his strength back, and his hand with the three silver, chunky rings came up to push your forearm against his eager mouth as he fed, and your heart raced at the sight of it. The passion of his need made your pussy clench around nothing as you knelt there in the grimy parking lot.

When his swallowing finally slowed, you tugged your arm away and clutched it to the underside of your apron. Eddie licked his blood-stained lips and met your eyes again. “Seriously,” he was strong enough now to brace his hands and push himself up so that his back was no longer on the ground. He leaned close as if he could read the answers in your eyes. “What are you?”

Your face was inches from his. “Do I taste different?”

“Yes,” he returned, without hesitation. The mauled skin around his neck and wrists were completely healed. “I’ve never tasted anyone like you before.”

You got to your feet, clipping your leather cuff back on, realizing you’d need to find a first aid kit before you went back to work.

“I owe you big time,” Eddie looked you up and down as he sat for a bit to catch his breath. “If you ever need---”

The back door to Main Vein opened and Erica was standing there with her arms crossed, shouting across the parking lot at you. “What the hell is going on out here? Am I working the floor by myself tonight or what?”

You walked to the back end of the van to tell her you’d be right in, and when you turned back to say something to Vampire Eddie---he was gone.

-------

“What the hell were you thinking?” Erica blanched as she helped you wrap up your arm at the desk in Bob’s office. “You know these Fangers eat people, right?”

She was still yelling, but you were trying not to take it personal. “Well, he didn’t eat me, so I guess there are exceptions.”

“What the hell do you call him drinking your blood, then?” Erica had a very soft touch while bandaging you up, careful to make sure she cleaned the wound and inspected you to make sure you didn’t have a bite mark.

“You girls okay?” Bob came around the corner, flushed, his face red and glistening in sweat from a long night behind the grill.

Erica jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. “This one decided to play vigilantly in the parking lot to save one of your vampire buddies.”

Bob beamed. “Aw, you made a vampire friend? They’re awesome aren’t they?”

This time, you and Erica exchanged a confused look.

---------

At the end of your shift, Bob and Argyle stayed to finish up with two vampire customers at the bar who were lingering. With a heavy sigh, you took your blue, blood-stained apron off, grabbed things from your wood cubby in the back, and then walked with Erica down to the end of the sidewalk. The two of you had to split up and go in separate directions because your hearse was parked at the curb, and Erica only lived a few blocks away. You offered her a ride home, but she declined. You could feel that she had some personal issues weighing on her heart, and besides that, she had a deep well of emotions inside for the people she cared about, and it took her a while to trust people and open up. If you didn’t have your curse, you’ve might’ve just assumed she hated you.

It was late, but because of growing vampire population in civilized areas, there were several lights in windows, and the low hum of conversations drifting down from higher up apartments. There were streetlamps on each corner, but the dark side of the building cast a heavy shadow on you as you fumbled for your keys.

You were just about to unlock the door when you heard the shuffling of footsteps, and then before you could turn, the hard edge of a rope edge dug into your neck, gagging you, and then you were yanked back, off your feet. You tried to scream, but it only came out as a gargle. Your ass caught most of the fall to the pavement, but then your head clapped back onto the hard surface and it caused a ringing sound in your skull. The person holding the rope around your neck pulled it tighter, and you struggled, kicking your feet, trying to get free.

Angie Klemp and her brother in the American flag t-shirt were standing above you, sneering. She kicked you in the ribs and you wailed at the pain. She squatted down to mock you. “Oh, darn, I guess that fanger boyfriend of yours isn’t around to return the favor now, is he?”

They were dragging you now, pulling you by the neck around into the alleyway where no one could see what they were about to do to you.

Your vision was getting blurry as you heard the woman's voice again. “You cost me five thousand dollars worth of fanger blood, and we’re gonna take it out of your ass.”

The rope burned as it slipped off your neck and you were somehow able to roll on your side and stand, just as one of the men punched you across the face and you went down again, coughing, tasting blood. You were on your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath, and one of them kicked the steel toe of their boot into your stomach, making you double over in pain as they laughed, tears squeezing from your eyes as you tasted bile.

You wondered if you were going to die there.

In a blink, with spots in your eyes, you tried to focus as you swore you saw the guy in the trucker hat get his neck broken right there where he stood. His head twisted all the way around, forced by seemingly invisible hands, and then he slumped to the ground, dead. Before the other two could figure out what was happening, you saw Eddie pick the guy with the American flag shirt up and throw him onto the hood of a car, his head crashing through the windshield with a bloody splat. Angie tried to run, but Eddie caught her by the back of her neck and picked her up off of her feet. With one hand, he threw her into the nearby dumpster and slammed the lid with a bang.

This had all been done in seconds; he moved at the speed of light.

You were on your side, choking on blood, feeling scared as your vision began to tunnel. But then, strong arms were lifting you up as Eddie scooped you against his chest, “I got you, I got you,” he murmured against your bloody head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You might have blacked out for a bit because when you opened your eyes, you were on the grass in the park across the street, propped up against a tree. You mewed in pain as your head throbbed and you choked on a sticky pool of blood in the back of your throat.

Eddie took his jacket and denim off as he knelt in front of you, revealing the Metallica t-shirt he had on. You tried to hold your head up as he produced his fangs and sank them into his own arm, and then held the leaking bite marks out to you.

“You need to drink my blood, so you can heal,” he said. He didn’t want to scare you in that moment, but you had a serious gash in your skull, and he had no idea how bad that kick you took had affected your internal organs.

You tried to push away from him, your eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“You won’t be,” he assured you. “Believe me, I don’t want this for you, either.”

There was a tenderness in him then that you were noticing for the first time. You’d been taken by surprise, but under normal circumstances, you would’ve been able to handle the Klemps on your own. You weren’t used to feeling helpless and in need of someone’s care. You could feel the blood dripping down your neck and your vision was starting to fade again.

“Just a little bit,” you breathed, sticky lips parted.

Eddie cupped your head in one hand as he brought his arm over, similar to how you had fed him earlier. The weeping holes from his fang marks were right in the middle of one of his tattoos and you closed your eyes as your mouth latched on, nursing on him like your life depended on it---which it did. It tasted ordinary, like sucking on a penny, but it felt like velvet on your tongue, warming your insides.

Consumed with a sudden lust for the juice in his veins, you sucked harder, whimpering, and you didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes went back as he growled in the back of his throat at the pleasure of the sensation. You drank until your brain stopped throbbing, and then you rested your head back against the tree, a smear of his blood across your chin.

You noticed Eddie was close to you, his mouth at your temple as he licked a bit of your blood from a scratch there as it was healing. You jerked to the side, surprised to catch him wanting to sample you again.

Your eyes locked. “What do I taste like?”

He searched your face, aroused by the sight of his blood on your mouth. “Like...memories. Like ice cream and summer breeze and suntan lotion melting on warm skin.”

Your lips were almost touching as he confessed this to you. There was no vocabulary for him to properly explain the many layered depth to your blood; it was sweet and savory, and it also tingled in the back of his throat like pop rocks or fireworks and made him feel alive again if only for a few moments.

You lifted your hand to your throat to find that the rope burn was gone, and your ribs didn’t feel like they were broken. You were just about to ask him another question, but then he was on his feet in a flash, putting his jacket on.

“Also,” he flipped his hair out of the collar of his leather. “Now that you have my blood in you, I’ll always know where you are,” it sounded more cryptic than he meant for it to, and so he added, “just in case you ever need my help again.”

You frowned. “But, how will you know if I need help?”

He busied himself rolling his cuffs up. “I’ll be able to sense your fear.”

You were letting that sink in when he spoke up again. “And don’t be surprised if you have some dreams about me.”

“Dreams?” You raised an eyebrow.

He turned his head and rested his tongue between his teeth as he figured out how to say it. “The sexual kind.”

“Oh,” you looked down, suddenly embarrassed. He stood there shuffling his foot on the grass and you had so many questions for him. How had he become a vampire? Was it something that he chose, or was it forced on him? How long had he been one? You were trying to choose which one to ask when he spoke.

“Hop up,” he said, gesturing for you to get on his back like you were a little girl. “I’ll take you back to your hearse.”

Normally, you hated when men tried to pick you up, but Vampire Eddie carried you across the street like you weighed no more than air. You had your arms around his shoulders and his hands were cupped under your thighs; the vanilla sandalwood of his hair blew across your face in soft tendrils. He lowered you to the ground once he got to the parking lot, and you both looked down the alleyway at the Klemp bodies that Eddie had dropped in his effort to rescue you.

You swallowed. “It’s illegal for vampires to kill humans,” you said in a hush. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this. I’ll tell the police I was---”

“No police,” Eddie stopped you in a gruff voice. His jaw muscles flexed as he turned to you. “It’s also illegal for humans to drain a vampire for sport,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and bit one with his teeth to pull it out of the pack. It bounced there as he talked, squinting one eye at you. “I’ll take care of them, you don’t have to worry about it, princess.”

Since he’d just saved your life, you decided to let him get away with the pet name.

He lit his smoke and took a tight, hissing inhale before aiming the exhale over your head. “I’ll stay here to make sure you get on the road okay.”

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah, I suppose I should get home and take a shower,” you noticed that your bag was in the gutter next to your front tire and you bent to pick it up, along with your keys up. “Guess I’ll see you around the trailer park.”

Inside the hearse, you watched from your rear view mirror as vampire Eddie leaned his back against the wall to smoke and make sure no one bothered you. He picked something off his tongue as you started the engine, and then you lowered your head to shift into gear.

You were not surprised this time to find him gone when you looked up.

-----

"Dig if you will the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss The sweat of your body covers me Can you my darling? Can you picture this? Dream if you can, a courtyard An ocean of violets in bloom Animals strike curious poses They feel the heat The heat between me and you How could you just leave me standing alone in a world so cold?"

-- When Doves Cry//Prince

------

Part 3: The taste of you

——-

Thank you for reading!

[bracketsoffear]

Welcome to the Brackets of Fear!

Yes, it's time for another tumblr poll about TMA Fear Avatars -- with a twist. There will be no characters from The Magnus Archives. Instead, I ask that you submit your favorite characters from other media who you think would best serve as a manifestation of a Fear's power.

Rules for all polls

1. No real people.

2. No TMA characters, not even ones who serve Fears other than the one the bracket is for. We're going for a crossover here.

3. Feel free to submit as many characters as you’d like, but please do not submit the same one more than once.

4. Propaganda is allowed. However, please be sure to focus on the characters and NOT the source material, actors, authors, or fans. Propaganda violating this rule will not be posted.

FAQ

Q: "I think this character fits another entity better, can I submit them for that tournament when it comes up?"

A: If they went out in the first two rounds, they can be resubmitted. If they went out in round three, they can be resubmitted, but will likely take a penalty during consideration of the tournament's construction. Characters making it to the semifinal round or beyond will not be considered in future polls.

Q: "I think this character fits this entity's aesthetics, but I'm not sure how well they fit their meaning/I'm having trouble expressing why I think this character deserves to be in the tournament."

A: Check the relevant Entity's wiki page here and consider drawing parallels to events or avatars in the show itself.

Q: "Are submissions chosen based on how many times they were submitted?"

A: That's one factor. I also look at how well their description fits the actual entity and what I personally think would make for an interesting match-up.

Links to submission forms and masterposts

Eye - Results - Redemption Results

Lonely - Results - Redemption Results

Vast - Results - Redemption Results

Buried - Results - Redemption Results

Dark - Results - Redemption Results

Stranger - Results - Redemption Results

Doctor Who Stranger Poll - Results

Spiral - Results - Redemption Results

Slaughter - Results - Redemption Results

16th Competitor - Results

Hunt - Results - Redemption Results

Flesh - Results - Redemption Results

End - Results - Redemption Results

Extinction - Results - Redemption Results

Desolation - Results - Redemption Results

Corruption - Results - Redemption Results

Web - Results - Redemption Results

Fear-Adjacent Non-Avatars - Results - Redemption Results

Eye Take 2 - Results

Lonely Take 2 - Results

Vast Take 2 - Masterpost

WINNER'S BRACKET - Results - Redemption Results

Fast Food Flesh Poll - Masterpost

Finally, tags so folks can find this: @besttship @bisexual-monarch-tournament @asexual-swag-competition @clown-poll @theshipwars

[leclercsredhelmet]

Guilty as Sin ⚡︎ Max Verstappen

A/N: Hi! Back again with another one, this time it’s Max and guilty as sin! This is a little longer than the rest and it has a little crossover with the NFL, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Arguing, a little smut. Joe being a jerk (no hate to Joe, he’s one of my faves but I needed a not so good boyfriend for this blurb)

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

Sitting cross-legged on the outdoor couch with your computer on the table you looked out at the Miami skyline with a smile. You and your boyfriend Joe had rented an apartment for the next week, Formula One was in town and you were trying to score some last-minute tickets. F1 Experiences had sent you a promotion email, the prices looked good and there were still tickets left, the offer was tempting and you were considering splurging on it. Thankfully, your job allowed you to pay for expenses such as these. You were about to buy the tickets when you received a message on Instagram. Upon opening it, you gasped and jumped off the couch screaming for Joe.

Joe ran out onto the balcony, looking bewildered, “Joe, Joe, Joe, oh my god, oh my god!” You shouted while slapping his chest. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes. Unable to talk you showed him your screen, “Baby, this is huge! You better say yes!” he said hugging your waist. Grinning you typed a reply, “We’re going to the Miami Grand Prix!” You shouted and Joe whooped.

Panic set in and you started to pace around the living room, “I have nothing good to wear to a paddock club, this is going to be the end of me!” you exclaimed, “Baby, baby, hey, look at me” Joe said grabbing your shoulders to steady you. “We’re a short walk from the Brickell City Center let’s get changed and we’ll find something for you to wear,” he said. Smiling you kissed his cheek and ran out to get your laptop and into the bedroom, hastily grabbing some clothes and heading towards the bathroom.

Joe was laughing behind you and you heard him shuffle around the room. Things between you two had been rocky lately, he hadn’t had the best season with his calf injury and the wrist injury which forced him to sit out the remainder of the season. But things between you had shifted before all this, you had done your best to push the possibility that your relationship with Joe might be close to running its course. Dating him since the LSU days hadn’t been easy all the time, but you made it work throughout college, your internship in New York during his first-ever season in the NFL with the Bengals. Your careers had tested your relationship but you pulled through, and you were up to a few weeks ago convinced he was the man you wanted to marry. However, lately, this was not looking as clear as it had, Joe was distant with you most days.

Quality time between you was dwindling, you weren’t going out for dinner like you used to and had stopped doing many things together but you pushed the thoughts away for this week. Just one perfect week with Joe in Miami, and everything will be back on track. Your apartment was a short walk from the Brickell City Center mall so you made haste and got there in no time. A few hours later you walked out hand in hand with Joe who carried your bags full of outfits. You had insisted on paying for your own, but he refused and paid, which was why you had decided to buy him an outfit and some sunglasses you knew he had been on the hunt for.

With the bags on the bed, you started to plan your outfits and left them in the closet, Red Bull Racing had been in contact with you and your passes for the week would arrive tomorrow. They were nice enough to give you both access to media day and would send you a media pass with your journalist credentials. You figured you’d make the most out of the opportunity and take notes to report on the race week.

Excitement poured out of you and Joe took note of it, his stomach sank when he realized he hadn’t seen you like this in a while. Dawning on him, he started to see where he might’ve been faulty as of late and made a mental note to make this week the best and hopefully get back on track with you. Unbeknownst to Joe, he hadn’t stretched far back enough to realize he had been pulling away for months. You were sitting in the back of the car that was taking you both to the circuit.

Joe was scrolling on his phone and had barely paid attention to you, for most of the car ride, your driver followed the signs for the entrances assigned to the paddock club members and soon enough he had parked. “Joe we’re here!” you exclaimed and he snapped out of his daze to smile at you, he tipped the driver and informed him that he would call two hours in advance before leaving. With a smile, you thanked the driver and took Joe’s hand. “Hey Joey, do you think it would be weird if I ask Lewis for a picture with Red Bull passes on? You asked. “Don’t think so” he replied dryly. “Is everything okay?” you asked softly. “Yeah, why?” he asked. “Nothing, you were just a little dry, never mind,” you said quickly. Putting an arm around you, you walked and followed the signs for the paddock entrance and security greeted you.

There was a lane to get to the paddock so you walked through it and the entrance looked a thousand times bigger in your eyes due to your excitement. Scanning your passes you grinned as you stepped into the paddock. Joe reached for your hand and you walked past the photographers. A smile was plastered on your face and it got wider when you stepped into the football, More photographers called out to you upon seeing you two enter. The official f1 cameras were filming your entrance and you did a little wave, while Joe smiled.

The cameras left you alone and you spotted the Red Bull hospitality, you pointed it out to Joe and walked towards it. Some members of the team’s staff were outside and they greeted you, the social media admin who had contacted you, introduced herself and welcomed you inside. “Max and Checo should come by soon, help yourself to any drinks if you want,” she said. Smiling and thanking her, you turned to Joe. “I never thought I’d see the inside of the paddock, much less meet Max,” you said. “Cool, hey some of the guys are here,” he said not acknowledging what you had said. Getting slightly angry, you steeled yourself by counting backward from five. “Okay, can it wait until after?” you asked trying to hide as much of your annoyance as possible.

Was this man serious right now?

Figures approached you and you noticed it was Max and Checo, poking Joe his attention turned to the approaching drivers. “Hey, nice to see you guys!” Checo said. Joe extended his hand and shook Checo’s you did the same but greeted him in Spanish. Max was greeting Joe and he turned to you, “You must be y/n, it’s great you finally meet you. I’ve read your articles and they’re great!” Max said politely. “The pleasure is mine trust me, it’s great to know you liked them,” you replied politely. “Please you write the most competent pieces I’ve read, they should hire you in F1 already, you’d ask non-bullshit questions in the press conferences and interviews,” he said candidly and you laughed.

“She’s trying not to fangirl so hard but she goes insane on race weekends, she’s also raving about you,” Joe said and you blushed. “He’s exaggerating, don’t pay him much attention” you added and Joe laughed. Max smiled, “Seems like we’re all fans of each other,” he said to you both. You complimented Checo’s helmet and expressed your support while Max and Joe chatted and the admins took pictures of them. When you were done talking the admins wanted pictures with the four of you and you with Max while Joe took some with Checo.

Part of going out with Joe to sporting events included this, but you didn’t mind it as a sports journalist because this was pretty much what happened to you, when you attended events for work. “Some of the fins guys are here, I’m going to meet with them for a bit,” Joe said. “Okay, just don’t leave me alone all day please” you whispered. Without replying he left and you were alone with Max since Checo had media duties to fulfill.

Max had been done with his, and he decided to chat with you while showing you the paddock. Joe still wasn’t back and it was starting to bug you, “Do you have any projects lined up?” Max asked. “NFL-related not really, but I’m covering a little bit of hockey and the formulas,” you said with a smile. “Starting with us?” Max asked with a grin, “Yeah, and F1 academy, I have been writing a separate space on my blog for it and I’m excited to see the girls race!” You enthusiastically said. “I’ll get you a pass to the garages next door,” Max offered. “Oh that would be so great, thank you,” you said gratefully. “Do you need one for Joe?” he asked. “No, he seems to be busy at the moment” you replied in a serious tone.

“Ah I see, it’s a little rocky?” he asked. “You could say that, is it that noticeable?” you asked. “Not really, it is to me because I’ve been there before,” he replied before changing the topic which you were grateful for. Max had cracked a few jokes and your cheeks were red from the sun and from laughing, as he promised he would, a pass was handed to you and you thanked him. Slipping the purple lanyard on you exited the F1 paddock and made your way to the F1 garages, making sure your journalist credentials were visible.

The reigning world champion couldn't help but look at your retreating figure, desperately he’d wanted to ask for your number but the more rational side of him was holding him back. She is off-limits, even for me. He could tell your relationship seemed rocky but he would settle for just friends, of course, that all depended on you being open to it. But you were so beautiful, and it pissed him off that your boyfriend was nowhere near you. If I was him, I would be worshipping the ground you walked on.

Charles Leclerc approached him outside of the hospitality before doing the little drill the Miami Dolphins had prepared for them. Noticing his sudden halt in conversation he followed Max’s gaze to see it trained on you and smiled knowingly. “Ah, she’s Burrow’s girlfriend right?” he asked and Max nodded, his speech coming back to him slowly. “Y-yeah, they’re Red Bull’s guests” he replied and Charles smiled. “You like her,” he whispered. “She has a boyfriend,” Max replied quickly. “Yet you didn’t deny it,” he said before patting his shoulder and leaving.

Spotting Braxton you greeted him, smiling he beckoned you over and you greeted his teammates. “Tell me have you seen my boyfriend around? He left me stranded” you whispered. Braxton looked at you apologetically, “He was with us in the paddock club, I think he’s still there” he said. “Okay, thanks Braxton,” you said and didn’t move. Max went over to you and introduced you to the other drivers.

Heading back to the Red Bull hospitality you stood on the balcony and watched the drivers go through the drill, it was funny to see them a little out of their element. Joe had miraculously deigned to appear and he put his arm around you, you leaned into his touch and talked in hushed tones, still, you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Days had passed after the Grand Prix and you guys were at Joe’s beach house in California, things hadn’t changed and you were feeling like it was time to call it quits. To distract yourself you had gone out to surf and had just come back, sitting on the porch with your feet on the railing you closed your eyes and listened to the ocean breeze. Joe was calling out to you and hadn’t heard him until now. “What?” you called back walking into the house. “Did you go to the beach and didn’t tell me?” he asked irritated. “Joe I told you I was going out for a surf, you didn’t reply because you were busy doing god knows what and I left” you replied crossing your arms. “Well, do you want to go back?” he asked. “No Joe, I’m tired,” you said flatly. “Whatever, I’m going out for a run,” he said with a sigh and turned around. The door slamming shut made you jump and you noticed a package addressed to you. Grabbing it you went upstairs and tossed it on your bed, before showering.

Sitting down you opened it and noticed it was a RedBull PR package with a note addressed to you from Max. With a smile you read the note and opened the box, taking a picture of it you posted it on social media and tagged Max and the team, thanking them. Feeling tired you set the box aside and decided to take a nap. Waking up in cold sweat you let out a sigh and ran your hands through your hair. You were feeling guilty for your dream, why am I dreaming of someone else and not Joe?

Shaking your head you decided to splash cold water on your face, and once again the image flashed in your brain. Max’s eyes were raking your body at an agonizingly slow pace, his hands were firm as they held you by the waist before he leaned in to give you the most teasing of kisses that left you wanting more. This is bad, stop thinking about him. Why hadn’t Joe touched me like this in months? Am I a bad girlfriend for thinking this? There’s no such as bad thoughts, only your actions talk

Joe had come back from his run and you had decided you needed to talk, “We need to talk” you said sternly. “About what?” Joe asked, “Us,” you said swallowing the lump in your throat. “I need you to be fucking honest Joe, no bullshit. Do you not want to be with me anymore?” you asked. Joe looked at you surprised, “Baby, why are you asking this shit?” he asked. “Answer the question please,” you said as your voice cracked a little and you cursed yourself. “I- y-yes,” he replied but he was hesitant and that told you all you needed to know. “Tell me, when was the last time we felt like a couple and not to people drifting away?” you responded. “Last week, we went out,” he said not answering the question.

“That was the Miami Grand Prix, and you left me alone the entire week Joe! Do you know what that felt like? It felt fucking awful” you said fighting back a sob. “It was just a slip-up, baby. We’ll get back on track. I promise” he said while reaching for you and his gaze hardened a little, your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest. “Joe, have you even realized that we’ve been pulling apart for months?” “I don’t think it’s been months, you’re being dramatic!” he said raising his voice a little. Scoffing you turned around and headed up the stairs, blinking tears away. Joe was behind you and followed you into the bedroom, you were blindly throwing things in your suitcases. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. “Packing,” you replied dryly. “We can work this out, we can go to couples therapy, I can be better. Don’t fucking do this” he pleaded. “Joe I’m tired! I’m tired of feeling like a fly on the wall, you haven’t treated me like your girlfriend in months and I thought that you needed space after recovering and I gave you space but you just feel a million miles apart and I can’t do this!” You exclaimed as you looked at him with tears spilling out of your eyes. His eyes landed on the box, “Is it because of him?” he asked.

You scoffed, “No it’s because of you, I’m done Joe,” you said tossing the box in your last suitcase and zipping it up. Grabbing them you refused his help and went downstairs. “You know what sucks most, I thought you were the man I wanted to marry one day,” you said and his head dropped. “For what it’s worth, I had the best years of my life with you and I will always wish you well,” you said softly. “Please, I’ll retrace my steps, and make it up to you” he pleaded. “Retrace them but we’re done Joe,” you said as you looked at him one last time. “Can we at least be friends?” he begged. You shook your head, “It would hurt us too much, goodbye Joe” you said as you opened the door. You hadn’t called a cab but you took your luggage to the end of the sidewalk and called for one.

Hanging up you couldn’t help but break into a sob, when the cab got there you asked to go to the airport and booked a ticket to the first flight out to France. This was how you had ended up in Nice hours later. Joe hadn’t made an effort to call you and that made you feel worse. Your relationship had run its course and you wanted to forget everything and just erase years worth of memories and feelings. Little did you know that something as silly as an Instagram story of your hotel room views would catch Max’s attention.

Messaging Max you told him you were in Nice and he asked if you had any plans, to which you replied you didn’t. You considered him your friend and decided to accept his proposition to meet him in Monaco. Looking like less of a mess, you put one of your favorite dresses on and got ready, taking the train you met him out of the station. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing!” You exclaimed and faked a smile, he didn’t buy it. “You called it quits with Joe?” he asked. Not bothering to deny you nodded, “Come with me to the races, I’ll get you a pass. As your friend, I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said. “Max, I can’t,” you said. “Why?” he asked. “Because-” you said stopping in your tracks. “I have no place to stay, I packed all my life into suitcases what do I do with that? I can’t just jet-set and leave!” you said. “Stay with me then,” he said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Noticing your hesitation he turned to you, “Please, I have a spare room. No one lives with me, I can help you get your things and when you don’t feel like coming with me you can stay. Just until you sort everything out” he said. Giving in you nodded.

Determined to help lift your spirits Max took you out to eat and for a walk around the principality. Afterwards, he drove to Nice and helped get your things and settle into his apartment. Weeks had passed and you had taken Max up on the offer to attend races with him as his friend. Certain gossip accounts had gotten wind of your split with Joe and your presence in the races alongside the Dutchman.

People had started to speculate but you ignored them, your friendship with Max had evolved and feelings had been developing but you never acted on them. You liked Max, and you were certain that he felt the same way. Tonight was your last night in Singapore, your hotel room was dark and you couldn’t sleep. Reaching for your phone you looked at the clock, it was 2:25 am. Sighing you sat up and headed towards the bathroom to splash water on your face. Debating knocking on Max’s door you pondered the option for a few minutes. Hesitant steps carried you next door, knocking once the door immediately swung open, revealing a shirtless Max. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice showing no hint of sleep. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious, “I can’t sleep,” you said, “Me neither” he replied. Leading you in he closed the door behind him and locked it.

Taking a seat on his bed, you fiddled with the hem of your oversized shirt, Max looked at you before taking a seat next to you, and motioning you to move closer to him. Both of you sat facing each other. Oh how badly he wanted to admit you had been plaguing his dreams, he didn’t mind it but he just wished they were no longer dreams. Forcing the thoughts away he talked to you in a soft voice, minutes had passed and he couldn’t help but look at your lips. You noticed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck it,” his voice was hoarse and he reached out to you, kissing you as if his life depended on it. Your hands felt around in the darkness and found their way to his neck, you kissed him back and you pulled away breathless. His blue orbs were taking you in, a chill ran up your spine, this was starting to look like a familiar scene. Max initiated the second kiss and it was much rougher than the first, his hands were holding tightly onto your waist and you shifted to sit on his lap, you bit his lip and he groaned. Pulling apart his eyes slowly raked your body, his fingers slipped under your shirt and his touch sent shivers up your body.

“Max, Max” you said pulling apart and panting, he called out your name, and god, it felt so fucking right. “Don’t stop” you said in a low voice, he chuckled, “Only if you ask me to, Schat”. What if it feels like a vow, we’ll both uphold somehow? His kisses `never faltered, he was holding you ever so delicately, your back met his pillows, and your shirt was discarded on the floor. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes raked over you, his hands hadn’t left your waist, reaching up you pulled him by the neck and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Breaking away he started kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, you sighed and he smiled while leaving wet kisses down your chest. You could tell he was testing the waters and you simply wanted him to dive in, “M-Max” you said. “I’m taking my time Schatz,” he said and you mentally cursed him. Bringing him up you kissed him and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips when his hand found your thigh.

Max groaned, he had heard you once already and he was counting on hearing you again. Clothing was on the floor, his hand spread your legs apart and he looked at you, “Schatz” he breathed out. “Yes,” you replied, with a soft pant. That was all the reassurance he needed. It had been so long since you had felt like this and you welcomed every feeling, without holding back. Everything built up like waves and came crashing down. “What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh?”

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[actuallysaiyan]

||Love Like Blood|| Chapter One: The Butt Of The Joke

Chapter One: The Butt Of The Joke

Warnings: menstruations/menarche, bullying, mentions of death, grieving, major religious trauma, dark themes, crossover, reader character Pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader/Carrie White!Reader, mentions of past Emo!Nanami Kento x Haibara Yu and insinuations of possible Nanami Kento x Gojo Satoru Summary: You know you're different and that's never going to change. But what happens when you get your first period much too late in life? You're already old enough to be driving...to be doing all kinds of other things. The fear of dying hits you hard despite the fact that it's completely normal. Meanwhile, Nanami Kento lingers on his feelings and sadness that comes with grieving a lost loved one.

dividers by: @/benkeibear/@adornedwithlight

taglist: @tsukimefuku. @kentocalls @erebus-et-eigengrau @sparklynightm4re @seireiteihellbutterfly

@beneathstarryskies

Masterlist

You were different. You always would be different from everyone else. There wasn’t a single thought or single person who could even change your mind about that.

Every day you were reminded of just how different you were. The girls with their cute outfits, their perfectly coiffed hair and their penchant for fawning over the latest celebrity or star of the local football team.

And yet, here you were, yet to even have your menarche. All the other girls had gone through that so long ago. You didn’t even know much about that sort of thing. You had heard girls talking about it from time to time. Mentions and whispers of needing a tampon, or the many euphemisms that they used for this particular natural process in a woman’s life.

Shark week. Aunt flo. Riding the cotton wave.

You wanted to laugh along with them so badly. You wanted to complain about pimples and cramps and how the boys were so dumb. You longed to be one of the cool girls. So many times you looked over at them, wishing they’d just this once invite you to their table for lunch.

Maybe one day it would finally happen. You longed for the day that maybe Cait Hall would finally fix her attitude, wrap her arm around you and say it was all one big joke.

You knew it was impossible. There was no way it would happen that way. Mostly because you have been painfully aware that you were born to be the butt of everyone’s joke. That’s all you’d ever be. Nothing else could ever fix the situation.

The more you grew up, the more you sunk deeper into this role without even realizing it. You wanted it all to stop; you wished kids would just be kinder to you. But wishing and hoping and praying, it wouldn’t fix anything.

Despite you desperately wanting to break out of this shell that you’ve had to wrap around yourself for protection, you know that it won’t do you any good.

That morning, you felt nothing different. It was a morning just like any other. You made your way to school, keeping your head bowed down. You never met the spiteful and playful gazes of your peers as you made your way into the school.

You didn’t bother even looking at any of the girls as you got changed for PE. And you most certainly didn’t want to be noticed as you all played volleyball and you kept missing the ball.

You weren’t very athletically talented. Hand-eye coordination was never your strong suit. The ball would fly so close to you, and you cowered in fear often. It had hit you in the face one too many times. Your weak and feeble attempts angered your teammates. Most of which sighed in relief when the bell announcing the end of the first period rang.

In the shower room, you hid behind your locker before making your way into one of the cramped shower stalls. The smell of soap and fruity body wash fills the air. You try to hide your body from everyone else.

All the other girls have seemingly filled out nicely. You don’t understand why you have to be the only one to not blossom into a beautiful flower. You look like an ugly duckling and you are very aware of that fact.

Just then, a painful feeling in your lower abdomen. You ignore it, figuring it to be hunger pangs. You continue to soap up your body, thinking a million and one hateful thoughts about it. You wish you could just be swallowed up by the ground completely.

The water is cut off as you turn the dial and you reach for your towel. That’s when the first shriek is heard.

“Oh god! Per-iod!”

The voice is snarky and it hits you right in the heart. You don’t quite understand what’s going on but you know that you are indeed once again the butt of some stupid joke.

The catcalls, the shrieks and the mean words hit you so hard. It’s only when you look down and see the blood that you realize something is wrong. Something is very very wrong.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Nanami is holed up in his room once again. It’s his last year at Jujutsu Tech. He wonders what he’ll do after he graduates. He never even really expected himself to continue after the death of his best friend.

The people who surround him have been so kind to him. Even if Gojo gets on his nerves very often, Nanami is still grateful to have the man with him. They share a pain that not many understand.

Every day he wonders if he’s made the right choice by continuing. Nanami lingers on the last words that he spoke to Haibara. They were words of encouragement, of returning home together safely.

Nanami often hangs onto those last moments. The last moments of seeing his best friend alive. The pain of having to carry his body back to the school alone. The stinging feeling in his heart being ripped from his chest.

The way he nearly collapsed when he finally got back to the school. The conversation he had with Geto. That final time he saw Geto…

He tries to shake these thoughts from his mind but he’s having a hard time. It’s what keeps him going some days. It’s what makes it difficult to get out of bed on other days. The feeling of being alone without the best friend he never knew he could have was what would eat him up inside for years to come.

Gojo bursts through the door, a bag of snacks and treats in his hand. Nanami scowls as he sees his upperclassman. It’s not that it was unwanted completely, but Gojo has a very bad habit of walking into his room unannounced.

“Hiiii Kentoooooo!” Gojo booms. “Are you being all emo?”

Kento sighs, shaking his head. He really isn’t in any mood to talk to Gojo about this. Gojo would understand, but he’s too much in this happy-go-lucky mood to really take it seriously.

“Are you suuuure?” Gojo asks, sitting on Kento’s bed.

The older sorcerer opens his bags of goodies. He knows that Nanami isn’t feeling good. It’s the reason why he came to his room in the first place. While the rest of the students had been out in the field training, Nanami stayed in his room, brooding.

“Yes, Gojo. I am very certain.”

The tone is dry and strict. Gojo feels a tug at his heart. He hates seeing his underclassman like this. He cares so much for the young man.

Gojo hands him a sandwich he managed to find at the cafe near the school. It’s the very one that Nanami goes to whenever he gets the chance.

“Thank you,” Nanami mumbles as he unwraps the sandwich.

It’s quiet in the dorm room apart from the munching and chewing noises and the occasional banter from the older sorcerer. He’s energetic as he speaks, and while this usually annoys Nanami to no end, Nanami is finding it so comforting.

It’s much easier to deal with than the dead silence that rings through this empty dorm room. The same one that used to be filled with laughter and jokes from his brunette best friend.

Now it just seemed sad and lonely…

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

The sanitary napkins and tampons that they threw at you didn’t hurt. It was the notion behind it that stung like a bee’s sting. It was the way they laughed even though you knew something was wrong.

The blood filled both your hands as you grasped at your lower abdomen and reached further. It was dark, blossoming like a rose. In your mind’s eye, you could see yourself falling over and never getting back up.

The belief of hemorrhaging to death was too strong. You shrieked and cried, raising your bloodied hands to shield yourself from the onslaught of the bullies that taunted you your entire life.

“Look at her,” Cait hollered. “Look how pathetic and disgusting!” 

Skye Smith watches on with disgust written all over her face. She knows she shouldn’t keep throwing tampons at you, but she has no choice but to continue. It feels like it’s the apex of something bigger.

You back into a corner of one of the shower stalls and you sink to the ground. You hide your face behind your bloodied hands. The ache in your abdomen won’t stop and you feel helpless at this onslaught.

The blood begins to wash down the drain. But the flow from your own body seems to be endless. It’s like you’re bleeding out all the pain in your body. It’s so painful, the act itself. It’s like a million knives stabbing into your stomach.

“Look at her!” Cait cries out once more, pointing her perfectly manicured finger at you. “It’s almost as if she’s never had her period!”

This almost silences and stops all the young women in the shower room. Then the door opens and Miss Callahan walks in.

“Everyone, back up! Give her some room!”

The voice is authoritative. It’s the kind of voice that you know you need to listen to. And yet you aren’t comforted by it at all. You are convinced you will die in this dirty, filthy shower stall.

“Hey! Are you alright?”

You look up at your PE teacher. Despite her previous attempts at clearing the room with her strict voice and hands on her hips, she’s now kneeling at your side.

You shake your head, tears cascading down your cheeks. She takes pity on you, bringing you up to your feet. You’re shaking; cold, wet and tired.

“M-my…I’m gonna…” The words stick to the back of your throat.

Miss Callahan helps you sit on one of the benches. All the girls have cleared out now. Faster than she could even take names. But she knows who is to blame. She’ll punish them all if she truly has to.

“Now,” she brushes some wet hair out of your face and notices the blood smears that have settled there. “Tell me what happened.”

Your hands shake as you point to the blood going down the drain. You can’t even imagine how she deals with all of this so calmly. The words that come from your mouth are stuttered and you are clearly tongue tied.

Without shaming you, Miss Callahan tries her best to explain what happened. And despite your vague knowledge of a period, you know you shouldn’t be listening to this. It’s a sin. You have received the original sin.

Oh how you would be tainted.

The thought of being tainted by the original sin sends you in a frenzied panic. Miss Callahan watches as one of the lights above you both begins to crack. A terrified yell erupts from her as glass comes raining down upon both of you.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Some would say that was the day you changed. Others say it was the day that everyone was doomed. It was the start of something new.

And with the yellow dismissal slip in your hands, you walk down the road to your home. You tried to rationalize what happened in the locker room. 

There had been so much blood. So much pain. The torments had been relentless. You wondered if you had just dreamt it all. 

A cool breeze makes you shiver under your hand-me-down and sewn-together cardigan. The trees sway in that very breeze. The days were becoming cooler. The nights would get darker.

And you would remain the same.

The butt of every joke. The person they would trip. Your clothes would rip from being old and fixed time and time again, and they would all point and laugh. They loved being able to make you the joke because it distracted them from their own miserable lives.

You enter your home, shuddering at the way all the figures on every cross and in every painting seem to watch you with burning eyes. He’s all seeing, or so you were told. He’s supposed to be forgiving too.

Still, as you make your way up to your room and flop on the bed, you wonder if maybe he wasn’t real. Maybe none of this was real and you’d wake up tomorrow feeling a little more refreshed knowing that this never happened.

The minute you close your eyes and focus on nothing, that’s when you hear the slam of your own bedroom door. Your eyes shoot open, looking over at the door. 

Was that me? Or was that my imagination? 

You focus once more, but nothing else happens. The pain in your lower abdomen starts up again, causing you to curl up into the fetal position. And this is the same position you fall asleep in for a few short hours before your mother comes home and finds you home from school…

[solangeloficawards]

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[geeks-universe]

The Fallen pt. 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

A/N: Some light spice, no full on smut yet. This is in fact a Lucifer (TV) crossover. The beginning italics is a flashback.

Cooper Howard had perfected his aim in the many, many years of life spent in the hellish landscape that now inhabited Earth, so when he missed, it was purposeful.

“It ain’t good form, sneakin’ up on a restin’ man.”

His words were crisp, articulated, and honestly the intruder was just lucky he happened to be in a decent mood. It would’ve been easier to kill them.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

The replying voice was a stark contrast to the harshness of the life he lived. It didn’t belong, sounded far too gentle, and it aroused enough curiosity for him to tip his hat back.

Not a damn thing in the whole of the Wasteland could’ve prepared him for the sight he was met with.

Pretty, that was his first thought.

Too pretty.

Ungodly so, actually. Your eyes seemed to shine so bright in contrast to the dingy lantern that barely provided enough light to see his own hands. The slope of your nose, the cut of your cheeks, the shape of your lips- too pretty.

Not to mention the tight jumpsuit you wore, the zipper tugged down low enough on your chest to show off a healthy amount of cleavage. His fingers twitched as his eyes traced a path down your body- slow, appreciative. It’d been a damn long time since something as simple as a look could get him this worked up.

You had one visible weapon, a knife tucked into the belt of your jumpsuit, pressed into your very alluring thigh. He wondered briefly what it would feel like under his hand, wrapped tight around his waist.

“I suggest you get on your way ‘fore the next one ends up in your skull.”

It was a threat, one he emphasized with the click of his gun’s hammer.

You seemed unbothered, almost bored.

Fuck, didn’t that just annoy the piss out of him? You stumbled into his space- that he commandeered with his hard earned bullets, thank you very much- looking like fucking Aphrodite, with an expression that could, at best, be considered unconcerned.

Last he checked he was still pretty goddamn terrifying.

“Understood,” you held your hands up, and damn it all if he could ignore the pain in your gaze.

He hesitated.

It was a fraction of a fraction of a second, where he almost slipped back into Cooper Howard: the man who cared, imperceptible to most, but the small upturn of your lips told him you saw it.

He glared, holding his gun higher. You didn’t say another word, just held your hands up and walked away, but not before you met his gaze one more time.

He wished he knew what you were thinking when you muttered a soft, “thanks,” before you disappeared from the rickety building. The image haunted him for weeks, of you with your sad eyes, your face untouched by the ugliness of the world, breathing out your gratitude.

He swore he’d shoot you on sight if he ever saw you again, if only because that one encounter lingered in his mind for far too long after.

“Think they’re fuckin’?”

You startled, whipping your head up to face Cooper so quickly he was sure that it hurt. The heat that flushed your cheeks was unexpected.

“Sorry, just didn’t think you’d be so blunt.” You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair. “Maybe, they certainly seemed interested enough in one another to… engage.”

Coop barked a laugh, low and deep.

“Engage, huh?” You narrowed your eyes at him, resting your arms on your knees. “That’s a real innocent term for a bonafide tease like yourself.”

“Tease?” You echoed, almost offended.

The red from your cheeks burned a path down your neck, to the top of your breasts, where it disappeared beneath the fabric of your jumpsuit- a path Cooper was all too eager to trace with his eyes.

He hummed an affirmative, spreading his legs out in front of him. His back was leaned against the pole of an old billboard, giving him a nice resting spot from the traveling you’d been doing.

A few days ago, your little trio ran into the same knight Cooper had gotten into a shootout with back in Filly. He’d wanted to shoot the man and be done with it, but Lucy had argued that he could help.

After much deliberation, and more than a few pleads of your own, Cooper agreed to let him live. For now.

“A tumble in the ol’ hay gettin’ you nice and shy, huh?”

You groaned, forcing your eyes down to the sand beneath your legs. He waited eagerly for your explanation.

“My dad was, uh, strict,” you supplied lamely, embarrassment burning a pyre in your stomach.

You would surely never hear the end of this.

“Darlin’, are you suggesting you’re a-“

“No,” you were quick to respond, beating back against the shame that you felt.

You’d never understand how Lucifer could be so free in his decisions, not bothering to feel any guilt over the many decidedly “un-angel-like” behaviors he had. His time on Earth with you was short, beckoned back to his prison before you could even spend a decade together, but he’d not been idle in that time.

“I’ve… engaged before.”

Cooper’s lips drew into a slow smirk, the brim of his hat hiding the way his eyes were drinking in your expression. He’d memorized the way you look time and time again- when you were happy, or sad, angry, annoyed.

Embarrassed, however, was a new one.

“And now?”

The indignation that flared in your gaze rivaled the red of your cheeks, a thrill running down Coop’s spine as you pulled yourself to your feet and stalked towards him.

“And now,” you whispered, voice barely audible above the crunch of sand beneath your boot.

As you approached, he raised his head, drawn to your stare. The breath he released was strained with anticipation.

“I think you know what I want, Coop.”

It was graceful, the way you dropped yourself to your knees and straddled him. His cock twitched at the look you fixed him with, filled with far more desire than he could ever hope to understand. A fire was burning in the air between you, begging him to close the distance and feel you.

His fingers ghosted up the side of your thighs, hovering just above your ass. He’d hoped for this moment- dreamed of it, even- but never did he expect the universe would be kind enough to deliver you to him, ready and willing.

“And what is that, darlin’?” His tone dropped low, barely a murmur from his lips in fear of ruining the moment. “Don’t be afraid to use your words.”

Your mouth was so close to his, warm breath fanning over his face. He was torn between wanting to pull you into him, and letting you take your sweet time with him. The vaultie and the knight would probably be gone for a bit longer, in search of medicine to help with his shot arm.

“Mmm,” that sweet, lilting voice was so close he could feel it, inching closer to his body.

It was overwhelming, the sensation of your thighs over his, your front grinding so gently down the hardening curve of his cock. It was heaven and hell at the same time, too much and not nearly enough. A groan might’ve tore itself from his throat, it was hard to tell over the sound of his blood rushing south, heart pumping double time to match the throbbing of his cock.

Every bit of his restraint was focused on letting you initiate, his hands flexing in the air, waiting for positive indication that he could have his wicked way with you. He could practically taste the sweet nectar between your legs, drooling at the prospect. If you tasted half as good as you looked, he’d never wish for apple pie again.

You, his tormenting angel, with wide eyes and full lips that he couldn’t seem to stay away from. You, who he once believed was a figment of his own imagination, if only because he couldn’t fathom such a delicacy still existing in this world.

“The hat.”

Your words were released on a breathy sigh, hands tracing up the textured skin of his neck, before you quickly grabbed hold of his beloved hat, delicately placing it on your own head.

The triumph in your expression didn’t last, as Cooper had no intention of this being just another game. Faster than you thought possible, and with far more force than you were used to, Coop had hooked his arms around the back of your thighs, caging you against him so you couldn’t back away as you had planned.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playin’.”

You pressed further into him, tipping his hat back with a smirk. His hips pushed up, aching for contact that you purposefully held from him.

“If I’m taking a ride, might as well play the part.”

His retort was hot on his tongue, only to be immediately swallowed by your mouth. Your lips crashed into his, rough in their ministrations. Years of dreaming about the taste of you didn’t do it any justice.

Your tongue explored his mouth with a ravenous hunger, hips moving in time with each stroke of your lips.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was sure that all there was left to taste on the Earth was bitter and bland. You, however, were sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined. You tasted of vanilla, somehow, and the first crisp wind after a hot summer, and like the Earth before the war, the good things that had been destroyed and gone forever.

Holy hell, you tasted like life.

Like a deep laugh that came straight from the soul- he moaned when you tightened your grip on the fabric of his shirt, chasing every inch he’d give you- and the man Cooper Howard used to be.

His hands were eager in their exploration, mapping out a path from your thighs, to your ass, up the curve of your spine.

Fucking hell.

Every inch of you was divine, perfect in a way Cooper couldn’t even begin to understand. He wanted more. He needed more. Needed it more than he needed those damn drugs, more than he needed anything, really.

He went straight from the junction of your neck the second you broke from the kiss, mouth watering at the very thought of pressing his teeth to your sweet, soft skin.

“Cooper,” it was a whimper, a plea, and a moan all in one, and damn did his ears ring at the sound.

It went straight to his cock, making him press his hips up into yours, desperately trying to bury his length in you despite the many layers of clothing.

Your head fell back, exposing your neck even more to him, and causing his hat to tumble somewhere by his legs. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered outside of the feel of you.

His hands slid higher, on a path to your shoulders, only to stop at the sudden intake of air from you. It sounded pained, and he was dazed when you pulled away from him with a speed he’d not seen before.

One second you were hot, willing, and moaning his name, and the next you were standing over him, your eyes haunted.

“Darlin’, what-“

He saw it then, the sticky, warm red on his hands, unmistakably blood. A baser instinct wanted to lick his gloves clean of it, taste an even deeper part of you, but the human in him won out, if only for a moment.

“You didn’t think to let anyone know you’re hurtin’.”

The anger in his tone is only trumped by the worry in his eyes. Somehow, you’d wriggled your way into his nearly fucking nonexistent heart, and it seemed that you had the self-preservation of a damn baby sea turtle.

“It’s an old wound.”

The way you held your arms to your chest, almost like you were hugging yourself, told Cooper enough. It was a wound that cut deep, not because it hurt, but because of how it got there in the first place.

“Lemme see,” he said sternly, picking up his hat off the ground with a scowl.

“Today, sweetheart,” he muttered when you made no move to do so.

There was a vulnerability in your gaze, a cut so deep he knew you’d never fully heal from it. He wished he didn’t want to know, wished he didn’t care to learn what made those bright eyes dim.

You unzipped the front of your jumpsuit slowly, tantalizingly, almost like the teasing was a part of your armor- and maybe it was. Maybe it was how you convinced yourself you didn’t care as much, or how you rebelled against the father you obviously still struggled with.

You turned your back to him, baring the marred flesh without another look in his direction. Obviously, Cooper had seen many, many scars in his time. Hell, he was scarred from head to toe, flesh marked with the passage of time and the heat of radiation.

This was a little different.

You tensed as he reached a hand out. Two large gashes ran down the length of your shoulder blades, the flesh pink and raw. Scratches, deep and angry, cut between them, some bleeding and others healed. Curiously, the tips of his gloved fingers pressed to the two big scars.

In a flash you were turned around, your hands wrapped around his wrist.

“Don’t.”

A command. A plea. A whisper.

“Who did it?”

His words were hard, a rage so deep and endless rose in his chest, feeling more feral than he had his whole life. That wasn’t the scar of someone who survived an attempt on their life.

That was the scar of someone who intended to cause pain.

“Was it your daddy?”

From the very small amount of information you’d given him, he tried to piece together exactly what happened between the two of you. He didn’t know the specifics, but he did know that he’d hurt you in some unforgivable way.

Your silence was an answer in itself.

Leather creaked as he balled his hands into fists, grinding his teeth together. Cooper Howard was a monster, self-made and self-proclaimed, but he didn’t let anyone harm what was his.

And make no mistake, you were his. That kiss did just about everything to solidify it in his mind.

“If he weren’t dead already I’d hunt him down and string him up.”

It was a promise, and he wished he could bring that bastard back from the grave to punish him for putting those marks on your back and that look in your eye.

“Coop,” you approached him cautiously, returning your jumpsuit to its proper position. “He’s not dead.”

That certainly was a surprise.

And an opportunity.

“It’s more complicated than that,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. The clench on your jaw was noticeable.

“Let’s find the fucker, then.”

A long, tired sigh parted your lips. There were clearly parts of the story he was missing, and it seemed those parts painted a picture he didn’t understand.

“Let’s focus on Lucy and her dad.”

He let the silence simmer, wondering just how much he should tell you of his past. A bit of irritation flared at the idea of revealing anything. It was better to let the past die, like you said.

He grunted his agreement, not bothering to explain it to you. Maybe you’d try to stop him, or maybe you’d help him. It didn’t matter either way. You were already far closer to him than he wanted, he couldn’t risk any more of a bond forming.

“They’ll be back.”

His words were noncommittal. It was likely the vault dweller and her puppy-dog of a knight were probably alive, but he couldn’t really care less, especially when the girl's own naivety got them into this mess.

“Her heart was in the right place.”

You could see it on his face, read the expression etched in his battered skin like nobody else could.

“The right place for dyin’, maybe.” He clicked his tongue. “But I ain’t got that sorta wish right now.”

“They didn’t have to shoot,” you muttered, not nearly as worked up as you’d been earlier.

Anger isn’t an expression you wear often, so he was a little surprised when you’d been so upset with the fiends. Lucy had the bright idea of making it around them without violence, a plan that was doomed from the start.

Cooper voiced his opinion, and so did Maximus, but your encouraging little smile to Lucy made him follow with a scowl. The second they’d drawn their weapons, Coop had already shoved you behind him and dropped one of them. The knight wasn’t nearly as quick with the draw, and got a tooth bullet lodged in his arm for the effort.

He and Lucy had departed about a day ago, claiming they’d be back soon with a fully patched up knight. If it were just him, he would’ve tied them both up and dragged their asses to the head.

Better yet, just killed them both.

But you wouldn’t let him.

You’d always erred on the side of good, a little too soft for the world around you. He’d seen you mean, seen you stand your ground, but you helped far more than you’d hurt. The vault dweller seemed to only be intensifying it, making you believe in a pipe dream that was sure to get you a one way ticket to eternity.

“I’m going to check-“

“(Y/N)!”

Lucy’s voice cracked through the Wasteland like shattering glass. Whereas his annoyance at the sudden arrival of his unwanted companions reflected on his face, you managed a small smile.

“I was beginning to think you’d left us.”

It was a joke. Whatever bond had formed between you and Lucy had clearly earned you some amount of loyalty, and even if she would’ve ditched Cooper any chance she got, she definitely wouldn’t have left you. And if she refused to, it was no surprise Maximus also did.

“I take it you’re feeling better?” Your gaze fell where the bullet had struck, and there was a curious look in your eyes. You’d mentioned before that you used to be good with fixing people up, so he had a feeling you were reminiscing on another tidbit of life he wasn’t privy to.

“Ain’t no reason to gawk here like a bunch of sittin’ ducks,” Coop stalked passed the three of you, not interested in the camaraderie.

“Right,” Lucy cleared her throat, “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”

“Just ‘cause you took lover boy here for a little ride on company property ain’t mean the rest of the world changed.”

Your sudden intake of breath definitely didn’t go unnoticed. It seemed that despite the previous interruption, you were enjoying rubbing yourself up on Coop as much as he was.

“Sex,” Lucy clarified to Maximus at the man’s confused expression.

“Watch out,” Cooper warned the other man with a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Them Vauties are just breeding factories, might end up with a little unexpected squire.”

“Cooper,” you chided, catching up to walk beside him.

Sometimes, being bitter about children in general helped him cope with the loss of his own.

“It is our privilege to one day repopulate the Earth,” Lucy confirmed, shrugging. “Women just have the responsibility of choosing the right partner.”

“I’m not sure-“ Maximus tried to speak, only to be interrupted by Cooper.

“Unsurprising.”

“(Y/N)?”

It was a low blow, Lucy asking for your opinion, knowing that even if he didn’t say it in so many words, it was obvious the ghoul valued it far more than any others. You raised a brow, shrugging.

“I haven’t really thought of it.”

“Of having kids?” Lucy pushed.

This was quickly entering uncomfortable territory, and Lucy didn’t really know where the boundary was.

“Of any sort of future, honestly.”

She took your answer in stride, though. Allowing the topic to drop off into silence. It didn’t stay that way for very long, idle chatter amongst you, Maximus, and Lucy. Cooper would very rarely comment, but he preferred to stay focused on his surroundings.

Day bled to night, which bled to day again. Time was beginning to slip past as you neared the location of the head, frustration growing in Cooper. Any opportunity he had to speak with you in private was interrupted, the traveling party growing too large for his liking.

Perhaps, after this whole ordeal, it’ll be just you and him.

Perhaps he liked the sound of that a little too much.

[devilfic]

Prob, wayyyy too damn specific but I saw posts of Matt and I just rewatched The Batman (2022) and like I had this prompt of:

Reader is pushed away by Matt and decides to not fall with more vigilantes but runs in with Bruce and marries him? Maybe and it becomes some love triangle plot or idk

Idk what you could do with this, pls feel free to ignore it or modify. It’s just a weird ass crossovers of my two husbands.

at first I meant to humor you a bit with my thoughts on bruce and matt as very similar lovers but then it just turned into a throuple. walk with me:

it’s funny because matt and bruce have very similar self-destructive behaviors when it comes to relationships, but I think bruce is a bit more indulgent (whether he’d admit to that or not is another story entirely).

where matt is clearly insecure about if he can protect you—certainly he will fight until his last dying breath to do so but would rather you never be in danger to begin with—bruce is (and I'm especially thinking of an older, more experienced bruce), I think, unwilling to let you know that he’s just as insecure. mainly because failure cannot be an option. bruce also has much more at his disposal to protect you (cough cough money cough) and has backup plans for days. at this point in time, bruce would be more willing to let others in and have a healthier (?) way of maintaining relationships.

matt is, to the best of his ability, an ordinary man who strikes suddenly, sometimes recklessly, and thinks better within the throes of action. matt strikes me as someone who carries too many burdens to ever think a relationship with a civillian would work. he is a martyr like bruce, but I think where matt is in daredevil and where bruce is in my mind (years later, a little less cynical) are different enough to make them stand out.

that being said, I think matt would be hella suspicious of bruce because let’s be honest…. everything about him is a red flag LMAO. I can imagine matt playing mind games with bruce if they ever met, perhaps matt is representing a client who is suing wayne enterprises and oh, look, there’s you and bruce all cuddled up in the courtroom. matt listens for bruce’s heartbeat whenever he asks a particularly pointed question about his life but bruce has trained his heartbeat to be steady, his reactions natural. he gets one past matt.

and you think this man has some NERVE interrogating your new boyfriend when he’s the one who put you out. you almost let him have a piece of your mind but think better of it.

matt wonders if you like being bruce wayne’s. are you even able to still be you? the you that he truly knows?

needless to say, if they cross each other in cowls, matt will know it’s him instantly. I think it would sting matt to know that not only had you moved on to a man of much higher class, you’d also moved onto another nocturnal vigilante. one who, apparently, had no hangups about having you.

bruce also isn’t stupid. he’d done his research into the masked vigilante running around the neighboring borough of hell’s kitchen. it wasn’t apparent to him when he’d first met matt, but a little stalking research down the line and he’d put it together. they don’t reveal this to each other at first.

but later that night, bruce is holding you and wondering… is that your type? if it was by the simple hilarity of the universe that you ended up falling for him, right after leaving a man not too different from himself.

anon, I have a feeling that when you said love triangle, you really meant a love v as in bruce likes reader, matt likes reader, and reader likes both. but if I may talk my shit, I think these two might have a lot to like about each other. two vigilantes who operate by night and shadow, who have similar dedications to justice (matt’s being the idea of righteous and fair law, bruce’s being protecting the weak and innocent and rehabilitating or stopping the corrupt), two men leading double lives, two men as equally charming, and two men in love with you. bruce and matt find it hard not to see what you like in the other.

bruce befriends him. it’s kind of an accident the way he finds a kindred spirit in him, and at first it’s purely to keep an eye on this guy, perhaps to put together a contingency plan just in case. he starts sending nelson, murdock, and page cases in gotham that could use their legal advice, sending business partners and citizens alike to their door for referrals. matt isn’t sure what to do when they start getting a wave of new clients, all suspiciously right up their alley, but foggy and karen don’t mind the extra cash flow and matt struggles to find a way to not be okay with helping those in need.

matt returns the favor and starts training bruce on how to hone his other senses in combat. the two of them will spar for hours, only stopping if alfred were to come yank them apart or, god forbid, you come home early to find your boyfriend pinning your ex to the mat.

and you’re both horrified and fascinated to find that they get along really well. but you can’t just let matt back into your life after he’d all but slammed the door in your face. he’d given up on you. now he was weaseling his way back into your life with bruce—a happy life, might I add, although no less stressful—hanging around you like a dark shadow.

bruce isn’t sure how to feel about it either. he knows how much you loved matt, how much you still love matt, and he can tell matt is not over you no matter how much he waxes poetic about the greater good and why you two couldn’t really work out. bruce gets it, worries that maybe he should get it more and cut you loose too before something happens to you. it had always been their worry: that while they were off protecting the city, there’d be no one there to watch over you. and there was no one there to watch over you. once upon a time.

there is no organized discussion about it. bruce is less hung up about it than matt. it does feel odd, imagining him around you and it being… normal. inviting matt over for dinner with your permission, and sharing wine and heavy goodbyes as bruce pays a taxi to see him home safe. he considers the way you squirm at the table, trying to keep it friendly between you and matt but there is that ache in your chest that remembers this man differently. it feels disrespectful and rude to be friends with him now, having him around gotham. eventually bruce asks you as you wind down for the night, his rings clattering onto the dresser tray as you pull back the sheets, “you love him still.” well, he doesn’t ask.

you freeze, halfway into the sheets, unsure if you’d even heard him right, “I’m sorry?”

“matthew,” he casts a glance over his shoulder, “it didn’t really end between you. not on your end.”

“if you’re trying to accuse me of something-“

“I’m not. I can see it on you.” but bruce’s voice isn’t angry or mocking or blaming. it’s… oddly resolute. thoughtful, even. “I like him.”

“I… what are you saying, bruce?”

he crawls under the sheets, nonchalant, but he finds himself just a little (just a little) unsure. “I’m saying that… maybe the reason why he pushed you away isn’t a problem anymore,” he stares ahead, focused on the fireplace that burns low, “if you wanted him still. I wouldn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind him.”

you almost can’t believe your ears. “and you like him.”

bruce takes a minute to shrug, as if he needed to roll it around in his mind one more time.

“do you… want us to be together? all of us?” you watch the reflection of the fire in his eyes, waiting with bated breath.

he turns his head to you, “if we can get the usher boy to agree.”

you have to have a long, long talk with matt. there’s tears and a little anger and a whole lot of uncertainty as you talk out your tumultuous parting but then, as matt’s guilt starts slipping in and he says he’ll stay out of gotham so that he doesn’t cause you more pain, you blurt it out. matt isn’t sure he’s heard you right. you have to repeat yourself, a bit more eloquently, “I said… do you want to be with me and bruce?”

he doesn’t immediately say yes. in fact, he takes a day or two to himself to think about it. he’s staunchly sure in the beginning that he will turn you down but the words do not form, the hesitance keeps him from calling. when he gets advice from foggy (who is twice as bewildered but all too excited by the prospect) about how to say he’s not interested, he writes it down and it just. doesn’t feel right. he finds himself rearranging the words in his mind to be softer, more… flexible. less “hard and fast no” and more “I just don’t know”. the more he thinks about it the less inclined he is to even SAY the word no. is it because it’d really, finally cut you out of his life? would he only be saying yes to have you again?

bruce would be there too, that’s the key thing. maybe it could start out as just him being with you and bruce being with you at the same time, but maybe that was too weird for him to think about. sharing you with someone else. he wouldn’t want to. but what would the alternative be?

he calls bruce to meet in hell’s kitchen where he feels safer. bruce is calm, not imposing in the least. he lets matt rant it all out and get his feelings in check. when he’s blown off all the steam, bruce just says, “if it comes down to it, there’ll be no hard feelings if it ends.”

“this is crazy.”

“you can say no.”

“yeah. I know.”

some time passes. bruce comes to stand beside matt sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, keeping his heavy gaze fixed on him. “they still love you.”

“I know.”

the two of them say nothing for a while. matt tries to focus on the city, as loud as it always is, but keeps zeroing in on the steady earnest thumping of the man’s heart right next to him. he is being honest with what remains unsaid, what you’d told matt days ago that he still struggled to believe. he tilts his head so, and bruce has known him long enough now to know that he’s thinking hard about what to say next, “I suppose you’ll have to take me on a date first. just so we’re all even.”

“is pinning you to the mat not courting enough for you?”

[jokeringcutio]

"Almost Kidnapped" - BLACK PHONE & FNAF CROSSOVER - READER INSERT (GRABBER X READER (and implied your boss William Afton having an eye on you) [ 2/?]

AN: Enjoy your Sunday 🥳 As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it. Might follow up on this [ This is a nice job ].

Summary: You have a narrow escape. ( 'You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, and Albert Shaw (aka the infamous kidnapper known as The Grabber) regularly performs as a magician at parties').

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black Phone | Rating: Mature?  Warnings: Talk about arousal (but quite politely), Reader almost gets kidnapped. Older man/younger woman, Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Not betaread. [ Support x ]

"Five minutes, no more," Erica's voice cut through the cacophony of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place. “I’ll cover for you.”

Gratefully, you nodded, muscles uncoiling as you slipped out the back door, hoping your boss wouldn’t notice your short absence. But it had been such a hectic day. The pizza place was stuffy and crowded, with multiple parties held at once. And Freddy’s was short of staff, leaving you with Justin and Erica. Lucy was ill, Jax was abroad, and Mike and El were at a wedding. Thank goodness you had Erica by your side or you wouldn’t survive the day at all.

Especially with the way your boss, Mr. Afton, kept looking in your direction with that stern gaze. As if he saw something that disturbed him. You had checked your uniform several times, made sure there was nothing stuck between your teeth, and all of that. Whatever made him look at you that way, it was unnerving you and you needed a breather.

The second you stepped outside and the hot summer air brushed past your cheeks, you realized you were not alone. A black van was parked in the parking lot in front of you. Its owner was busy loading the van. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Today’s performer hadn’t left the premises yet, it seemed.

Not many people came around the back; only staff or suppliers. Well, both staff and supplier then, you thought amused.

You curiously watched as Albert Shaw tried to stack cardboard boxes inside the van. He was still dressed in his magician’s clothes. Black flared pants clung to his legs, a top hat perched atop a head with a face painted ghostly white. Red peeked from beneath his black shirt, a silent scream against the somber attire.

He looked pretty hot… for an old man.

Okay, you had to shake that thought away. You knew you and Mr. Shaw had some kind of flirty thing going on – although granted, it could just be mostly in your head. Something along the lines of wishful thinking and so on… But having such thoughts about him would only make things awkward. You needed to clear your mind before you approached him. Will those dirty thoughts away.

Which was pretty hard as you watched him bent forward and caught a good glimpse of the tight fabric stretching around his thighs and... You quickly glanced away and swallowed. Hard.

This was ridiculous. You were already incredibly itching down below, but who could blame you? You’d been focusing on little details like this the entire afternoon. You’d last seen him only half an hour ago or so, when he was giving his last show. He’d been performing all afternoon. The way he captivated the room and made children smile had something magical. Perhaps it was only fitting that he performed as a magician. But still… There was something about this man.

You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Your gaze traveled to see how he lifted one of the boxes. His unclad forearms tensed, his muscles and veins showed, and you bit your lip. Yep, definitely appealing. The man looked like he was a lot stronger than anyone would give him credit for. You wondered if he worked out.

But what was he stacking in there? You knew he had been the entertainer this afternoon, but Mr. Afton and Mr. Henry bought a lot of their party supplies from him too. Was he taking empty boxes back with him? They shouldn’t be heavy. So what was he doing?

You curiously peeked around the average-sized man, catching a glimpse of stacked boxes and brown paper bags now that the backdoors were open and the interior of the van was exposed. Then he shifted until he blocked your view.

Albert Shaw bent forward a little, clearly putting some of his magical equipment inside the van before he straightened his spine and turned around. When he saw you, he flashed you a smile.

“If I had known I had an audience I would have put on a better show,” he greeted you in that low and gravelly voice of his. Did he smoke, you wondered? You’d never seen him do it. But how else could he sound this animalistic, this raw?

The white makeup cracked as his smile broadened. Sunglasses hid his grey eyes, leaving you to guess the expression that lay within them. Your pulse quickened.

“I’m just here to catch some fresh air,” you truthfully replied. And did you just stammer? You didn’t, right?

“Getting a little heated, sweetheart?” he murmured, and by the gods… that did things to you. It was almost as if he knew how he affected you.

“Trying to escape the chaos for a moment,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, eyes tracing the contours of his frame, the sinewy strength of his arms. "Your performance earlier today was... mesmerizing."

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. "I try to please my… audience," the way he said that last word sounded sinful, as if he implied something erotic.

You bit your lip. "Well, you're very good at what you do," you said, stepping closer, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes.

"Need a hand unloading?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, an offer to linger in his presence, to be closer to him. Something about him was attracting you like a magnet.

"Already done," Shaw said, gesturing towards the back of his van. The doors stood open like dark wings, and you peered inside, drawn by curiosity. You saw the boxes he’d placed inside, the brown paper bags. The sight of several black helium balloons bobbing against the roof of the van caught your attention.

"Black ballons?" You asked curiously, a smile playing on your lips. He usually supplied colorful ones to Afton and Henry.

"Part of the act," Shaw replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smiled at him before looking inside once more, admiring the balloons when something metallic clattered to the ground from his grasp.

"Oops," he muttered, a clumsy interlude to his usual grace.

Instinctively, you bent to retrieve it, your fingers brushing the cool metal. It was a silver bracelet, engraved with arcane symbols. His bracelet, you recognized with a start. He always seemed to wear it, just like the rings on his fingers – which you hadn’t studied to see if he was married or not… of course not.

You were weighing the bracelet in your hand when something tickled your senses; a prickling warning that made the hairs on your neck stand.

In a swift motion, you turned back to him, thrusting the bracelet at him with both hands and surprising yourself when you noticed this simple gesture seemed to increase the space between you. It made him take a step back. You hadn’t felt him coming.

“Oh, I forgot,” you started, exclaiming it a little too happily to cover your fear.

Albert Shaw stood momentarily frozen, a canister in his grip, aimed at you. You could see the way his jaw twitched, as if you had caught him during something sinister. Your heart thudded against your ribs, each beat screaming for you to flee, to scream. But no. Surely, you must be mistaken. You’d play this the clever way, distract him, puzzle him. Surely you were misinterpreting things. He was just loading his van. The canister must have fallen out or something.

“Your card,” you said, scrambling your brain for words. You searched for his gaze behind the glasses, your breath steady, betraying none of the terror that surged through your veins. He was close enough that you could see the faintest quiver in his hands and smell the sharp tang of chemicals coming from the canister.

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Shaw," you said. You tilted your head, feigning innocence.

Albert Shaw's composure cracked, the corners of his lips started to tremble as he tried to maintain a small smile. The canister disappeared behind him, his arm hooked as he hid the item behind his back as casually as he could muster. But you had seen it, and you had felt the danger. The fact that he hid the item now only raised your suspicion even more. What had he wanted to do with that thing? Drug you?

"I seem to have lost your business card and I was wondering…” you bit your lip, faking shyness. You wanted to take a step back but didn’t dare to move. The air between you was thick with tension, as if one wrong move could mean the end – of what, you didn’t know. Surely you were just paranoid. Surely, the man hired to perform at kids parties wouldn’t try and hurt you.

But still… it felt off.

Putting your hands behind your back, you looked at him through your lashes as you murmured gently if he could perhaps give you another card. Yeah, that’s it. Fake ignorance. Flatter him. Flirt a little. What harm could it do?

It seemed to work as his breath hitched in his throat, his chest rising as his lips parted in a stuttered yet silent sigh. You thought you could see his nostrils flare as he tried to compose himself.

"Of course," he said, a low murmur that sounded bittersweet. He reached into his van, movements deliberate – but you still caught sight of how he placed the canister out of view, in a corner behind the door. Now you could no longer see it and attempt to read the label. You could only guess what it had been filled with.

He fumbled with his bracelet, putting it back on smoothly before he pulled out a card with his name and number on it. Then he offered it to you with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. Calloused fingertips brushed gently past yours as he pressed the card into your hands. A current of electricity snapping between you, dangerous and undeniable.

"Thanks, Mr. Shaw," you said, pocketing the card without looking, your eyes never leaving the abyss of his sunglasses. You deliberately mentioned his name, hoping it would disarm him and put any nefarious thoughts out of his head.

Well, depending on the nature of those nefarious thoughts.

He stood close to you. So close that you could feel the heat of his body, a wall of warmth as he leaned in close to point at the details on the card.

“In case you ever need me to liven up a party,” he murmured, voice dark and deep. His breath skimmed your ear as he murmured instructions on how to reach him, voice low and rough, like dragging stones across velvet. "Call anytime."

"Will do." You pocketed the lie along with the card, stepping back, distance a frail shield.

"I think more than five minutes have passed,” you said, hesitating. You tried to search his eyes through the glasses but they remained hidden from you. All you saw was Shaw’s crooked smile.

"I’m afraid it has,” he agreed, warmth bleeding through his tone, a contrast to the chill that had crawled into your bones when you’d been on your knees to retrieve his bracelet for him. A bracelet that seemed to be clasped quite securely around his forearm, you noticed. How had he lost it anyway?

"Got to head back," you said, stepping away and flashing a small smile to signal you were ending the conversation. Get out of here, your mind screamed. Don’t be silly, another voice inside your head whispered. Why would Mr. Shaw harm you? Everyone knew who he was. He was a well-known face around Freddy’s. “Break's over."

You turned to leave but then froze when you felt a hand upon the small of your back. He touched you. He actually touched you. A gentle but firm touch, and for a moment you thought you would die. That this was it. That he would drag you into his van and slam the door closed, taking you away from your job and the life you had once known.

But nothing like that happened. His touch was heavy but gentle. Not in a harmful way. Not in a way to pull you aside. It was a guiding touch, protective almost, leading you to the safety of the backdoor.

He walked with you. The sound of his footsteps on the gravel first and then on the pavement as you neared the threshold kept you distracted. Up this close, you could smell his heady scent, a mixture of cologne and sweat. You heard his breathing, low and ragged. You felt his touch searing through the fabric of your uniform.

His hand tightened against your spine, fingers pressing deep enough to claim. A silent message carved into your skin.

Your lips parted, astonished, confused.

Then he released you, as if surrendering something precious.

"Until next time.”

The words were a whispered promise, a low grumble heavy with implications and sentiment – but loud enough for you to hear.

“Bye, Mr. Shaw,” you said, hesitating. You didn’t want to give him a promise of meeting him again, although you were certain you would see him more often as he regularly performed here.

But what nonsense were you thinking?

You halted at the door, flashing him a final smile while you watched him take a step back into the sunlight and out of the shadow of the building. The paint on his face was a blinding white and you had to squint your eyes a little when you studied him.

He seemed harmless. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling you had when you picked up his bracelet and handed it back to him. The feeling that something really bad was going to happen.

You closed the door.

Had you averted danger? Or had your senses been wrong?

AN: Well? Have you averted danger? Let me know.

[uncpanda]

Found Out

AN: The Law and Order SVU and Batman crossover no one, absolutely no one asked for, but I still wrote. Cause I can ;)

Warnings: Mentions of serial killers. Nothing graphic.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

For being some of the smartest, most intelligent, detectives in the world, the superheros in your life are fairly oblivious. And on some level you’re really thankful for that. It allows you the freedom to do your job without their henpecking. 

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the people you work with, your second family, are some of the kindest, most intelligent, and hardworking detectives you’ve ever met, but they’re also oblivious to the fact that you’re married to a billionaire. 

You had never really meant to keep the worlds separate. It had started off innocent enough, you’d joined NYPD as a beat cop while Bruce was out studying to become the Bat. And when he got home you’d spent every spare minute helping him. Between that and the company he’d been too exhausted to ask anything other than a few questions about your job. He knew you worked for a large organization in NYC and that was it. He trusted you. And the boys were just as oblivious as their father. The only person who knew was Alfred. He’d been the once to come to your graduation from the academy while Bruce was still away. 

On the flip side, your SVU family knew very little about your home life. They knew you were married, they knew you had kids, but they didn’t know how many. After all, you’d only had the two pregnancies; Terry and Matt had both been big but welcome surprises. Then again ALL of your boys were surprises. And you had perfected your technique of avoiding the paparazzi for both SVU and Gotham High Society. 

Honestly, in your mind, there was no reason at all for your two worlds to meld. When you were at home, you took care of your family; when you were at work you tried really hard not to think of them, because despite crime fighting, you didn’t want them anywhere near these types of crimes. 

Of course, nothing lasts forever, but you figure twenty years is a good run, especially when Bruce is driving Dick away for his desire to be a cop. You watch them go back and forth for hours, before you finally step in. There are groans from the other boys about stopping the fight while Cass just grins, and you ignore all of them. 

“You’re going to stop this right now Bruce Wayne.” 

His eyes are hard, his jaw is set, “You don’t understand Y/N.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you watch Alfred roll his eyes in exasperation, “I understand better than anyone here.” 

His hands go to his hips, and you know he’s about to dig a very deep hole for himself, “Sweetheart, I love you, and I know you work the computers from time to time, but this is different. There are guns involved and he’d have to work inside the system.” 

“So?” 

“You can’t do both; there’s too much to hide.” 

You smile sweetly at him, “I don’t know, I’ve been doing both for the past twenty years. Then again, I suppose it might be different for me since I just worked the computers for a while.” 

He blinks at you, and you know he’s connecting the dots. You ignore him, and turn to your oldest, his eyes wide, “While I understand you wanting to do Bludhaven, if you want to do NYPD, we can drive into the city together. Let me know, I have more than a few favors I can call in.” 

Tim is the first to voice the statement, “You’re a cop?” 

You shrug, “First grade detective, but I’m taking the sergeants exam in a few weeks.” 

Jason stares at you, “Seriously? Are you joking right now?” 

“I joined when I was twenty. I’d finished college early thanks to AP classes, went in as a beat cop, and after five years I became a detective. I’ve been working at SVU for the past fifteen years. They’re like my family away from home.”  

You can tell there are more questions, but no one seems brave enough to ask them. You start to head out of the room, when Bruce asks, “Why did you hide it?” 

You pause and turn to him, “I didn’t. You just never asked.” 

As you leave you hear Alfred ask, “Would you like a shovel for the hole you’re digging sir, or should I just make up the couch for you?” 

You go  wait in your room, and lie down on the bed. A few minutes later Bruce comes in, and you look at each other. His brow is furrowed, eventually he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me? How could I not have known?” 

You smile at him, “I didn’t want you to know Bruce. I was on my own path, and I knew you would worry. At the start I told myself I would tell you eventually, but. . . you were so involved with Batman and you were doing so much good . . . I didn’t want to add to your stress. You were barely sleeping three hours a night at that point. 

“Then we Dick, and I considered telling you but he needed us to focus on him, and after a while it became easier to excuse it. It became my secret identity. Are you mad?” 

He lets out a laugh, “I dress up as a bat, and fight crime as a vigilante. I don’t think I can be mad. I think I’m worried.”

“About?” 

“Us drifting apart, not knowing you?” 

You shrug, “I’m me Bruce. I just also happen to be a cop. I see a lot of bad stuff, everyday. The last thing I want when I come home is to talk about it. Same as you guys. When I’m home I want to be happy, but if you want to know I’ll tell you on one condition.” 

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, after a moment he asks, “What’s the condition?” 

“You can’t involve Batman. NYPD is not Gotham PD.” 

He nods after a minute. The two of you spend the night talking, you tell him about some close calls, you tell him about the one life you’d been forced to take, you tell him about your frustration. You tell him about Liv and Elliot, and how Elliot leaving crushed Liv, but she rose from the ashes to become a lieutenant. You tell him about Munch and Cragen, both of whom have retired. You tell him about Finn, Rollins, Amaro, Carisi, Dodds and Barba. It’s nearly six in the morning by the time you’re finished. 

“And that’s the majority of it.” 

You’re both lying on the bed staring at each other. Bruce has been largely silent, he’d skipped patrol, and only asked a few questions. A part of you wonders when his anger will hit; it doesn’t. Instead he says, “I am so freaking proud of you,” and then he kisses you. And you can’t help but think, that in a normal marriage, a normal family, this would have been a big deal, it would have broken them. In your family though? It’s another day. 

You call out of work that day to catch up on sleep and spend the day with your family. The boys come up with a bunch of reasons as to why they should have realized you were a cop. 

“You work really weird hours.” 

“You never wore heels to work.” 

“You never wore dresses either, come to think of it?” 

“Is this why we own a penthouse in NYC?” 

Jason is the one who asks, “Where do you keep your gun? I thought those weren’t allowed in the house?”

“You don’t need to worry about it. It’s locked up.” Logically, you know each of your boys knows how to use a gun, mainly for the purpose of knowing how to disarm someone holding a gun. You still don’t want them anywhere near it. For that reason, it’s kept in a DNA safe in Alfred’s room. 

When you go back to work the next day, you have your gun and badge on your hip. All of the men in your life focus on it. Bruce corners you in the kitchen as you’re pouring coffee into a travel mug and whispers, “You look sexy as hell with the badge.” 

You laugh, and then you kiss him. You’re the one who drops Cass, Tim, Damian, Terry, and Matt off at school. Jason is in college, and he drives himself. Dick is still contemplating his options. 

The fact that your family knows makes things a lot easier a few weeks later when Carl Rudnick and Greggory Yates escape from prison. You can hear the worry in Bruce’s voice, when he begs you to be safe and not do anything risky. You snort at that and he chuckles, “I know, I’m a hypocrite, but I’m your hypocrite.” You roll your eyes, because the big doofus, is in fact, yours. You also know he’s keeping a close watch on the man hunt. 

Three days later Rudnick is back in custody, but Yates is still on the run, back to Chicago you’re pretty sure. You’ve gotten maybe five hours of sleep total in those days? You’re exhausted, but you have reports to fill out, and Chief Dodds, the commissioner and a whole bunch of brass are hanging around. 

You’re in hour three of doing paperwork, when you hear whispers. Your eyes flicker up to find your husband smiling at  you from across the room. He’s holding a doggy bag full of food, he’s dressed in a suit that costs thousands of dollars, and you know that people recognize him. 

Finn leans forward, “What the hell is Bruce Wayne doing here?” 

You hear Carisi whisper, “Maybe he’s dating Leiu?” 

You can’t help it, you burst out laughing, because you sometimes forget it’s not common knowledge that Bruce is married, despite the ring on his finger. You avoid galas with the best of them after all. You call it the Batman tax; Bruce can fight crime and you don’t have to show up to stuffy dinner parties.  

Bruce smiles at the laughter, before approaching your desk, he settles into the chair next to your desk. “Really? No pictures of me or the kids?” 

You scoff, “Work stays at work, home stays at home.” 

He frowns, “I’m getting you pictures.” 

You don’t argue with him, “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought you food. Alfred and I figured you hadn’t eaten.” 

“I haven’t had anything outside of vending machine junk in days.” 

He scoffs, “What happened to taking care of ourselves?” 

You shrug, “I’ve been hunting serial killers.” 

His face goes serious, “But you’re okay?” 

“As okay as I can be. They got a few more people, our sergeant took a bullet to the shoulder, Rudnick is back in prison, but Yates is headed only God knows where.” 

His fingers twitch, and you know he’s itching to do something, but he can’t. He can’t get involved in this too. He has all of Gotham to worry about and thanks to the league, sometimes he has to worry about the world. 

He lets out a breath, “Can I join you while you eat?” 

“Yes. You can catch me up on the goings at home.” You lead him past your shocked colleagues, and a room full of shocked officials in Liv’s office and to the breakroom. While you eat, Bruce assures you that the boys are fine, but Damian apparently butchered the hedges again. Clark was apparently being a pain in his ass too. The man of steel wanted your family to come to Kansas for Thanksgiving. 

“I’ll probably have to work, use that as an excuse.” 

Bruce grins, “This job has perks.” 

You lean forward and peck his lips, “Lots of them.” 

When you’re finished you stand up to leave and there is a room watching the two of you. You sigh, and Bruce mutters, “It’s good to know the vultures remain consistent.” 

Chief Dodds is about to step forward and ask a question when you step towards Olivia, “Bruce this Liv. She’s saved my ass more than once over the years. Liv, this is my husband Bruce, remember I talked about him?” 

She grins, “Yes, but you failed to mention he was Bruce Wayne.” 

You feign nonchalance, “Did I? Hmmm.” 

Bruce smiles, it’s the one that has everyone jumping to meet his every need, the one that says he’s as innocent as a choir boy, and he would be your best friend if you let him. You smirk at him while he shakes Liv’s hand, “Thanks for watching her back. The boys and I appreciate it.” 

That’s when Finn steps forward, “That right, you guys have a huge family, right?” 

Bruce’s brow furrows in fake concentration, “We have Dick who is twenty, Jason is eighteen, Cass is Fifteen, Tim is fourteen, Damian is ten, Terry is six, and Matt is four.” He looks at you, “How’d I do?” 

“Perfect score.” 

“We have a full house, but it’s nice.” 

You nod, “Let me walk you out.” 

You make sure Bruce gets to his car, you kiss him, and promise you’ll be home by morning. Once he’s gone you head back up to find everyone waiting on you, it’s Finn who declares, “You have some explaining to do.” 

You sigh, life was easier when no one knew anything. 

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Suggestive themes, violence and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Fires of Rebellion

“So, talk,” you demanded, crossing your arms as you kept yourself at a suitable distance from Leon. 

Both of you were currently walking up north along Good Street towards the City College. The plan had been to take a left at some point and head over to the park by Warren Street, where hopefully there would be some benches for you to relax on. It was still early enough in the night for your surroundings to be relatively bustling with people, so you weren’t too worried that the man beside you would try anything risky or stupid. In any case, you knew where you kept your pepper spray at hand if things went south.

“You’d already sensed it from the beginning,” he stated, swallowing thickly. How was it this hard to tell you who he really was? If he could sweat blood, he’d fill a whole bucket’s worth. Pig’s blood. A cop in pig’s blood. He knew plenty of people who’d pay to see him drenched in the vermillion fluid. “That I’m not exactly normal.” That was what he settled with.

“What, you mean like a serial killer or something?” you scoffed, shaking your head in mild vexation.

“No.” His voice was solemn but firm as he glanced at you briefly, making eye contact. “I didn’t… assault you, not in the way you think.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I just— I do things… that aren’t exactly normal.”

Great, Leon. You just made yourself sound like a fucking magician. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and paused his footsteps. “This is going well.”

You almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to be having such a difficult time articulating what he wanted to say. Was it some sort of kink he was talking about? The logical part of your mind berated you, insisting that this could go down far worse than you imagined, but you pushed it aside.

“Like what?” you asked, your morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

His jaw tightened as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from side to side.

Before he could respond, you took the initiative, positioning yourself in front of him as a form of challenge. “Show me,” you requested.

His head darted in every direction, scanning the area with an animalistic instinctiveness and you thought you saw his eyes illuminate in a different color. However, when you blinked a second later, it had returned to its original pale shade of blue. “Too many people,” he muttered. “I’ll do as you ask, but we need to head somewhere quieter.”

You should’ve ran off after he said that, but your legs stayed rooted to the ground. Your lack of self-preservation was alarming. “The park, then?” you suggested.

He nodded in compromise. “I could work with that.”

The rest of the walk there took place in awkward silence, as you dwelled on what he would do and whether you were walking into one big, fat trap. Well, at least Patrick had his business card. And P.I.s, they had a registered license, didn’t they? It was too late to back out now, you’d gone this far and you wanted to see it through.

When you had found a secluded bench at one of the shaded corners of the park, he spoke up again. “Do you remember the first night we met? When—”

“You offered me cigarettes in exchange for coffee,” you finished the sentence for him.

“Yes,” he said with a wistful smile, as if reminiscing about a day he’d cherished but had long since passed. “You felt it, didn’t you? Compelled to stay, but with no reason why.”

Despite your reluctance, you had to agree with him. That moment between standing by his table and sitting with him to share in a smoke had been like entering the twilight zone. You were you, but yet, at the same time, weren’t.

“I can do it again here, if you want,” he murmured, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to bore right into you.

It wasn’t the first time you had leaped before looking. You’d always been known to be a little more reckless than your peers, but it seemed like you never really learnt your lesson well. “Be my guest,” you gestured melodramatically, as your hand swept across in one grand motion.

“Now, you’re just mocking me,” he chided, though a ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips.

This time, there was a tingling sensation in your body, like an invisible warm light gradually enveloping you, except it seemed to exude from him. You were entranced by his stature, the minute details of his face, everything about what he was, to the point where you couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze.

“Sit,” he directed gently, placing his hand along the back of the wooden bench.

You felt nothing but desire. Desire to do anything he wanted you to. Without a word, you sank onto the bench like a doll, still giving him that doe-eyed expression one would normally reserve for a celebrity they were starstruck by.

Taking his seat beside you, he urged, “Come closer.”

Obediently, you shuffled up along the bench towards him, except it wasn’t out of fear of punishment, but a strange, radiant love that emanated from within you. When you were just inches away from his face, he slowly revealed the tips of his canine teeth, which were pointier than usual, and seemed to grow with each passing minute. As his features eased up, you could feel the uncanny warmth dissipate from your core, and though you were still captivated by him, his face seemed to lack the same lustrous sheen it held moments ago. Like a wandering spirit, you had arrived back into your own body. You were you again.

His eyes latched onto you, waiting, watching, biding his time, to see what you would do. Though he remained poised and composed, the unsteadiness of his breathing and the flicker of trepidation across his irises gave him away. He was afraid that you would leave him, for good. And after what he had given to have the right to Embrace you, he wouldn’t know how he would live with himself if he were rejected.

It felt like hours had gone by until one of you spoke up. “Do you hate what you see?”

“No,” you answered, almost too quickly, cupping his cold cheek in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully into it, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It felt moist and heated against your skin.

You surprised yourself with how well you were taking all of this in. This shouldn’t have been possible and nothing about what he had shown you made sense. You blamed your tolerance on the late, sleepless nights and hanging around with the offbeat characters who frequented your cafe. 

What if monsters did exist? you humored. Maybe not in the literal sense of vampires, but someone who relished the flavor of blood, and who’d learnt a few tricks of hypnotism. You tried to rationalize it as much as you could, but there were still so many missing pieces you did not fully understand.

“How many times?” you asked. “Did you force me… each night?”

He lowered his gaze, marred by shame, while looking to his hands nestled in his lap. “It was just that once,” he whispered. “I wanted you to stay with me.” 

He pursed his lips. “The rest, later on… was you.”

“Did you—”

“Yes.” 

You didn’t even need to continue your sentence for him to know what you meant. Yes, he tasted your blood. Yes, he enjoyed it. Yes, he came back for more. And more.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.

You didn’t acknowledge his apology, allowing even more time to slip through your fingers. A while later, you ran them along his cheek towards his lips, where his teeth which now looked more like fangs lurked. Right, how would you explain that away?

He didn’t stop you when you traced one of their edges, as if trying to figure out if they were real. He let you press the tip of your finger against its peak, purposely pricking yourself in some kind of deluded masochistic fantasy. The rush you felt from it was indescribable, like a spike of venom flowing into your veins, though it wasn’t as intense as the previous times to truly immobilize you. Grasping onto the back of the bench, you steadied yourself from the dizzying sensation.

A dark, ruby bead blossomed at the site of the puncture. His mouth lay open as he inhaled sharply, gripping the trousers on his thighs, and there was a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. However, he remained motionless, restraining himself somehow, as if awaiting your instruction.

“You like this?” A mixture of bewilderment and arousal seeped into your tone, as you brought your bleeding finger to rest just at the entrance of his mouth.

All at once, his veneer of calmness shattered. He swirled his tongue against your fingertip, causing you to gasp as it made hot laps around the miniscule droplet of blood you had to offer him. Dipping his head, he took the rest of your digit into his mouth, eventually sucking on it whole as he emitted a low groan in pleasure. When he finally let it go, a slick string of saliva connected to it from his lips, wet and hungry with need.

“I, um—” you shuddered, at a loss for words, as you retracted your finger, folding it into your hand.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened up in his seat, adjusting his attire and hair, as if he had come back to his senses once again. “You don’t have to decide on this right now,” he assured you.

“Okay.” You nodded shakily, your mind spinning from all the events that had just transpired. “Could we take another short walk before I head home?” 

It would probably help to cool off a little, you thought.

“Anything you need,” he asserted, getting up as he took another glance around the park, before extending his hand to you.

You stared at it, contemplating further. “Just don’t—” you hesitated, pausing to rephrase your words. “I want to trust you, Leon.”

“I’ll earn it back,” he promised. “However long it takes.”

That was all you needed to hear from him. Perhaps you were naive to a fault, but you took his hand anyway, allowing him to lead you out of the park, and to whatever else fate had in store for you that night.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the course of the evening, a thin fog had developed, shrouding the sky and enveloping the moon and stars in a blurry veil, casting a muted light over the city. You and Leon had taken a short detour towards the more touristy part of town, where the landmark Saint Michael Clock Tower overlooked the grand waterway.

The ornate, Gothic structure loomed intimidatingly ahead, its roof cloaked in a wispy gray mist, though you could still make out the time on its huge clock face. Ten minutes past midnight. It was getting late, and although you were accustomed to working until the wee hours of the morning, you preferred to get some sleep on your nights off when possible. However, right now, a part of you wished that the night would last longer. 

There wasn’t such a wide distance between you and Leon as before. In fact, your fingers were nearly touching, but neither of you had taken it further to close the final gap. Even in complete silence, punctuated only by the sounds of the city’s buzzing nightlife, both of you had somehow agreed on which pathways to take, falling in sync with each other’s footsteps, pauses and turns, like an unspoken dance. It was nice like this, having no expectations of the other person, just walking and feeling the thread of connection that bound the two of you.

Every now and then, he peered at you inquisitively, and you wondered if he had something to say, but when you looked his way, he turned his gaze back to the street in front of him. Coming to the entrance of a tunnel arbor near the clocktower, you paused to admire the sight of the vines and flowers that were wound around the metallic arches, interspersed with marigold fairy lights. There were still a decent number of stragglers in the vicinity. Probably the remaining tourists for the day who didn’t quite want to wrap up yet, some of whom were posing for pictures near the picaresque arbors.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Always the instigator and taking the confrontational approach. That was what you were known for.

“Hm?” he deflected, yet smiled at you knowingly.

“Just looked like you had something to say.” You shrugged, placing your hands on your hips.

“Nothing escapes you, huh?”

He was teasing you again; you were certain of it. Though this appeared to be twofold, where the second part was meant as a misdirection to hide a secret from you. 

“It should be obvious that I like you,” he stated plainly.

Obvious to the point where he couldn’t afford to have one of those obnoxious Anarchs stake their claim over you, just for a bit of territory. You were worth so much more to him than that. Surely, it would be the lesser of two evils for him to be the one to Embrace you? It was all he could think about when he made that deal with Ada. Always justifying and compromising. That was what he was known for.

You couldn't fathom the sheer astonishment and joy that overcame him when Ada returned with the news a few weeks later:

“The Prince granted your wish,” she mentioned with an indifferent wave of her hand.

“How?” he choked in disbelief. “It usually takes years!”

“You underestimate me,” she scoffed. “Have you forgotten that I’m the voice of society?”

“No, of course not.” He hung his head in disgrace, as if he had just been told off by a parent.

“Anyway, I don’t have to tell you twice that you should thank him in person.” 

Lifting a bejeweled chalice to her lips, she tasted its contents, allowing it to linger on the palate before letting it wash down her throat. “And by ‘thank’, I mean ‘grovel’.”

“Yes, sire.” He bent down on his knee and kissed the back of her hand in respect.

A shadow of annoyance flickered across her face, morphing into a frown. “You do know this makes you look weak?” she questioned rhetorically. “Being unable to convince the Prince yourself?”

He knew better than to respond when Ada was in such a mood.

“Don’t embarrass me.” 

Her warning rang loud and clear in his ears.

“Who is it obvious to?” you challenged, pulling him out of his reverie. Maybe you had an undeniable urge to see him lose control over you again.

At this, he drew closer towards you, his eyes ablaze like a blue flame, as he snaked his arms around your waist. That was it — the thrill, the feeling you missed. It rippled through your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. But before he could go any further, a sudden force tore him from his hold on you, hauling him violently backwards. He was flung in the air across a couple of yards, landing against the wall of a building with a sickening crack.

In the background, you heard screams coming from all directions, alongside whooshing sounds, followed by loud thuds. One soon popped up behind you and in an instant you found yourself smacked to the ground. There was a shrill ringing in your ears, your eyes watered, and your vision blurred as you started seeing double in front of you. You felt the back of your head. Wet. Sticky. Flowing. Your fingers were red and the concussion you suffered induced a dizzying spell.

A grizzly face appeared before you, but you couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features, except for the familiar shape of long fangs that glistened under the arbor lights. There was no time to put up a fight or even cry out for help, as you began to sink deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

Leon had watched the entire scene unfurl before him like a twisted snuff film coming to life. The attack had taken him by surprise, but he quickly got up from his fall, resetting his bones and shaking it off like nothing had happened. The whole place was awash in scarlet. Blood streaked the city streets, trickling into every gap and crack, as the victims were messily drained of their lifesource. Whoever was behind this wanted the world to know. And that was when he witnessed the first of them turn.

A Mass Embrace? These Kindred definitely reeked of the Sabbat, and if not, they weren’t anyone who had been presented before the Prince; he would know. There wasn’t a second left to spare — he had to find you immediately. In his line of sight, he saw one of the culprits feeding on you greedily, and the primal rage he felt within him almost caused his Beast to take over. He hunched over and growled ferociously. His features transformed into something monstrous and his eyes were crazed as globs of saliva dribbled down his mouth.

It was fanning the flames of a Frenzy, one where he would slaughter every being in his path regardless of who they were, tearing them from limb to limb, and eviscerating their carcasses for what they had done to you. But his concern for your well-being won him over. Mustering up his willpower, he resisted the Beast as much as he could, and though he was still enraged, he needed to think straight and prioritize getting you to safety. That was all that mattered.

In the bat of an eye, he zipped across, yanking the other vampire away from your limp body, as they traded rapid blows. Another aggressor joined in the fight, as Leon dodged their swift counterattacks with deceptive ease, before connecting his right fist to one of their jaws and dealing a precise uppercut with his left to the other’s ribs, catching both of them off-guard. 

Everything seemed to pass by in quicktime as he moved with an unnatural grace, spinning mid-air over one of their backs, only to grab the other from behind and slam him to the ground savagely. Gathering the rest of his strength, he took advantage of the momentum to stomp on the vampire’s head with the heel of his shoe. There was a nauseating crunch as his skull caved in from the blunt force trauma, splintering and sending blood splashing across the pavement, driving him straight into torpor. One down, one more to go.

The brutality of the violence he had displayed unnerved him, yet fuelled his excitement as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He attributed it to being partially influenced by the Beast the moment those bastards had put your life in danger. At least he had not fully succumbed to it. That was what he tried to tell himself while putting a lid on his unquenchable thirst for more. More violence. More bloodshed. They deserve it…

A cacophony of ghastly howls erupted from a distance, bringing him back to reality. Jill, it had to be, Leon realized. The Sheriff was coming to subdue this severe breach of the Masquerade. As the other vampire lunged at him, Leon’s reflexes took over, timing it such that he skirted the edge of the assault unscathed. Instead, he circled around, placing the attacker in an unyielding headlock. The vampire struggled vigorously, attempting to kick and claw his way out of Leon’s grip.

It was then that he heard Jill’s gruff yells in the vicinity, as the pack of dogs under her control barked and gnashed their teeth viciously at the remaining offenders, clamping down on their legs to prevent them from escaping. The Hound, a group of Kindred who reported to her, had arrived in tow, twirling wooden shafts in their hands, each sharpened at one end. Grinning menacingly, they struck at the assailants, staking them immobile before dragging them away.

“You need this one?” Leon called out. He might as well play by their rules where he got the chance, even if the Prince himself had decreed a perpetual Blood Hunt on the Sabbat. Anything to be in the former’s good graces. It was all for show, anyway.

Jill turned sharply, her mouth contorting into a wicked smirk, as she stalked towards him. “Leon… always at the right place, right time, huh?” Her voice was more akin to brutish snarl, but he knew when she meant her threats and when she didn’t. At this point, she was on his side.

“We have our hands full of the rebellious trash.” She jerked her thumb back to her crew, who were skulking around in the dark with their catch. “Kill this motherfucker.”

Without hesitation, Leon snapped the vampire’s neck clean, ripping his head off in the process as his lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Letting out a huff from the effort, he tossed the head aside, feeling nothing for the wretched being that lay at his feet. Or did he? He chose not to dwell on it any further, finding something else to distract himself with as he glanced down at his clothes, frowning when he noticed they were smeared with all sorts of fluids and innards. Dry cleaning was gonna be a bitch.

Jill signaled towards your body with her chin. “This one’s barely alive.”

“She’s mine.” A deep-seated possessiveness surged through him as he stepped between you and Jill, unwilling to let you be snatched away from his grasp again. Swooping down, he lifted you into his arms, ready to cart you off from this gruesome site. “Please, I don’t have much time.”

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head and a low rumble reverberated from her chest. “Alright, pretty boy. You’re answerable to the Prince though,” she warned.

“Understood,” he replied snippily, cringing at the nickname she often used to wind him up.

Directing her attention once again to her Hound, she commanded, “Torch the rest!”

The poor, newly created vampires never stood a chance, dealing with both the life-changing alterations to their bodies and the molotov cocktails now lobbed at them. They had no idea what was happening as they were set aflame in the towering bonfire, screeching and wailing until they were reduced to nothing but ashes. The smell of singed skin and flesh hung in the air.

Tightening his grip on you, Leon recoiled involuntarily in fear as he fled from the raging inferno. “Hang in there for me,” he whispered, praying to a long-forgotten god that he wouldn’t be too late this time. 

Racing like his life depended on it, he kept to the shadows, using the cover of darkness to navigate through the maze of Raccoon City towards his haven.