#an unfortunate year where everything is supernatural

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters: part two

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part two word count: 12.4k

part two warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, me forcing you to read extensive vampire lore, the supernatural elements are ramped up a notch (or, like, eight notches), semi-graphic descriptions and depictions of violence

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: and to absolutely no one’s surprise, I cannot stop talking about vampire heeseung, so this story will be more than two parts. this is not the end. I want to say it will be around 4-5. potentially more. (yay if you’re excited, and my apologies if you’re not.) again, I want to name the sources I used to help me create this: the dark moon webtoon is where lots of the lore comes from, and influences from twilight are also scattered throughout. okay I think that’s it. for now at least… as always, happy reading ♡

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

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Everything hurts. 

As your consciousness slowly begins to trickle back in, pain is the most prominent sensation. It comes in slow, steady waves. With a certain kind of deep ache. 

Eyes still screwed shut, your brow furrows. The movement only inspires anothing intense wave of throbbing pain that thuds against your temples. 

As senses begin to emerge, you can tell that you’re horizontal. Lying down. The surface beneath you is soft. It dips and curves, gives to the shape of your body. A bed, maybe. 

Delicately, you try moving your right arm. Wiggling your toes. Both are responsive, but there’s a profound soreness sitting deep within your muscle that makes you strain against a whimper from even the tiniest of movements. 

And your throat. It’s so dry. Scraped raw as if someone has taken sandpaper to it. As if you’ve been screaming. 

You inhale deeply, assessing the way air inflates the lungs beneath your ribs. Even there, deep within you, there’s a dull, muted ache. A pain that lingers. As the ensuing exhale leaves your body, you note another sensation. 

The emptiness of your stomach. The deep pangs of hunger that roll like nausea. 

With no small amount of reluctance, you begin the arduous task of opening your eyes. One slow blink that bleeds into another. 

At first, the only thing you see is a vast expanse of white. Blinding light makes you want to squint. Close your eyes again. But it’s nothing but a trick of your own senses. Causes by eyes that have gone unused for an extended period of time. 

Slowly, the space above you begins to take on its true tone. A soft, even light gray that coats the expanse of the ceiling. Turning your head to the side, you ignore the protest of pain from your neck. 

You let your eyes wander for a minute. But as the space around you begins to come into focus, you’re left with more questions than answers. 

Your earlier assertion had been correct. You are lying in a bed. But it’s not the one you’ve grown used to. This isn’t your apartment. 

No, the bedroom around you is an unfamiliar one. But that’s undoubtedly what it is: a bedroom. Threadbare maybe, but with small touches of life. Aside from your current resting place, there’s a desk on the opposite side of the room. A nightstand right next to you. A small lamp that emanate a warm, golden glow. 

Forcing your body into an upright position, you wince at the effort it takes just to sit upright, to maneuver every aching limb into place. 

More details of the room come into focus. A computer monitor and keyboard on the desk. The small stack of books next to it. A record player. A small dresser. Little trinkets of personality, but nothing that serves you now. 

Even through the haze in your sleep-addled mind, you’re sure you’ve never seen any of it before. Why are you here? Where is here?

And why does your body hurt so damn much, nerves under your skin singing like they’ve been wrung out to dry?

The fog in your mind refuses to clear. Soon, another emotion begins to emerge alongside the confusion as the reality of the situation sets in. 

You’re alone. In an unfamiliar room. Hungry as if it’s been days since you’ve eaten. 

Judging from the way your limbs respond to even the most minute of movements, you’re injured. Badly. 

Flexing your left leg again, you wince. Can you even walk right now? 

This is bad. This is very, very bad. 

The beginnings of panic begin to trace your mind. Again, you’re searching the room. This time, however, you focus on memorizing the layout. Finding anything that might be of any use to you, that might help you identify your location. That might help you craft an escape.

Your search turns up two doors, one to your left and one directly across from the foot of the bed. Both are unmarked. Both are pulled shut. 

It’s possible that your panic is premature. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that this was nothing more than the bedroom of a rather minimalistic university student. But if that were the case why did you wake up here alone, head pounding, body aching?

That alone is definitive. Something is very wrong. 

Instinctively, you try to retrace your steps. You must have gotten here somehow. But the more you try to walk back through your memory, the hazier things become. The inside of your mind is like a murky labyrinth, dead ends at every corner. Rearranging and shifting the more you try to focus. 

It’s as if a dense fog has clouded over your ability to think, to recall. No matter how close you get to a memory, you can’t see anything. 

That alone is enough to send another fresh wave of panic straight to your bones. Alone, injured, and you can’t remember any of the events that led you to this strange place. 

Gingerly, you turn your body so that your legs hang off the side of the bed, bare feet resting lightly on the floor. That movement alone requires several of your deep inhales. 

Slowly, you try putting weight on your feet, your legs. It’s not pleasant by any means, but they hold steady. Or at the very least, they don’t buckle beneath you. Aside from the soreness, there’s a distinct fatigue in your extremities. One that gives them a slight shake the longer you try to stand. 

You doubt you can run, but at least you’re not completely immobile. Maybe, given enough adrenaline, you can walk. Crawl. 

But now you’re faced with another dilemma. Two doors. Two points of entry, two potential routes to escape. Or two paths to further danger. Trapped in a windowless room, you have no way of knowing which of your two choices, if any, is better. 

But you can’t just stay here. Backed into a corner, practically a sitting duck. Eyes darting between the two doors, you steel yourself for the inevitable flash of pain fully standing will inevitably cause. 

The door to the left of the bed. The door at the foot of the bed. 

Just as you’ve decided to veer to the right, muscles tensing in anticipation, a knock rings out. Your breath catches in your throat, panic reaching its peak as your heart beats a furious rhythm in your chest. There’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go.One rap against the door to your left. Two. Three. 

You won’t make it to the other door in time. Not on your legs. 

There’s a moment of suspended silence. And then, the door is opening. 

Instinctively, you push yourself backwards on the bed., trying to put as much space as physically possible between you and the stranger that enters. 

And a stranger he certainly is. With a tentative sort of slowness, a boy peers around the edge of the door, squinting in the low light. 

When he sees that you’re upright, he pushes into the room fully, closing the door quietly behind him. The glimpse you get over his shoulder doesn’t reveal much. Another room, maybe, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain. 

“You’re awake,” he nods, more to himself than anything. “I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

Back pressed against the wall, you have nowhere left to go. Still hunched as if that will do anything to protect you, you stare at the boy in front of you. 

Maybe, you think. Maybe you could move fast enough to grab the lamp from the nightstand before he realizes what’s happening. Could use it as some sort of weapon, some meager means of self-defense. 

“Who are you?” Your throat is scraped raw. It hurts to speak, to think, to do much of anything. “Where am I?”

“Oh.” The boy pauses for a moment. For the first time since he entered, he stops to look at you. Really look at you. The extent of the terror that’s embedded in your features, written in the positioning of your body. 

Immediately, he stops in his tracks. Retreats a few steps until he’s back at the far edge of the room, just in front of the door he entered from. “Sorry, I guess it was probably quite the shock to wake up here. My name is Jake. You’re in our…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Well, our home, I suppose.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Chest still rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even your breathing. You can still feel your pulse in your neck. 

If the situation weren't so disorienting, so terrifyingly confusing, you might be mildly amused by the almost… sheepish look that crosses his features. Where he avoids eye contact with you from the doorframe, this boy certainly doesn’t look like a threat. 

If you had to guess, you’d say that he — Jake — is around your age. With dark hair that falls across his forehead and wide, dark eyes, he has a distinct sort of beauty that almost reminds you of… 

Suddenly, in the confines of your missing memories, you’re grasping at straws again. 

“Specifically,” Jake adds, realizing the information might be pertinent to you, “this is Heeseung’s room.”

Heeseung. You know that name. You think it’s the one you were searching for. 

Heeseung. 

It sparks something. A flicker of a memory. A ghost of the answers you seek. 

You feel like you’re on the verge of a revelation when you ask, “Where is he? Heeseung?”

Jake’s expression betrays no surprise. He’d expected you to ask him that, you realize. It does, however, suddenly appear a bit more guarded. “He’s recovering. That poison he got out of you really did a number on him.”

For a moment, his words do nothing but reverberate in your aching skull. And then—

“Poison?”

Jake just looks at you for a second, brow pulling down in confusion as if you’re the strange one in this situation. As if poison and Heeseung’s apparent removal of it should already be old news. Then, a flicker of realization crosses his features. His brow softens. 

“That’s right,” he mumbles. Again, it seems more for his benefit than yours. “I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

Moonflower? In humans? 

“Memory loss?”

“It’s only temporary,” Jake says, as if that’s enough to make everything better. “Everything will start to come back soon, I’m sure.” He pauses, frowning. A flicker of sympathy enters his gaze. “I feel like I should warn you, though. Judging from the way you and Heeseung came in here a couple of nights ago, it might be a lot to take in all at once when they do.”

A couple of nights ago. Which means—

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Just over two days. It’s Friday night now. Almost midnight.” While the shock of that settles into your system, Jake continues, “Which reminds me, I brought you some things I thought you might need.”

He turns away from you, opening the door. When he closes it behind him again, he now has two bags in his hand. Carefully, like one might approach a wounded animal, he takes slow footsteps towards you. 

Setting the bags down next to the nightstand, he explains, “This one has water and food. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so feel free to have whatever, and let us know if there’s anything else you want.”

Looking at the second bag, he adds, “I also brought you some clothes. We didn’t really have anything for a girl here. I mean, Sunghoon had a couple of things, but I didn’t really think you’d want them. Sunoo and Niki went out and got some stuff. I’m sure they did their best, but, uh,” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “No promises.”

Jake nods towards the dresser that sits by the desk. “If you hate everything, you can also look through whatever Heeseung has in there. I’m sure he wouldn't mind.”

That name again. Heeseung. There’s nothing solid in your memory, but heat finds itself on your cheekbones anyway. The thought of wearing his clothes just feels like something that should warrant that reaction, even if you’re not sure why. 

“There’s also a bathroom through that door.” Jake jerks his chin towards the door across from the foot of the bed. And maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t have enough time to craft an escape through there, you think. This conversation might have been significantly more awkward in a bathroom. “Feel free to use anything in there, including the shower, if you want. There should be clean towels in the bottom drawer.”

He takes another long look at you, that same sympathy from earlier coloring his gaze. It feels weighted, heavy. As if he’s forseen some great tragedy you’re not yet privy too. As if he knows something you don’t. “I’m sure you have a million questions, but I think you’ll feel better with some food and water in you.” He nods towards the bags he set close to you. “And a fresh change of clothes.” 

He’s probably right. With the urgency of your former panic subsiding, you still don’t feel at ease. But neither fight nor flight seem like appropriate responses to this situation. Which leaves you stuck with a third one: reluctant trust. 

As you make your peace with it, something begins to press at the fog in your mind. It swirls, collects as if being pressed against a glass window. Your memories are still evasive, but there’s something there, in that haze. Syllables stuck on a loop, a constant repetition that begs your attention. 

Heeseung. 

There’s a sudden urgency in your gut. The distinct feeling that things will start to make sense again if you can just see him, talk to him. Jake said that he’s recovering. From poison. But you don’t know what that means, don’t understand what kind of gravity it might hold. 

Vague sentiments conveyed through a messenger are hardly enough to satisfy the tugging in your mind. 

So you ask, “Can I see him? Heeseung?”

Something flickers across Jake’s gaze, too fast for you to catch it fully. Concern maybe. A premonition of fear. Still, he says, “He’s okay. I promise. You’ll be able to see him soon.” For a moment, Jake falls into silence, weighing words on his tongue like he can’t decide if he should share them or not. “But he’s not really in the best shape for visitors right now. Take care of you first, and then we can talk more if you want. And when you’re both ready, you can see Heeseung, too.”

It’s hardly a satisfying answer, but Jake holds the cards here. You have nothing to leverage, nothing to bargain. 

Before he leaves, he reiterates, “I’m sure that your memories will start to come back soon. Like I said, it might be a lot all at once. I’ll let you eat and get changed, if you want. The door locks.” He nods to the door handle. “So does the one on the bathroom door. And please, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just outside.”

Gently, Jake opens the door, pulls it shut behind him. And then you’re alone again. 

Gone is the frantic terror you awoke with, and left in its wake is a gentler sort of fear. A deep sense of unease that refuses to fade. 

Pushing it aside for now, you attend to your baser needs. Heeding Jake’s advice, you retrieve the first bag he left for you, pulling it up onto the bed. 

The first thing you see is a bottle of water. You make quick work of pulling it out, removing the cap, and taking a long sip. It’s cool, refreshing. Soothes your aching throat before settling heavily at the bottom of your empty stomach. 

Taking another handful of gulps, you replace the cap before setting it on the nightstand. Opening the bag further, you reveal its other contents. 

It’s possibly the strangest assortment of food that you’ve ever seen. Frowning in confusion, you take stock of what you’ve been given. It just gets weirder the more you look at it. It’s as if Jake went to the grocery store and just grabbed the first thing he saw in every aisle with no regard for how they would fit together. As if he hasn’t made himself a meal since the day he was born. 

The first thing you pull out is a box of dry pasta, completely inedible without cooking utensils you currently have no access to. Jake did say you could ask him for anything, but even boiling water has a way of feeling like an insurmountable task in your current state. You move on. 

What follows is hardly better. There’s a singular, unripe avocado, an entire family sized bag of clementine oranges, three boxes of breakfast cereal, a loaf of bread, and — you pause a moment to count — eight different kinds of granola bars. 

Pushing past the strangeness, you figure you don’t need a Michelin star meal to ease the hunger. For now, you decide that one of the granola bars and a clementine look the most appetizing. 

After a few minutes, the blunt edges of hunger lose their sharpness. But even with a bit of food in your system, the nausea hold steady. 

Mind addled, you curse yourself for not asking him the most obvious question. What the hell happened to you? 

But he did say your memories should be coming back soon, and you decide you’ll just have to trust in that for now. 

Next, you reach for the bag of clothes. You didn’t think it was possible, but it somehow manages to be even stranger than the food. 

To your shoppers’ credit, they are girls’ clothes, yes, but it seems that was the only criteria for selection. It’s the dead of winter, and the first two things you pull out are a pair of denim shorts and a sundress. Frowning, you refold them both, placing them back in the bag. At least they still have their tags. Hopefully the two boys Jake mentioned kept their receipt. 

That leaves you with your other option. Glancing over at the dresser, his dresser, you’re at an impasse. 

Even with gaping holes in your memory, it feels invasive, far too intimate to look through his things. To go through his clothes until you find something that suits you. To wear it without his permission. 

Taking a sidelong glance at the pair of denim shorts, you decide you don’t have all that much pride left to barter, anyway. After all, you work up disoriented, weak, and missing all of your memories in the boy’s bed. What’s a spare change of clothes in comparison with that?

As you gingerly pad your way to the dresser, you decide it feels less like snooping if you only reach for what’s on top. Luck is on your side. The first thing you see when you open the top drawer is a sweatshirt and matching pair of sweatpants, both of which are ridiculously soft. 

Stolen goods in tow, you continue towards the bathroom door. Pulling it closed behind you, you see that Jake was telling the truth. The lock slides into place with a small click.  

Like his bedroom, Heeseung’s bathroom is fairly nondescript. Devoid of decor, it holds what he needs and little else. Opening the bottom drawer of the vanity, you find a clean towel and set it down on the counter, next to the clothes. 

Lifting your head, you catch your reflection in the mirror. It’s enough to have you double take. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The tangled mess of hair and dark circles of exhaustion beneath your eyes are things you could forgive. Two days of straight sleep is enough to wreak at least a little havoc on anyone. 

But that’s not what has your reflection freezing. 

Delicately, as if the truth will somehow be less awful if revealed slowly, you tilt your head to the side. Pull your hair away, tuck it behind your ear. Expose the dark, mottled assortment of discolored marks that extend all the way from your jaw to the base of your neck. 

Bruises. Deep, dark bruises. 

And on top of them, uneven, flaky patches of multicolored crimson. Dried blood, you realize as your stomach gives a sickening lurch. 

Is it yours? Heeseung’s? Someone else’s? 

The fog in your mind suddenly feels like an enclosure. Holding you hostage and dangling your forgotten memories just out of reach. Trapping you in the darkness and offering no way out, no way through. Just a dim candle against the vast, midnight darkness of terror. 

You’re too wrung out to cry, too confused to so much as gasp. As reality unfolds, devastation seems to be the norm, not the exception. Even if your throat weren’t raw, you’re not sure you’d scream. 

With trepidation, you raise a hand, watching the way your fingers tremble in your reflection. And then your run a gentle touch over the evidence of destruction, a war waged on your skin. Once it nears your jaw, you feel something. A small bump that has you hissing at the contact. 

Leaning forward, you examine it closer. It’s a tiny wound, barely perceptible. It reminds you of a vaccination at the doctor’s office. Neat, sterile. 

Enough to be confusing, yes. Arguably even concerning. But it’s not what has you reeling. 

Because around the tiny mark are two more puncture wounds. Perfectly circular still, but decidedly larger. Rougher. Deeper. They’re embedded into your skin on either side of the smaller wound. And if you didn’t know any better, if your mind had any more capacity for the impossible, you’d almost think they look like…

You’d almost think they look like bite marks. 

The longer you stare, the more sinister they appear. The more hopelessly horrified you feel. What happened to you? Why does the side of your neck look like a watercolor painting of violets? Why does it look like you’ve been bitten?

If this is what you look like, what kind of state is Heeseung in? Jake said it himself that he’s in no condition for visitors. 

What if he’s not recovering as well as Jake said? What if it’s your fault—?

No. You won’t let yourself spiral there. 

Memories, you just need your memories. 

Which means you just need a little more time. 

The shower, to your relief, has plenty of hot water to spare. For long minutes, you just stand there, letting it pour over you, your skin, your aching muscles. As water seeps through the drain, it carries some of your tension with it.

You watch as the water that circles the drain runs red before it clears again, blood washed away from your skin.

It’s instinct, mostly. The desire to confirm what you already know, that has you retracing the strange marks on your neck. 

A hiss of pain is the only thing that ensues in response at first. But then something else comes. 

A flicker of a memory. 

A strange place, a dark room. 

New Haven. The publishing house. Because you had gone there to meet Professor Kim, to show him your draft, to see the space you’d won an internship in. 

It’s coming back now, in fragments. 

There had been something strange, though. It was dark when you arrived. Dark and empty and quiet until—

Until suddenly it wasn’t. Until Heeseung was there with you.

Warm water traces steady lines on your skin. Your memory reappears in tangled, discombobulated jumbles. Things clicking into place as you do your best to sort them chronologically. 

Heeseung was there, but he wasn’t supposed to be. You had gone there to see Professor Kim. Why wasn’t he—?

The sudden flash of memory is sickening. Has another bout of nausea threatening the contents of your stomach. 

It all comes back, all at once. Replaying like a nightmare, like a scene plucked from a horror film. 

Blood dripping from your professor’s mouth. Clothes tattered on his body. Heeseung shielding you, protecting you. 

But Professor Kim wasn’t himself. He wasn’t right. He threw something at you. Something that hit you right where he intended. 

Without your permission, your fingers are back on the slippery skin of your neck. The blood is gone, but the wound remains just the same. The wound that Professor Kim gave to you. 

You remember the feeling of floating, of being distant from your body, removed from reality. Mind on some other plane of existence. 

You remember gentle, insistent, desperate hands on your waist. Your jaw. Your forehead. 

Heeseung, bent over you, consuming your limited plane of vision as your eyelids became too heavy to remain open. 

Pain in your neck. Sharp at first. Then dull, numbing. 

Heeseung. Heeseung bit you. Held you in his arms as consciousness drained from your body along with your blood. 

Poison, Jake had called it. ‘Poison he got out of you.’

It’s all so strange. They’re your memories, yes, and you’re sure of them, but why was there poison in your neck? Why was biting you the solution? How did his teeth leave such perfectly circular marks on—?

The final puzzle piece clicks into place. 

Vampire attacks. You had been worried about Heeseung, relieved to see him safe and sound at New Haven. Because you had just read about vampire attacks. 

Robotically, you turn the water off. Step out of the shower, wrap a towel around your body. 

His clothes are soft against your skin. 

Heeseung saved you. Of that, you’re sure. But what about the three people at the river? The three victims of a vampire attack?

It can’t be true. It can’t. You don’t know him, not really, but he’s just… Heeseung. 

An annoyingly competent poet and a massive pain in your ass. Someone that walks you home when you stay too late in the library. Someone that calls your writing awful when it is, when you need a cold, hard reality check. 

He’s… he’s just Heeseung. He’s not a—

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the thought. 

But your memories are back, and there’s a alertness to your mind that only sharpens as the fog clears. 

At the edge of your mind, Jake’s voice replays. Something you glossed over in your confusion, something you fixate on now. 

“I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

“I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

The strange assortment of food. Jake’s undeniable, uncanny beauty. The kind you’ve only ever seen in one other person. 

Jake was right. You do feel a bit better with food and water in your stomach. With the last three days of horror washed off of your skin. But your mind is alert now. The memories are coming back. Puzzle pieces rearranging and clicking into place with alarming accuracy. 

And as the dust settles, you’re suddenly very, very afraid of the reality that greets you. 

In your mind, the facts play on a loop. 

You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how to leave. Jake has been nothing but kind, but if he so wished, you’re sure he could overpower you easily. And he insinuated that he’s not the only one here. 

You need answers. You need to leave. But Heeseung…

You have to know. 

Is the boy you’ve been trying to outwrite for months, the boy you shared a moment under a moonlit sky with, is he a… a vampire?

Why was he at New Haven that day? Did he know about Professor Kim? Did he know about the deaths at the river? Was he complicit in them? Was he responsible for them?

Clothed in determination and a fleeting moment of bravery, you undo the lock on the bathroom door, passing through the bedroom, his bedroom, on furious footsteps. The second door opens just as easily as the bathroom had, and suddenly, you’re in the room you caught just a glimpse of before. A living room, of sorts. Some sort of common area. 

True to his earlier word, Jake sits nearby. Planted on a navy sofa, he looks up when you enter. “How are you feeling? Do you need any—”

Manners are the last thing on your mind when you interrupt him mid-sentence. “What are you?” Not ‘who are you.’ That won’t give you the answer you seek. The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous. 

Jake’s mouth falls shut, presses into a line. Hesitation paints his features. “I don’t think this is the best—”

You won’t hear it. “What are you?”

Jake holds up his palms in surrender. “Your memories are starting to come back, I take it. Look, we can explain everything, just—”

On the far end of the room, another door opens. Another boy enters. Just like Heeseung, just like Jake, he’s beautiful. Moves with that same unnatural grace that you used to admire when you thought no one would notice. Now, it has another surge of nausea rolling in your stomach. 

Jake glances at the new arrival. He sighs. “This isn’t really a good time, Sunghoon. Why don’t you—”

The boy, Sunghoon, never hears Jake’s suggestion. Instead, he cuts him off. And once again, your world is spinning. 

“He’s back.”

…..

You are the last to enter the strange room. On the heels of Jake and Sunghoon, despite the former’s insistence that you wait and see him later, you take in your surroundings. 

Odd enough was the long, winding hallway that led you here, but this is even stranger. Instead of a proper door, the room is guarded by long, thick metal bars. They stand ajar now but bear a rather impressive lock. You have the distinct impression that this place was designed to keep people out. Or maybe rather to keep someone in. 

You hear him before you see him. Memories recovered, the sound of his voice is something you’re well attuned to, even if it flickers with a strong tone of annoyance. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I told you, it’s a ridiculously strong sedative at its core. We’ll react strangely, yes, but it’s not the same as bloodlust—”

“Still,” another voice argues. “We all saw how she looked when you brought her in. You had to have drank a considerable amount—”

“I told you I’m fine, Jungwon,” Heeseung counters. “Do I look out of control to you? Would I be sitting here having this conversation with you if I was?”

“Fine.” It’s the same voice. Jungwon. “If you’re alive and well, then maybe you can answer my question. What were you doing at New Haven? Do you know how long we’ve—”

It’s probably stupid, shoving past people in their own home. People that you suspect are dangerous, that might not really be people at all. But you have to see him. You have to know. 

Once you finally get around Sunghoon, your view of the room opens up. Sparsely decorated, dimly lit, and there are four other boys you don’t recognize. You pay them no attention. 

Because in the middle of it all stands Heeseung. Maybe, if you squint, you could argue that he looks a little worse for wear. There’s a pink flush under his eyes, a slight disarray to his usually perfect hair, but other than that, he paints the perfect, untouchable picture he always has. 

At the commotion of your sudden movement, all eyes in the room turn from Heeseung and land squarely on you. For a moment, seven gazes just look at you. All of them are blank. Lost. Out of depth. 

All except for the one you match. 

Where he stands, Heeseung stares at you with an intensity you’ve only seen once before. In a moment you wish you could forget. In a fragmented memory you already know you’re cursed to carry forever. 

Slowly, his eyes scan the length of your body, something in his jaw tightening when he notes the clothes you’re wearing. His clothes. 

Jungwon is still pressing him for answers. Heeseung doesn’t bother to provide any. 

Instead, he says, “Give us a minute.”

He’s still looking at you. Frozen in place, his eyes trace the line of your neck, ghosting over the array of bruises, the twin wounds he left there. His voice betrays no emotion, but his eyes flash with something that looks all too much like regret, shame. 

Jungwon balks for a moment. “No, I’m not giving you a minute. You could have jeopardized everything we’ve been working towards—”

Heeseung does break eye contact with you then. Turning to the boy that stands next to him, he says, “What’s done is done, Jungwon. A few more minutes won’t change that. You can shout at me some more in a minute.”

“Ouch.” A boy that you don’t recognize winces. 

“Right?” another one of the strangers agrees. “A pretty human over five hundred years of brotherhood.” He shakes his head. “I’d expect that from Sunghoon, maybe, but—”

Behind you, Jake sighs. “Is this really the time, you two?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees, arms crossing his chest as he pouts. “And I take offense to that, you know. I would not put all of your hard work in danger for a human.” Sunghoon takes a sidelong glance at you. “No offense.”

“Just give us a minute,” Heeseung repeats again, more command in his voice this time as he slides a palm through his hair in frustration. “Please. All of you.”

There’s enough authority in his voice time. Or maybe enough pleading. Whatever it is, the rest of the room files out, one by one. Even Jungwon, although he does cast one final, warning look over his shoulder. 

It’s lost on Heeseung, who has already turned his attention back to you. “Are you okay?” 

An echo of the past, a reminder of why you’re here. Of why your throat threatens to close up now, just looking at him.  

Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how you’d answer him. Physically, you’re sore. Tired even though you’ve been sleeping for days. Temporary aches. Things that will heal with rest and time. 

Mentally, though… Your mind is spinning a million miles a minute. Even now, face to face with him, you can’t reconcile all of the pieces of Heeseung you’ve gathered. 

Indifferent student. Brilliant writer. Honest reviewer. Maybe even a friend. 

Vampire. 

You don’t know what to make of him. You don’t know how to piece him together. 

He’s here, standing in front of you. You used to stare at the back of his head during lectures. Used to fantasize about him giving you a minute of his time. 

And now, it’s just the two of you. Alone. His eyes search your face, his focus consumed by you. And he’s never felt further away. 

You don't answer his question. Instead, you ask one of your own. 

“What’s going on?” Your voice is small, holds none of the command you wish it could. “And don’t… don’t you dare lie to me.”

Across from you, Heeseung exhales. There’s a distinct sorrow in his eyes. “I won’t. But it’s a long story. And there are parts of it I’m not sure you’ll like.”

“I don’t care.” But you do, so much that it hurts. You almost wish you were still begging for scraps of his attention. At least then, you knew where you stood. “I want the truth.” That much, at least, is honest. 

Heeseung nods, as if any of this is simple. “Then you’ll have it.”

A beat of silence passes. You remember the question you had asked Jake less than an hour ago. What are you? You can’t quite bring yourself to ask it now. Not with everything that has passed between you. Not when it feels like more of an accusation than an inquiry. 

You wear his wounds on your skin. You don’t know why you still want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, you ask, “Who are you?” The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous. 

Heeseung doesn’t smile, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’m not undercover. My name is Heeseung.” The flicker of amusement dies. He knows what you’re really asking him. He knows it’s not an easy answer to give, not an easy truth to receive. “But I’m… different. I was born with a strange ability.”

You breathe. “What kind of ability?”

Heeseung looks down at his hands. Studies them for a moment before turning back to you. “It would be easier to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Instinctively, your hand finds the wound on your neck. 

A dark shadow crosses Heeseung’s features. “That’s not the ability I’m referring to.” 

There’s a chair in the room, just behind him. He walks to it and sits down at the edge, knees wide. “Come here.”

You shouldn’t. You should stay as far away as space allows. You shouldn’t let him do anything. In every sense of the word, he holds the advantage here. You’re in his home. He has knowledge you don’t. The only thing you have left to leverage is the distance between you and your decision to maintain it. 

But every inch between you was doomed to be a losing battle. Steady, slow footsteps erase the distance between you as you come to stand directly in front of him. 

At this angle, with your positioning, he’s forced to look up at you. Chin lifted, he whispers, “Hold out your hand.”

You could try to fight. You could question him. You don’t. Resistance was always going to be futile. In no time at all, your hand is outstretched. 

Once again, Heeseung studies his own fingers. A shudder traces the length of his spine. Hesitation spills from every minute movement, every microexpression you’re allowed. It’s straining him, you realize. This ability is not something he’s excited to share. 

You can’t decide if that eases your worry or increases it tenfold. 

But after another wasted moment, his right hand reaches out to encircle the skin of your left wrist. For a few stilted heartbeats, it’s just the two of you in a strange room, a cage of sorts, your wrist cradled in his loose grip. 

Then, your vision begins to flicker. At first, you think it’s a trick of the light. Something lingering side effect of a long sleep as everything begins to go out of focus. 

But as the room around you fades, something takes its place. It takes a moment to manifest completely, for your eyes to adjust. 

In front of you, Heeseung still sits in his chair, gaze trained on your wide eyes. But the two of you are no longer in the small, threadbare room. Instead, you stand in an open field, freckled with wildflowers and teeming with butterflies. Above you, the sky is blue and vast, the late summer sun casting a vibrant glow over everything. 

In your shock, you nearly wrench your arm out of Heeseung’s grip. He senses the movement, tightens his fingers around your wrist before you can pull away. 

“Sorry.” He glances at where you two are touching. “It’s better not to break contact once you’re in. It’s quite disorienting if you do. And it will give you awful motion sickness.”

Once you’re in where? Turning your head, you look for something, anything, that makes even the tiniest bit of sense. But all you see is grass. The vast expanse of an open field that only ends where it meets the sky. 

“Where are we?”

“Still in the same room,” Heeseung says. “Physically, at least.” He takes a deep breath. “This is the ability I referred to. It’s a bit difficult to describe, but I can… project my consciousness, I guess. As long as we maintain physical contact, I can show you things from my mind. Memories, visions, anything I dream up. What you see now is the field where I discovered my ability, actually. A friend and I were playing here. I was ten.” He pauses, looks at you. “The year was 1534.”

The full weight of his words barely has time to settle before the vision is morphing, the scene changing into another. 

“It’s difficult to know where to start, but I suppose the beginning is as good a place as any. In the Kingdom of Celedis,” he narrates, “there were eight noble families that had been feuding with each other for over a century. As a result of their petty infighting, the common people suffered. There was constant strife throughout the kingdom. Pains that caused immense suffering but left the nobles untouched. There were frequent blockades, limits on trading, restricted movement, and nasty skirmishes along the borders. Petty crime ran rampant, unchecked. People weren’t safe anywhere, not even in their homes.”

You see it just as he imagines it. Tired, hungry, exhausted people. Mistreated and left to the whims of whatever best suited the nobles’ current desires. 

And the rulers, the nobles themselves. Eight men, adorned in finery, showered with gifts and praise and fine wines while the people just outside the walls of their ornate homes suffered just to survive, starving to death while they gorged themselves on luxury. 

You wouldn’t consider yourself an expert in history, and it’s not like the scenario is exactly uncommon, but you still find it strange that you’ve never heard of this place, not even in passing. 

“Celedis?” You frown. 

“It’s been erased now,” is all Heeseung says. “From both existence and memory. But it was real, a long time ago. And it was where I was born.”

Again, the scene around you starts to take on that odd, unfocused quality. It’s changing again. By now, you almost feel accustomed to the way images and light start to distort as one vision bleeds into another. 

“Celedis was a strange kingdom,” Heeseung continues. “Full of old magic. Ancient rituals and rites that faded from most places but held true there. The land was, in many ways, just as alive as you and I. And it grew weary of seeing its people suffer.”

You see a man now, dressed in simple clothes, tucked in the back corner of what appears to be a shop. He’s surrounded by crystals, trinkets, and old, leather-bound books. 

“One night, the eight noble lords received a message from a seer, one that claimed to communicate with the land, to speak for Celedis as its messenger. The seer told them that the old magic of the land would grant them a single wish on one condition: There had to be peace in the kingdom by the night of the blood moon. A night that comes only once every hundred years. When the moon itself shines bright red.  

“Seven of the lords, eager to have a wish granted, did as the seer advised. They ceased their fighting, recalled their troops. Began to support and protect their people once again. The eighth lord, however, did not.”

After a moment, you’re plunged into darkness. Above you, the night sky of Heeseung’s mind twinkles with distant stars and a distinct, crimson red moon. Seven men, all dressed in finery, stand around an oak tree. The rules of Heeseung’s ability don’t seem to be governed by the laws of physics. You watch as an eighth man appears, seemingly out of thin air. The same man from the crystal shop. 

“The seven who heeded the seer’s advice gathered on the night of the blood moon to pass along their wish — they wanted their bloodlines to endure forever. 

“The seer passed this message along, but old magic is a fickle thing. You have to be precise with your words, or things will be lost in translation. Interpreted in strange ways.”

Now, you stand in a nursery. There’s a crib in the corner. A pregnant woman bends over it, singing a soft lullaby. 

“Within the year, each of the seven noble lords gave birth to a son. They took this with great joy, a sign that their wish had come true. Before the year reached its end, each of the seven had procured a strong, healthy heir to succeed them.”

Suddenly, you’re back in the endless field from before, watching two young boys play in the distance. 

“But these were no ordinary sons. And around the age of ten, each of them revealed a special ability, a supernatural gift.” 

The two boys are playing a game, you realize. You can’t decipher the rules, but you watch as they throw their heads back in a burst of carefree laughter. The first young boy grabs his friend by the wrist. A harmless gesture. A meaningless touch. 

The second boy recoils as if he’s been burned. Hand back at his side, he doubles over in pain, emptying the contents of his stomach. 

In front of you, Heeseung looks away. 

In the distance, another version of Heeseung apologizes profusely as the other child turns his back. 

He changes the scene before you can watch any further. 

You’re in a bedroom now, watching a young man put on a jacket. It’s startling, almost, how similar he looks. The two of you watch as Heeseung, because it is undoubtedly him, pulls the jacket over his back, slides his arms through the sleeves. 

The resemblance is so uncanny that the only thing that sets this Heeseung apart, really, is the style of his clothing. The coat that obviously belongs to another century, lost to time. 

“And once each son reached their twenty-first birthday,” Heesung says. “They stopped aging.”

Heeseung and his jacket dissolve, change into something else. The new scene you look out upon is somber. Heeseung is there again, this time dressed in all black. The clothes of a mourner. Aside from that, he looks exactly the same. 

Then you see the casket. The portrait standing next to it. It’s her, you realize. The woman from the nursery, the one who hummed the lullaby. Much, much older though. Fifty years older. Maybe sixty. 

You look at this vision’s Heeseung again. He hasn’t aged a day. Still the epitome of youth, even as he mourns the death of his mother. 

“This was the interpretation of the wish, how it was warped through old magic. The bloodline would endure forever, because each son that had been born in the year of the blood moon was born immortal. But by doing so, the seven lords’ wish had also effectively ended their bloodline. Their sons would never grow old, never bear children. And none were ever given a sibling. 

“The eighth lord, the one that did not agree to peace and therefore did not receive a wish, had not yet foreseen this tragedy. He didn’t understand the implications of immortality, the terrible burden it brings. All he saw was an opportunity that he had lost. In his eyes, it had been stolen.”

You watch as the eighth lord bangs on the door of the crystal shop, face red, fury obvious in every inch of his visage. 

“When he discovered the nature of the gift the other lords had been given, the eighth became enraged. He went to the seer and demanded that he pass along his wish to the old magic of the land. That his son, born as an ordinary human, would also be given the gift of immortality.”

In front of you, the lord lunges at the seer, rage in his eyes. The seer raises his hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. 

“The seer pleaded with the lord. He tried to explain that he had no way of passing his request along. That the ability to communicate with old magic was not something he could do whenever he so pleased.”

The scene changes, the seer and his shop disappearing. Again, you see the oak tree. This time, though, it is only the eighth lord that stands before it. His eyes are sunken, shaded with deep, dark shadows. A mad desperation is painted across his features. 

“After murdering the seer for his insolence, the eighth lord went to the oak tree, a place rumored to be full of old magic. He wished for his son to become like the other seven sons, and he gave the seer’s blood as an offering.” 

The scene morphs again, fading until you’re surrounded by the ghastliest thing you’ve seen yet. You and Heeseung are in a small room. In the center, there’s an ornate dining table adorned with expensive cutlery and fine china. Lined with a lacy white tablecloth. 

And blood. The room, the tablecloth, the plates, are covered in dark, red blood. 

“There was one last thing that the eighth lord did not yet understand about immortality. About the other seven sons.”

One by one, you watch as they appear. 

Jake. Sunghoon. Jungwon. The others whose names you do not yet know. Heeseung.

Their mouths, clothes, faces, are all covered in it, dripping with it. Blood. 

“The old magic, above all, favors balance. In exchange for eternal life, it deemed that the only thing capable of sustaining it would be the life of others. Their blood. Once a year, on the anniversary of the day the seven noble lords cast their selfish wish, their seven sons would need to feed. To consume blood. This would sustain them for the rest of the year. They did not need to eat, drink, or sleep on any other day.

“But that one day, every year, they would always need blood.”

The horror of the bloody dining room fades. Now, you see the eighth son. Your eyes widen in fear as the image continues to develop in front of you, one ghastly scene traded for another. He is in a throne room, back bent unnaturally, a predatory glint in his eyes. Blood covers his mouth, his jaw. And as he rises to his full height, the rest of the horror is unveiled. 

He stands above the pale, drained, lifeless body of his father. 

“As I said before, old magic is a fickle thing. It listened to the eighth lord’s request that his son ‘become like the other seven sons,’ but not everything was the same. He was granted immortality, yes, and he also needed to consume blood to sustain himself. Unlike the original seven, he needed to feed frequently. Consume blood often. If he didn’t, the urges would drive him mad. Send him into a frenzy. 

“It was in such a state that he killed his own father. Murdered the rest of his family and every other living soul he found in the castle.”

You now stand in the dim light of a castle corridor. Beams of moonlight cast a cool glow as a soft breeze rustles tree branches just outside the window. It’s quiet, eerily so. In front of you, a person lies motionless. The wound on their neck matches yours, but instead of bruising, it’s surrounded by fresh blood. 

You watch in silent horror as the eighth son’s victim begins to twitch. At first, it’s just the fingers of their left hand. A spasm that shakes their shoulder. And then their mouth opens, face contorted in agony as they let out a long, blood curdling scream. 

Heeseung spares you the burden of hearing it.

“One of his victims, however, he did not drain fully of blood. Lost to his instinct, he had gorged himself so full that he could drink no more. This human, nearly dead, began to transform. And after long hours of acute agony, turned into a vampire of the same nature as the eighth son. Uncontrollable. Frenzied. And full of bloodlust.”

It reminds you of a montage, the scene that plays next. Still standing in front of Heeseung, your wrist still between his fingers, you watch as villages appear and fade. Families, lovers, children running in fear as the domino effect begins to take place. As one vampire becomes ten. As they fall into bloodlust, leaving a bloody path in their wake. 

The image of a young woman, mouth agape and features frozen in terror, remains imprinted on the backs of your eyelids as the small, dark room of Heeseung’s home comes back into view. As the last of the illusion fades, he releases his grip, freeing you from his ability. 

Your arm falls limply to your side. 

“For years,” he tells you, and there’s no image to accompany his words now. Nowhere to look but his eyes. “We just existed. Tried to carve meaning into our lives, tried to find a reason to keep living once it became apparent that was never something we would need to fight for. 

“But terror continued to reign. Vampire populations continued to spread and after three hundred long years of acting only in our own self-interest, we decided to intervene. To help the human effort to eradicate vampirism and the blight it had become. 

“But we never wanted to become judge, jury, or executioner. And playing god was never something we found pleasure in. We let many live. Vampires that demonstrated restraint, that chose to live far away from humans. Vampires that we came across on days we were tired of killing. Of being monsters.”

His words hang heavy between you. Was it a mistake, not finishing the job? Was it mercy?

“Professor Kim is what brought us here, actually. He has an unnaturally high level of control over his instincts. One we’ve never seen from a descendent of the eighth son.”

You inhale, more pieces beginning to fall into place. “So you enrolled in his course—”

“With the intention of winning the internship, yes,” he confirms. “Of getting a chance to study him up close.” 

Heeseung smiles wryly. “You were quite the pain at first, actually. After those first few days of class, I wasn’t so sure I could outwrite you.”

You have no idea what to say to that. An apology feels strange, but he’s just told you that you essentially foiled a grand plan to reduce the threat of vampires, to better understand their nature. “I…”

Heeseung pushes on, “It didn’t end up mattering, though.” He frowns. “The last day of the semester, the day I was late. I’d been following him. Trailing him from his house when he…” He trails off. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened. But I think he scented me. Or somehow realized I was on his tail.”

You frown. “Is that unusual?” You remember Jake’s words earlier. I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up. “I thought that vampires had heightened senses.”

“We do,” Heeseung clarifies. “But there are differences between us — the original seven — and all other vampires. Our senses are much stronger. They still have sharper senses than a human, yes, but I accounted for that. He shouldn’t have been able to detect me.”

“What are the other differences?”

“The seven of us are the only ones with any kind of additional abilities. We each have one, and they’re all different. We only need to feed once a year, and we have far more control over our instincts. We don’t experience bloodlust nearly as strong.” He passes you a meaningful glance. “Unless we’re feeding.”

Looking around, Heeseung confirms your suspicions.  “That’s what this room is, actually. A precautionary measure. It hasn’t happened in the last five hundred years, but we like knowing that there’s somewhere we won’t be able to escape, should the need for that ever arise.” 

“And you’re in here, because you… you drank my blood.”

Heeseung’s expression is unreadable. “Yes. The others thought it would be wise. It was precautionary. And ultimately unnecessary.” Again, he glances at your neck. “I didn’t experience any bloodlust. I was weak for a couple of days, but that wasn’t because of you. The dart that the professor shot you with had traces of moonflower in it. It’s poisonous for us.” 

As he looks at you, he explains, “Humans can ingest it safely in small doses, usually. Some brew it as a tea. You just have to be careful not to have too much, since it can cause temporary memory loss. But injected straight into the bloodstream, the effects are unknown.” His eyes flicker with a memory. You, crumpled in his arms, losing your grip on consciousness. “But it didn’t look good.”

So he had sucked it out of your neck. 

Your neck. Where he bit you.

Another piece of the vision he’s just shown you comes flashing back. 

“You bit me.” 

Heeseung meets your gaze. “I did.”

“Am I…” It’s hard to quell the panic once the realization starts to set in. Flashes of faces contorted in agony swim across your vision. “Am I going to change?”

“No,” Heeseung shakes his head. Leans forward, as if to reach for you. He thinks better of it, letting his hand fall back to his side. “No, that’s another difference. The seven of us can’t create new vampires.”

“Oh.” As the panic ebbs, you find yourself at a loss again. He saved you. Knowingly ingested a substance that could harm him to do so. Gratitude feels in order, but you can’t quite bring yourself to express it. 

The truth you want most to avoid dances on the tip of your tongue. “And you only… feed once a year.”

Again, Heeseung nods. “It doesn’t hurt us to ingest blood more frequently, but it’s not necessary. And like I said, we avoid it. We’re better at maintaining our inhibitions, but blood still has power over us. When we feed, it’s in a room like this. One we can’t get out of until we have complete control again.”

The questions that arise are morbid. How much blood is required to satisfy a year’s worth of thirst? How do they choose? Who lives, who dies for the hunger that binds them to this world? In the last five hundred years, how much blood has been washed from their hands, from his hands?

You can hardly ask him, but the truth still remains. “You’ve killed people.”

Heeseung’s gaze falls to the floor. “I won’t pretend to be innocent.” There’s a distinct edge of self-loathing when he says, “I won’t pretend that I’m not still… a monster. But the blood we ingest comes from animals, not humans.” 

He looks back to you, gaze searching as if he craves something from you. A flicker of trust. The reassurance that you’re not appalled by him, by everything he’s told you. 

You match his eye, and he hates the fear he finds reflected there. 

A moment of stilted silence passes. Another. The weight of a million revelations and a thousand unanswered questions rests heavily between you. It’s a lot to digest all at once. Too much. So much that your mind struggles to bear the weight of it all, to organize the information you’ve received into categories that give sense to the illogical, the impossible. 

Outside the barred door, you hear the whisper of a scuffle. 

“Stop that!”

“Move over. It’s been way more than a minute. I don’t care what he says. I’m going to—”

Heeseung sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns towards the door. “Just come in if you’re going to.”

Six boys tumble through the door in an excited heap. It reminds you a bit of overenthusiastic puppies. Again, you find the differences hard to reconcile. Killers. Monsters. Immortals beings with unnatural powers. 

And they look about as threatening as a gang of kittens. 

“So,” Jake starts, glancing between the two of you. “Did he tell you everything?”

You spare a look at Heeseung. The long fingers that rest at his side. “Showed me, actually.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Jake’s features. “Oh.” He tamps it quickly. “That is more efficient, I suppose.”

“Well,” another boy pipes up, one you don’t yet have a name for. “At least now you know why he’s been following you home like a lovesick puppy every night. You can rest assured he’s not just some crazy stalker, and he—”

“Jay,” Heeseung bites. “Would you shut up already?”

“You’ve been following me?”

“Oh.” Jay winces, realizing the misstep a moment too late. “Sorry, man.” 

Heeseung exhales again. “We were worried Professor Kim might do something,” he explains, looking at you. “It was a precautionary measure.” 

Behind you, you hear a snicker. “Precautionary measure, my ass.”

But you’re too caught up in a sudden realization. Your professor. “It was Professor Kim, then. Those bodies at the river…”

“No, actually.” Jake shakes his head. “We don’t think he was responsible for the bodies at the river.” He nods towards another boy. “Sunoo had eyes on him that night. He was home when the attacks occurred.” 

You frown. “So who was?”

“We don’t know.” Jungwon’s ire may not be directed at you, but you feel it all the same. “We have no idea, and your professor was our best shot at figuring it out.” He looks at Heeseung. “Thanks to the stunt you pulled, we have no way of getting closer to him now.”

Heeseung glares back. “If by stunt, you mean saving someone’s life, then yes, I pulled a stunt.”

“And now there have been three more attacks in the last two days!”

“Wait.” For a moment, your voice reverberates off the walls as all seven of them fall into silence, gazes turning to you. Your face heats at the sudden influx of attention. Finding your words again, you state the obvious oddity. “But it doesn’t make any sense that Professor Kim is a vampire. He hates vampires. Everything New Haven has published is essentially just anti-vampire propaganda.”

“That’s another mystery,” Heeseung says. “Something else we were trying to figure out. And honestly, Jungwon, I don’t think it would have mattered. I told you, he scented me that day, so I’m sure he already knew—”

“That’s impossible.” Jungwon scoffs. 

“And yet it happened.” Heeseung frowns. “There’s something strange about him.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a thin line. “Something that we’re no closer to finding out. It will take months for another one of us to get any sort of trust from him. Never mind access to New Haven.”

With the urgency of an alarm bell, an idea starts to take form in your mind. Rough around the edges but solid in shape. “I think I can help with that.” Again, seven pairs of eyes fall on you, all in varying states of disbelief. “I’m interning with him. At New Haven.”

Heeseung is the first to break the silence. “Like hell you are. Or did you forget that the last time he saw you, he shot you with poison?”

Sunghoon nods. “It does seem like a pretty bad idea.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head. “Think about it. He shot me with something that’s poisonous to vampires. And I think it’s because he saw Heeseung. If he really did… scent you, then he knew you were a vampire. I think… I think he might have been trying to protect me.”

The room is quiet for a moment, your inference settling into the air. It’s a long shot maybe, but it’s starting to come together. 

After a minute, Sunoo says tentatively, “She might be right.” No one else speaks up, but you see a few heads nod in agreement. 

Heeseung is quick to shut them down. “No way. No fucking way. Those are terrible odds, and I’m not betting on them. None of you should be either.”

But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense to you. Why else would your professor shoot you full of something poisonous to vampires? 

You try to think of the scene from his eyes. He walked in on you and Heeseung alone in a dark room. You were frightened out of your mind, and in the split second he had to analyze things, he could have misjudged the source of your fear. One vampire for another. 

So you double down. “I’m serious. This could be the in we need.”

“There is no we,” Heeseung shakes his head. “You’re not a part of this.”

His dismissal makes you bristle. If what Jungwon said is true, the attacks are only increasing, leaving more victims in their wake. And your professor may have unusual amounts of control, but he certainly wasn’t demonstrating that two nights ago. 

“So what, I’m supposed to go home, pretend that everything is normal, and just let people keep dying?” Your gaze meets Jungwon’s. “That’s what will happen, isn’t it? You said there were three more attacks just in the time I was unconscious. How many people have died now?”

Jungwon’s lips are tight. “Eleven.”

“Eleven people,” you echo. “If I go to Professor Kim and tell him—”

“You’re not going anywhere near that man,” Heeseung counters. “We’ll take care of it. It’s what we do.”

But his excuses are wearing thin in your mind, turning flimsy the more you consider them. “How? If he can identify you as vampires, then there’s no way you’ll ever get close enough to figure out how he might be connected to all of this.” You turn, addressing all seven of them. “I, on the other hand, have a draft written about the intrinsic evil of vampirism. I have a bite mark healing on my neck. If I go to him and say that I hate vampires too, that I was attacked by Heeseung, and his poison was the only thing that saved me, then I’ll earn his trust.”

Heeseung just scoffs, shaking his head. “Are the rest of you hearing this?”

Sunghoon opens his mouth hesitantly. “I mean… she kind of has a point.”

Heeseung glares. “Besides you.”

Sunoo frowns for a moment, parts his lips. 

Heeseung doesn’t let him get a word out. “Don’t even try it.” He turns to the others, something pleading in his gaze. “Jungwon, Jay, Niki, Jake, you have to see how insane this is. She’s a human.”

Your lips pull tight. “A human that’s standing right here.”

Jungwon maintains an even tone when he restates the simple fact, “If this professor truly can scent us, we don’t have any way of investigating him further. Not without using force.” He turns to look at you, gaze assessing. “Do you really think he’ll believe that you’re on his side?”

Do you? Maybe Heeseung is right. Maybe you’re betting on ludicrous odds, wasting the last of your luck on a game that was rigged from the beginning. But why inject you with a substance poisonous to vampires? Why publish all of those anti-vampire stories?

You match Jungwon’s eye. “I do.”

“Okay.” Jungwon nods, mulling it over in his mind. “Okay.”

Heeseung watches the exchange with heated eyes. “Absolutely not—”

“You’ve been overruled,” Jay interjects. 

“Six to one,” Niki agrees. Glancing at you, he amends, “Make that seven to one.”

Heeseung is still seeing red. “This isn’t a fucking group vote. We’re not deciding which coffee table to put in the living room. This is a life.” Turning to you, his voice softens, an edge of pleading in his tone. “This is your life.”

“Exactly.” You’re begging too, for a bit of understanding. “It’s my life. A week ago, it was completely consumed by winning an internship, getting my writing published. And now there are vampire attacks ravaging my city. The professor I wanted to impress so badly might just be one of them. Even if I walk away from here and vow to never go near New Haven again, my life won’t go back to what it was. I won’t be safe. So I’m going to do what I can to get back to the things that are important to me.” Eyes heating, you add, “So yes, I am a part of this now, whether you like it or not. And I have the marks on my neck to prove it.”

“Damn,” Sunghoon whistles lowly. “That was kind of beautiful.”

“You have a way with words,” Sunoo agrees. 

“Of course she does,” Jay nods. “Remember how frustrated Heeseung was a few months ago after she presented her analysis or whatever in class? He was so stressed he’d lose out on the internship bec—”

Heeseung’s glare could freeze hellfire. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“It’s late,” Jungwon interrupts, sensing the response that builds on Jay’s tongue. Pouring water over the flames before they can escalate into a full blown argument. Again, he addresses you. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.” He glances around the room, and you imagine he’s trying to see things from your perspective. “Or any one of us would be happy to take you back home, if that’s what you prefer.”

There are aspects of your apartment that appeal to you. Sleeping in your own bed comes to mind. As does getting some distance from all of this. From him. You’ve taken in far too much information in the span of a few hours, and the throbbing against your temple has yet to ease. 

But your apartment is also empty. Quiet, isolated. With recent events in mind, you’re not sure it would feel like such a safe haven. If you’re quite ready to be truly alone. 

Still, you’re tentative. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You’re not,” Jake shakes his head. “It’s been a long few days. I’m sure you could use some rest.”

“Hasn’t she been asleep for, like, two days straight?” Sunghoon whispers to Jay. 

The only thing he gets in response is an elbow to the ribs. 

Jungwon ignores them. “You’re not overstaying anything. You can go home when you’re ready.”

“Ugh,” Niki grumbles. “Does that mean Heeseung’s gonna try and hang out in my room again? Because—”

He falls silent when at least three matching glares turn in his direction. 

Suddenly sheepish, you offer, “I can sleep somewhere else.” Glancing at Heeseung, you add, “I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed again.” 

Heeseung just gives you a strange look. Niki bursts out laughing. 

“Damn,” Jay says. “Two hundred years really is a long time, I guess. Humans these days don’t remember anything about vampires.”

Cheeks heating with embarrassment, you realize your mistake. Of course. Not only are the boys in front of you blood-drinking immortal beings that have been alive since the early sixteenth century, but they also don’t sleep. 

Mollified, you feel the urge to defend yourself. “Why do you even have beds, then?”

This time, it’s Sunghoon that erupts in a fit of laughter. The other six avoid your gaze pointedly. 

You didn’t think it was possible, but once the realization sinks in, your cheeks heat even further. 

“Oh, cut the poor girl some slack,” Sunoo scolds. Turning to you, he’s kind when he explains, “We don’t sleep, but we do relax. An old force of habit, I suppose. It’s nice to just lay down sometimes.”

Jay can’t help himself. “Among other things, right Sunghoon?”

“Ignore them,” Jungwon advises. “Five hundred year old children.”

“Hey!” Sunghoon protests. “We’re not the ones that couldn’t handle a sex joke—”

Heeseung just sighs, a stray strand of hair falling over his eyes. For a moment, he looks like the boy you used to sit behind in class. Dreamy. Moody. Untouchable. So painfully out of reach that spite made you want to try anyway. 

He’s here now. Within your grasp. And when he looks at you, the quiet words he whispers are meant only for your ears. “I can walk you to my—er—your room, if you’re ready.”

You’re not ready. You don’t think you ever will be. But even a life spun on top of its head has a way of unfolding in predictable ways. Such is the nature of things, and so flows the progression of time. 

You don’t say anything, but you do nod. 

Trailing after him silently down the hallway you came from, you’re not sure if it feels more right to fall into step beside him or let him lead you. In the end, he makes the decision for you. Without breaking stride, Heeseung slows down until your shoulders are aligned, eyes facing forward. 

He doesn’t say anything as the two of you track a steady path to his bedroom. Mind leaden with the weight of the last five hundred years, you remain silent as well. Finally, you pass the common room again. 

He opens the door to his bedroom, steps to the side to let you walk in first. 

Unwittingly, your eyes land on the most conspicuous piece of furniture in the room. Your cheekbones are flaming again, and finding sleep in that bed suddenly feels like an arduous task. 

Heeseung follows your gaze. The golden glow of his skin remains the same, but his eyes flash with embarrassment. “You don't, uh…” He trails off. Even poets struggle with finding the right words at times. Finally, he settles on, “Not all of us live like Sunghoon.”

“He seems nice,” you say, desperate to draw your minds away from where they’ve wandered. 

“That’s one way of putting it.” But there’s affection in his voice when he says it. Brothers, you think. All of them. They seem like brothers. 

Heeseung’s eyes scan the expanse of his bedroom as if he’s looking at it for the first time. “There’s not much.” He seems almost apologetic for it. “But help yourself to whatever you like. The computer doesn’t have a password. And there’s books on the desk, too.”

“Thank you,” you tell him. And you mean it. He’s not someone you expected to be generous with their space, their belongings. Another aspect of him you had all wrong. 

“I’ll let you have some space then.” He pauses at the door. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if there's anything you need.”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

He hesitates a moment longer. You can see it in the curve of his lips, the arrangement of his features. There’s more he wants to say. Something else he wants to tell you. 

Instead, he closes the door behind him on his way out. Gently, so that it hardly makes a noise. 

His bed is comfortable when you lay down, even if your mind is still racing a million miles a minute. Distantly, you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat now. What he thinks of the way it picks up speed every time certain moments replay in your head. 

But despite yourself, despite him, despite everything, you manage to drift off after only a few long minutes. Tucked away in the corner of a strange home, the sleep that greets you is blissfully dreamless.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: WHEW. This is the most info-dumpy we'll be getting, so I hope this made for an enjoyable follow up to the first part regardless. The relationship between our two leads will really start to take off in the next part, as will the remaining aspects of the ~mystery~ now that (most of) the lore/backstory is covered. as always, I love to know what you're thinking!

[charlietheepicwriter7]

I'm obsessive over my Constantine Jr Au (which still needs a fic name for, I'm open to suggestions) because

this is a cranky danny. he's spent years fighting with no end in sight, with parents who he can't trust and his only companions never truly understanding what he's going through.

he vapes CBD for the pain he's constantly in. he drank alco/hol once to help him sleep, but his parents smelt it on his breath and, just like with their research, took that to believe EVERYTHING they'd ever suspected about danny to be true: that he drinks, he does dru/gs, he's in a gang. the only thing they've never suspected their son of--being a ghost--is the one thing he actually does.

then, right on the cusp of eighteen and freedom, he gets outed. AND transformed into a seven-year-old.

this is not a danny who is willing to play at being a child. and if anyone tries to, they're in for a foul time.

Danny was 17, transformed into a 7 year old and hides in Bludhaven, and is 8 when the police finally figure out that, hey, this weird kid who keeps altering us to crime scenes is usually right on the money about who the killer is, we should investigate that. Officer Grayson is on the case!

And discovers that he absolutely can't STAND this kid.

He thought he liked kids! Everyone thought he liked kids! but this kid...

This isn't called the Constantine Jr AU because Danny is a supernatural detective, or because Danny might be Constantine's kid. Its because Danny is an unrepentant little bas/tard and he makes it everyone's problem.

Danny vapes and blows bubblegum smoke in Grayson's face.

He takes out a flask and Grayson's grabs it, learning its full of orange juice. Danny then takes out a second flask, this one with vod/ka.

He wears a trenchcoat he found in the trash (the same trenchcoat Nightwing wears in DC vs Vampires, if you know you know) but the end and the sleeves are cut off for his hands and legs. the pockets are roughly around his knees.

Grayson is desperate to figure out more about this kid, but he doesn't go to batman because, time-line wise, this is right before red hood starts running around. Jason is dead/alive-in-hiding, Tim is Robin, and Dick is mad about it. (ages-- Bruce: ? Nightwing: 24 Jason: 19 Tim: 15 Danny: 8 Damien: 7-8)

he doesn't really bond with the kid until they're both kidnapped by a gang for hostages, and Danny's big kid emotions get a hold of him (he thought he could escape them bc he's an adult, he's gone through worse, but nope! child brain chemistry). Grayson is worried that he's hurt and in pain, but Danny confesses that he's always in pain. he has nerve damage all over his body, and the only thing he really trusts is CBD. He feels like shit for taking his juul away, but more importantly, because he's been treating Danny like a irritant and just a little kid.

they get rescued and Grayson tries to take him back to his home, but Danny reveals he's homeless, saying something like "I sleep where it suits me, just drop me off whereever."

Absolutely not, Grayson is taking kid back to his place for a bed, food, and a shower, in whatever order the kid wants.

Danny stays semi-perminantly at his apartment, but Nightwing tries not to push it, because this kid practically screams flight risk. unfortunately, the paparazzi have nothing better to do and snap a pick of Grayson and Danny getting dinner together, speculating that Dick's taken after Bruce

Danny doesn't care too much; I think his ghost form is the same, if glitchy, so his parents don't know about the deaging. Grayson is mildly panicking, but its not like he HASN'T been considering adopting the evil troglodyte. Even Bruce, Tim, and Alfred aren't the problem.

No, the problem is the Red Hood, a crime boss who just cut 8 people's heads off, seeing what looks like Nightwing pulling an innocent kid into the neverending fight against crime and Seeing Green.

Edit: Had to censor sh!t because ths wasn't showing up in the tags

[jaylver]

CASINO LOVE AFFAIR — P.JS

SYNOPSIS: Hunting supernatural beings is not your passion at all. But somehow, you were always inevitably tied to it. To make your grudge against it deeper, someone had to drag you along a bumpy ride. Who was it? The man that broke into your house in the middle of the night to convince you to join him to save his lost brother in Sin City, Vegas. Jay had one chance to save his brother, and another one chance to rekindle something that was lost between you and him. All in that one casino.

PAIRINGS: supernatural hunter!jay x supernatural hunter afab!reader

GENRE: frenemies (with benefits) to lovers, supernatural au, inspired by tv series "supernatural", jay is based off "dean winchester", romance, angst, action

WARNING(S): profanities, drinking, mentions of death/murder, violence, suggestive content (no smut), slightly possessive jay, demons, possessions

WC: 11k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: specially dedicated to my supernatural enthusiasts, especially to my dean girlies (gn) who loves jay! rest assured, there's going to be hoon ver (based off sammy) <3 i hope you'll love this one as much as i enjoyed writing it, please leave feedbacks!!

masterlist | © jaylver 2023

In this world, accidents and tragedies were recurring happenings, but what people didn't understand was the fact that neither were coincidences. You heard that right, it might sound insanely crazy, but the supernatural exists. 

There were two types of people on planet Earth. Ones that were blessed with obliviousness, unaware that the local murder case wasn't just a simple serial killer on the loose. Then, there's the ones that were rather cursed with the ability of hunting, knowing the real truths behind tragedies and solving said supernatural cases. They were known as hunters.

No, not the hunters that chase after deers with a gun, but rather chasing after demons, vampires and much more freaky stuff with more than just a single gun.

You were, unfortunately, part of the small percentage of hunters that were tasked to hunt supernatural beings and protect others. You never wanted this life, you despised it, the constant fear constantly followed. It was your father who dragged you into this, being a hunter himself, it was natural he had to train you to become one as well. 

You were an only child, so it was no surprise your father ended up dragging you along to hunts and let's say the amount of therapy wasn't enough to heal the traumas you've witnessed and experienced. Dread was the feeling you carried up until your 20s, tired of this life and craving the normal college life of an ordinary being, but then that was when everything changed. Your father was killed. 

You guessed it, freak accident with a vampire. Fantastic. Just to make things even more complicated, the infamous Park brothers turned up at your front door pretending to be police officers, doing their usual investigation, or rather identity fraud. What they didn't know was that you knew who they were, so they were eventually busted. You still accepted their help either way, finding the vampires and bringing your father to justice.

That all happened a few years ago, constantly staying in contact with the Park brothers while they travelled around hunting and you stayed home merrily, occasionally meeting if they were in town. Mostly, the best you could repay them was at least some help in information. You were glad to finally start afresh, getting a new job and shopping for new furniture. You thought this was it, time to settle down and put everything in the past.

But, you spoke too soon.

You were a light sleeper. From the years of your father's gruelling training, you learnt to listen for any weird noses during the night, and it surely did help. You could barely sleep, hearing odd creaks as your adrenaline increased, imagining the scenario where you had to reach for the iron knife under your bed. 

Creak. Creak. Creak.

The faint footstep got closer and louder, reaching your side of the bed, standing right beside you and stopped eventually. You sensed a figure, this wasn't good. Demon? Vampire? Your hand slowly travelled down to the spot of your knife, eyes shut tight and heart beating crazily. In the count of three, strike.

One … two … three—

"Woah, woah, woah, easy there tiger,"

Your hand reacted first, thrusting the knife forward without your eyes open, but once the voice travelled into your ears and your mind turned, you opened your eyes in an instant.

This was worse than a demon. 

"Jay?"

One of the Park brothers happened to be standing in the middle of your bedroom. At three in the morning. Were you going to question how he got in? Maybe later.

"Y/N," he saluted back at you, a noticeable grin on his face despite the darkness, but you remained impassive, a wary look on your face and your hold on the knife didn't relax.

“Hold on,” you said, scrambling out of bed, scepticism clear in your voice, your stance unchanged as you held tight onto the knife. “Are you really Jay?”

Jay tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. "You're seriously doubting me? Right now?"

"Hey, I'm a hunter, you're a hunter, we both know this is basic caution,"

"Alright," he threw his hands up, giving in. "Quiz me,"

"Where's my birthmark?"

"You're seriously asking this—?"

"You've forgotten it?" You stared accusingly at him, the knife in your hand was dangerously close to him and he was clearly aware of that too. "You're the only person who knows this," you narrowed your gaze.

"It's been ages since the last time we fucked—"

"Can you not bring that up?"

"Fine. On your back," he answered, his eyes flickering between you and the knife. 

"Where?"

"That specific?" He whined, but once he saw you were, in fact, not kidding, he cleared his throat. "Lower back, on the right, almost at the side. It's a small birthmark that is shaped like a heart,"

You blinked. Thankful it wasn't some creature disguised as him, but also churning in slight rage that he was here. Look, you and Jay had … some interesting history. No bad blood was caused from it, but it had affected your ties with him, which explained why he was the lesser favourite brother to you. He was never going to know that though.

Just for old times sake and also not seeing him for months, you threw the knife onto the bed, engulfing him into a hug. "Gods, you're alive,"

He chuckled, his hand rubbing your back. "Of course I am. Doubting my skills now?"

"Jay, you literally died and came back before," you pulled away, staring pointedly at him.

"That was the past, this is the present," he waved it off, coughing awkwardly and you rolled your eyes. You switched on your table lamp, taking a small bottle from your bedside drawer and handing it to him.

"What's this? Complimentary water for guests?" 

"Holy water, if you count that as complimentary,"

"You're kidding. I passed your quiz,"

"I'm trying to be sure there's no hidden demon inside your body, okay?" You raised the small bottle to eye level. "Drink up,"

"Fine," Jay gritted, snatching the bottle from your hand, chugging half of it down. No demon, thankfully. "See?"

"Just wanted to confirm," you tossed the bottle back into the drawer, turning to face him with a quizzical stare. "Now, are you going to tell me why you've broken into my house in the middle of the night?"

"Breaking in? Pft," 

"Jay," you said flatly, a stern look gazing back at him. "What are you doing here?"

Jay clenched his jaw, seemingly rethinking his words in his mind, calculatingly picking the right ones to make sure you wouldn't explode. "I need help,"

"No,"

"What?" He was taken aback by your bluntness. "You always helped us,"

"Busting into my house at 3 AM doesn't sound like your usual need for my help. You want me to do something more hands-on, don't you?"

Jay was silent. You got him there.

"Jay, I am always here for help. You do know I literally commit illegal things just to dig up information for you two right? But that's the most I'll do and the least I can do for you, I swore I wouldn't go back into hunting,"

"But this one's important,"

"You have Sunghoon to help you anyway,"

"He's gone," 

The next few sentences you had in mind died in your throat. The other Park brother was missing? There was no way this happened. They were skilled hunters, what went wrong?

Jay cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, noticing your obvious shock. "Look, that's why I'm here. Hoon's gone, poof, missing. One second he was at the motel and the next when I got back, he's gone. I should've never left,"

"Any ideas what it could've been?"

"No," he shook his head, frustration laced in the way he had his eyebrows furrowed. 

"How are we supposed to find him? Jay, I'm no sorcerer or a crossroad demon that can summon him up. I could be as equally lost as you are,"

He ran his hands through his hair, heaving a deep and heavy sigh. "I don't know either. I'm fucked, okay? I don't have anyone else to find but you, and there's no one that knows Hoon as much as I do but you,"

"How do I know I can trust you this time?" You mindlessly let the words slip out, referring to the incident that caused the slight crack between you two, its effect remained even after.

"I told you I'm sorry already, Y/N," he said softly, catching on your innuendo at once. 

It was the last time you went on an actual hunt with the Park brothers when it happened. Crazy monsters and demon ladies were nothing too big for you three, but the moment a human was involved, the hunt became vulnerable. 

A part of you wanted to save the innocent man even though he was long gone and already affected by the creature, turning wild gradually. Being the rash and impulsive person Jay was, he demanded to kill the man at once, Sunghoon trying to calm him down while you fought back. 

It was a stupid argument, you were emotional and he was aggressive, Sunghoon trying to be neutral and diffusing the tension, but failed. In the end, a cure was found but Jay had already killed the man. Even though you were able to save the others, a part of you continued to seethe with anger.

'Too emotional' was what Jay called you. Storming away was the only thing you could muster in that moment, and it took a few days before he showed up at your front door apologising with a bouquet of flowers. Were you fully satisfied? Not really. Did things change? Definitely.

As for now, you pondered thoughtfully. Despite your valiant efforts of escaping the supernatural part of your past, you knew it was imminent it would come back, just not like this. Sunghoon was a nice guy, he and his brother helped you and your family before, and some part of you wanted to do the same. You swore you didn't want to hunt with the Park brothers after that incident, and it seemed that you had no choice but to eat your words. You were going to regret your decision, you know so.

"Okay," it came out more of a whisper, which made Jay lean in closer, an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Okay, fine, I'll go with you to find Sunghoon. Don't make me go back on my word," 

"Right, right," Jay said rather excitedly, his eyes beaming. "Gods, how did I manage to get the Y/N L/N to hunt with me? I am a lucky man,"

"Don't test your luck," you took the iron knife from your bed and pointed it at him, earning a sleazy eye roll from the latter.

"You still have your gears with you?" He glanced around your room, not a single weapon in sight, only messy heaps of clothes.

"Duh," your hand reached for the bottom of your pillow, pulling out another blade, made purely from iron, perfect for killing supernatural beings. "When are we leaving?"

"Best before day break,"

"So … roadtrip?"

"You bet."

Begrudgingly, you shoved some clothes into a small carry on, packing guns, knives, blades, salt. Yes, salt, sodium. It might seem weird but salt literally saves lives, literally. An insignificant kitchen ingredient held a significant role by protecting people from spirits attack. Rock salts were used as ammunition as well to ward spirits off for a short time. Insane, right?

Jay helped you fit your bags into the trunk of his Chevrolet Impala, one that he has been driving almost forever. Among your bags, there were a shit ton of weapons, quite messily scattered around, some stuck on the trunk door. It was certainly a rich collection. 

“Hop in, dollface. Be my guest,”

You rolled your eyes as Jay opened the car door for you. He was still the same old Jay. Promiscuous, teasing, haughty, but you supposed that was the charming point of him. You remembered the insides of the car as clear as day when you got in, almost felt like it was just yesterday when you were in it.

“Where to?” you turned to look over at Jay who had just slammed the car door shut, his hands on the wheel, a cheshire grin pulled at his lips.

“Vegas,” he flashed you a toothy smirk, but you could only mirror his expression with an unamused one. 

“Sin city? You’re kidding. Why on earth are we heading there—God, Jay, don’t tell me you developed some gambling addiction—”

“No! For fuck’s sake,” Jay pulled the car to start, the headlights brightened the dark street at once. Well, goodbye to your home, you hoped you would make it back alive. “It was where Hoonie and I had our last hunt, the place he went missing, and funny thing, the hunt is incomplete,”

“So, you’re telling me you drove all the way to my house from Vegas in the middle of an unfinished hunt just because Sunghoon’s gone,”

“‘Just because’? Y/N, it’s life or death!”

“I’m not saying this isn’t important!” you bite back, sleep deprivation wasn’t helping your increased agitation. “Didn’t this happen before? One of you goes missing and the other solves the case and finds each other? What’s so big this time?”

“This did happen,” Jay sighed, the bags under his eyes obvious despite the darkness surrounding you, the tuned down rock music played faintly on the radio. “I went lost, got captured by some psycho killer, whatever, but it was traceable, it always was, but this time … something’s different and it’s definitely not only a psycho killer, it’s something stronger, darker,” 

“Jolly. A demon,” you wondered aloud, Jay humming in agreement. “Mind telling me what hunt you and Sunghoon were on in Vegas before his disappearance?”

“Saw on the news about deaths in a casino, so Hoon and I decided to check it out, and guess what we found? Sulphur,” demons tend to leave sulphur around, finding sulphur basically indicated a demon’s presence, pretty basic information.

“A demon on massacre duties in a casino? I feel like this one is out for money, something to do with his greed and desire,” you speculated, unsurprised as these were common occurrences.

"Likely," Jay clicked his fingers, his eyebrows bunched together, a scheming look on his face. "Here's the thing, we were somewhat on the road to uncovering some truths, on who the real demon was, but that's when this happened, it's no coincidence that he probably took Hoonie,"

"Which means you still don't know who's the mastermind in that casino right now? Or where Sunghoon could possibly be?"

"No," he answered bitterly, his fingers strumming the steering wheel softly. "And I think the jackass jumps into different bodies working there each time, it's hard to trace,"

"Are we going around splashing holy water? How are we supposed to know whose body is being possessed?"

"We don't," he said plainly, and matter-of-factly, turning his face just enough for you to catch him winking at you. "But we do know he's a higher up, a man with a position, or maybe positions,"

"Guess it's our lucky day testing our fortune on catching demons and winning at casinos,"

"Looks just like the movies," 

Upon entering the state of Nevada at nightfall, you were welcomed with the blistering nightlife of Las Vegas, the bright lights blinding your sights and you couldn't help but be fascinated.

"Where are we heading?"

"Towards the hotel the man was murdered in," Jay nodded at one of the big and tall hotels ahead. "There's a famous casino in that hotel, lots of people constantly betting, rich and powerful men are frequently present,"

"A perfect spot for a money hungry demon,"

"Bingo," 

Jay parked his beloved car and was rather sad leaving it behind in a shabby parking lot. You knew he loved his car, sometimes clingy and attached, but he loved it a little too much. 

Grabbing your bags and a seperate one full of weapons, you and Jay headed into the hotel and towards the reception, where a bright young woman named Carrie was smiling back at you both.

"You're not going to make me spray holy water at her, right?" You said quietly in hopes of the receptionist not hearing it.

"I'm not stopping you," Jay passed you an unamused half grin.

"Hello! How may I assist you?" Carrie greeted enthusiastically, but frankly, none of you could reciprocate the same energy.

"We'd like to book two rooms please," Jay slid the card towards Carrie, hoping to get this over with quickly.

"Just two?" She glanced between you and Jay, a question mark basically floating above her head. "We have a 'couples exclusive' promotion though,"

You and Jay shared a look, turning back to the receptionist. "Two, please,"

"There's free access to the facilities and the buffet," Carrie continued on. "Oh—uhm—there's a jacuzzi here too,"

Jay turned to you, you stared back, a knowing look passed between one another, releasing sighs of displeasure.

"We'll take it,"

It would be an understatement to just say the hotel was fancy, it was more than fancy. High ceilings, marble floors, chandeliers, everything was almost in gold. You were able to catch a slight glimpse of the casino as you passed, and indeed, it was packed with people. Boy, you were about to have a time trying to find out who's the real imposter.

"I definitely spotted some sulphur just now," Jay shook his head, his eyes scanning the floor, walls and surroundings. "I think this one has minions here,"

"Amazing," you clicked your tongue, impatiently stalking through the soundless corridor in search of your designated room. You were dying to dive into your hotel bed. 

"Do you think we have enough?" Jay eyed the bag of weapons as you two stood outside your room, but just before you could answer, a stranger appeared next to you two, holding a keycard to the room next to yours.

"Oh, I'm sure it's enough," the stranger, a middle aged lady, laughed.

You glanced at Jay, a cautionary sign was understood. "W–what do you mean?" Jay chuckled nervously.

"Condoms? That's what you meant, right?" The lady snickered, and you were absolutely dumbfounded. "Just keep it down kids, it's not entirely soundproof here and I need sleep. It's nice meeting you guys!"

The lady slammed the door behind her, leaving you and Jay standing there like statues, a little confusion and surprise in the air. 

"Condoms," you echoed, shuddering slightly.

Jay turned to look at you, a pensive look in his gaze, eyebrows raised slightly. "Do you … unless—?" 

"Zip it," you hoisted the bags, opened the door and stormed in while Jay remained standing there, a defensive look replacing his previous one.

"Hey, I didn't even say it," he shouted from the outside, taking his bags from the floor.

"I know what you're trying to say, thank you! Now get your ass in here before I shut you out,"

"Yes, ma'am," Jay scrambled in and shut the door close, soon noticing your figure looming over the bed and was curious. "What's up?"

"There's only one bed," you glanced down at the king size bed, a heart formed from rose petals decorated it and you found it highly ridiculous. "And they made it romantic, how sweet,"

"You're kidding me," Jay ran his hand across his tired face, a weary sigh leaving his lips. "I'll take the couch,"

You stopped him there. "Dude, you're going to be hunting demons, I'm not letting you get backaches from a lousy couch,"

"There's no way you're sleeping on it either,"

You bit your lips, maybe sleeping on the same bed for a few nights wouldn't hurt, right? It certainly wasn't your first time with Jay anyway, but business was business, and this was far from being professional.

"Let's just share the same bed," 

Jay stared doubtfully at you, as if he couldn't believe those words had come out of your mouth. "You're up for that?"

"Do you think we have any other choices?" You crossed your arms, mirroring his pointed gaze.

"Touche," he nodded thoughtfully, dropping his bags to a corner. "Just don't kick me in my sleep,"

"I'll be happy to kick you now instead."

"Stop staring!"

Despite being tired and worn out, you and Jay dragged yourselves out from the room in hopes of some food and checked out the hotel and casino. 

The inside of the casino was bright and painted in gold, red themed colours. It was extremely busy and crowded, many were yelling in surprise and joy, while there were those in despair over losing. Jay, on the other hand, was too busy staring at by-passing girls to focus on the real purpose.

"What?" He hissed defensively, winking at another server and you rolled your eyes at his never changing behaviour.

"You can enjoy whatever you want after everything, okay? Not to be a killjoy but there's a demon here that took your brother,"

"Hey! I'm aware,"

"Sure," you mumbled sarcastically, looking around the table and observing people's faces, but you knew none of these normal citizens were possessed.

"Do you think we can meet the host or manager tonight?" Jay made sure to whisper that quietly, glancing around warily.

"You think one of them would be possessed?"

"The chances are high. Hoon and I went over to the dead man's house the other day, the wife told us he was close to the host, something by the name Sam? Sam Clerk?"

"Looking for me?"

You've never turned around so quick, your hand instinctively reached into your pocket for the small bottle of holy water, but Jay's hand stopped you discreetly, giving you one of his 'I got this' look.

"You're Sam Clerk?" Jay laughed awkwardly, playing it cool and casual.

The man before you was tall and seemingly in his mid 30s, his smile was wide and welcomingly, but there was a malevolent energy emitted from him. "Why yes, that's me. And you two are …?"

"I'm … Jack Williams," 

Sam glanced at you expectantly, and if you could dig yourself a grave then from the embarrassment, hoy would've. You cleared your throat, "I'm Stacy … Williams, he's my husband,"

You felt Jay's gaze on you, burning into your skin, but you ignored him and looped your arm around his. 

"Oh!" Sam clapped in surprise, a pleasant smile spread across his face. "You two must be new here, right? I've never seen you before,"

"Right, we are," Jay patted your hand, plastering on his most convincing smile. "That was why we wanted to find you! We heard how great of a host you were and wanted an introduction,"

"I'm pleased, but I'm a little busy tonight, so I can't assist you unfortunately," a flash of change in his eyes was barely noticeable, but you caught onto it. "But there's a charity ball we're holding in two days, I would love to invite you both to attend,"

"We'd love to," you said almost immediately.

Sam chuckled, nodding in satisfaction. "Great. I'll see you … then."

Without another word, he left in a dash, moving almost like a shadow. You unknowingly let out a shaky breath, feeling goosebumps rise. "His energy was so off,"

"I know," Jay was thinking hard, his mind working extra hours. "So, it's him … but there's definitely another one which we don't know, there's no way this would be so easy, and we also need to know where Hoon is,"

"I think I have an idea," you held onto his forearm, pulling him on and continued your walk around the casino. "I did some digging on the history behind this hotel and the casino, and it goes way back,"

"How long?"

"Centuries. It was built on a cursed ground, but they didn't care, and guess what? There were deaths here over those years too, unexplained ones. Weird, huh? But that's not the point. There's some hidden underground chamber somewhere here, built by someone from the olden days, and it's said to harbour bad energy,"

"Attracts demons,"

"Perfect hideout,"

"But why Hoon?" Jay scratched his head, eyebrows furrowed and increasingly frustrated.

"I mean, you guys were hunting the demons and they caught on. Plus, timing was bad, you happened to be out,"

"True," Jay sighed. "We should ask that Sam guy more stuff during that charity ball, and we should start doing some digging tomorrow,"

"I'll use my flirting skills and wiggle information off him," you grinned, nudging his side teasingly.

"You should use it on me instead," he grumbled noisily.

"No chance," you smiled sarcastically at him, pulling him towards the bar. "Let's just enjoy tonight and drink a little, I definitely need some before diving into … everything,"

"Get ready to drink until you fall, L/N,"

"Challenge accepted, Park."

The night faded into a blur, you and Jay somehow wandered off without one another, but stayed within the vicinity. You were drinking alone at the bar, the alcohol seemed like water to you, your tolerance coming strong. 

Jay was off at the side, leaning against the wall as he openly flirts with a random blonde girl. Laughing suavely, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his charming looks sweeping the blonde off her feet. 

You shouldn't be feeling this way, but you would be lying if you said you were indifferent to him and the girl. It was no surprise you and him had history, even on the intimate level, but to have feelings for him? That was something new you slowly came about to realise.

Onto your new glass of gin, Jay slid into the empty seat next to you, looking far from drunk. You forgot Jay had an alcohol tolerance that challenged yours, making him an interesting drinking partner to have on most nights. 

"What happened to the girl?" 

"What girl?" He craned his neck to stare off at the distance before turning back to look at you, his face inching closer to yours. "Blondie? Nah," he shook his head, a playful grin appearing on his handsome face. "Can't believe I'm saying this but are you perhaps … jealous?"

"Me? Jealous? Don't be ridiculous," you pushed his face away, eliciting a humorous laugh from him. 

"I think you are," Jay said in a sing-song tone under his breath. "Rest assure, sweetheart, I never fucked anyone else ever since our last night together," he winked, taking his jacket hanging from the chair and offered you his hand, which you grudgingly accepted.

"Are you sure you're not lying to me? Park Jong Seong, the man who hunts demons and loves to fuck around hasn't been bringing girls back?" 

"Don't doubt me or my feelings here," he feigned a crying face dramatically to which you pulled a face at. “You’re seriously underestimating my feelings for you,” he said, a little seriously this time, raising his eyebrows at you before letting your hands go and leading the way back to the room, making sure to turn around to check up on you from time to time. 

You were tired by the time you’ve reached your room, changing out of your outfit into a much more comfortable one while Jay did the same in another room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that you slept next to a man, even if he was one you’ve shared a bed with once.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jay yawned as he got under the sheets, you followed suit, shifting around for a better position. Your’s and Jay’s back faced each other, a distance obvious between you two.

“Night, Jay,” you switched the lights off, the room was dark, but you were wide awake. The unfamiliar bed had you tossing and turning, but also making an effort not to bump into Jay while doing so. 

“We haven’t done this in a while,” Jay suddenly spoke into the darkness after barely ten minutes. 

You bit back a smile, wrapping your hands tighter around yourself. “Yeah, we haven’t,”

"If I have to be honest, I miss it," you couldn't see Jay's face, only picturing it as he continued on. "I miss waking up next to you,"

"Jay …" you trailed off, heart squeezing slightly. "You know we can't,"

"I know," he repeated, a beat passed. "But what if we can?"

"You said it was too dangerous, you didn't want it,"

"I didn't say I didn't want it," he was quick to retaliate. "I want it, you know I do, but this job, this life, your life, I'll be a walking supernatural attractor,"

A short moment of silence filled the space between you and him, you let out a sigh. "Whatever it is, I'm willing to drop it for you, whether it was years ago or now, I don't think my feelings have changed. But that’s for you to accept anyway,"

Jay didn’t say anything more, your tiredness eventually brought you to sleep, unaware that he was still wide awake, turning around to glance at the back of your head, head filled with thoughts of you. Jay knew that being a hunter was a dangerous job, which meant romantic relationships and commitment were two hard things to tackle, even harder than killing supernatural things. But you were different to him. A one night together somehow turned his stone heart soft. The Park Jong Seong was truthfully in love with you. You were the angel to the devil in his heart. What’s stopping him was everything around his life, his cold demeanour, his fears.

The night melted into snores and wild dreams, the sun was soon peeking out of the horizons and sunlight streamed into your room. You were awoken by your alarm blaring by the bedside, slamming it off and trying stretching your limbs, but as you said, you tried.

Jay's arm was wrapped around your waist tightly, his body pressed against your side as its weight leaned against yours. You haven't been this intimate with him for months, and it certainly sparked something in you.

"God, Jay, wake up," you tapped his arm, trying to yank it off you, but he only retaliated by hugging your body tighter and tugging you closer to him.

"5 minutes," was all he could mumble before continuing his snores.

You scoffed, giving in with no choice. Since Jay indirectly wanted a lazy morning in, you decided it was best to call room service instead. 

"Good morning, can I order some room service?" It was an awkward position with the phone against your ear, menu in your hands and a grown man's arm draped across your abdomen.

The women on the other line coughed uncomfortably. "Good morning, miss, but room service is currently unavailable. Something happened overnight …" she drifted off and your face scrunched into an expression of confusion.

"What … happened?"

"I don't know if I should be saying this—"

"I won't complain, I swear, I just want to know," you tried to be as convincing as you could, and somehow the women complied.

"A murder happened, in the casino, again," she breathed out, a pinch of disbelief in her tone. "I think it's cursed,"

Oh, you don't say.

"Is there anyone who's hurt?"

"Other than the murdered rich tycoon, no,"

Rich tycoon, as expected.

"Got it. Be safe,"

"You too."

You placed down the phone, shaking the man beside you who only let out gruff huffs of annoyance. "Hm?" 

"Don't 'hm' me, get your ass up. We've got trouble."

Dragging a five foot ten grown man out of the bed was definitely a struggle, but in the end, it worked. After spilling the information you got earlier, he seemed content with just a cup of coffee and stormed towards the crime scene at once.

As expected, the police had surrounded the area and curious bystanders were peeking in from left and right. You and Jay slipped into the crowd, making sure to scan the area as much as you could, and as expected, traces of sulphur. 

"Another one bites the dust, huh?" Jay hummed as you two roamed around the hotel aimlessly, unable to do much more but laying low since police officers were still around.

"Have you ever thought about there being more than one demon here?"

"Yeah, that guy we met with his demon minions, duh—"

"Forget about the minions, let's think about the powerful ones," you bite your lips thoughtfully. "Remember this hotel being built centuries ago?"

"Yeah?"

"Two brothers owned it. One was the head of everything while the other managed the casino mostly," you said, glancing around. "Ring a bell? I'm pretty sure the guy's just a vessel, they were the ones working here before they got possessed, the demon's in those bodies,"

"You're a genius," Jay gasped, coming to realisation as he pieced it one by one.

"Now, I think I also got a faint idea of the secret dungeon. Their office,"

"Any history lesson?"

"No, just a blind guess, but my sixth sense told me so and you know how trustable my sixth sense is,"

"It sure is," Jay nodded in agreement, proven by your skills in previous hunts. "Should we break into it?"

"Are you crazy? You're walking into hell," you knew it was no secret how impulsive he was, which explained why you were there in the first place. "I reckon we strike during the charity ball,"

"But how are we going to identify the other brother first?"

"Oh, speaking of the devil," you nodded over at the crime scene that was now a distance away. Two men appeared, one was Sam, and the other was someone you've never seen before, but strangely held a resemblance to Sam.

They possessed brothers? You're joking.

"That must be the man of the hour," Jay whistled, eyeing the two men conversing with the officers. The man was taller than Sam, older looking and had a similar friendly face to him that also seemed intimidating.

"They're leaving," the two brothers bid farewell to the officers, watching them leave before turning around and walking away themselves. Jay and his impulsiveness just had to strike again. "Let's follow them,"

"Huh?"

Before you fully register Jay's words, that fucker pulled you by the wrist and started sprinting off into the direction the demon brothers were heading. If you could sock Jay in the jaw at that moment, you would've.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" You hissed quiet enough to not blow your cover, following the brothers a short distance away as they headed towards their office.

"Trying not to, but shush, we need to hear what they're saying,"

The brother stopped just before the door to their office, you and Jay followed suit, your body almost crashing into him from the abrupt halt. Jay dragged you into a dingy closet packed with cleaning supplies, great, and there was barely any room to move, let alone take a step back, and thus you found yourself in a compromising position.

Jay glanced down at you, a smirk etched on his face. "Not our first time, huh—"

"One word and you're not making it out alive, now hush and listen," you glared at him, effectively shutting him up but failed at wiping off his smug smile.

From the other side of the door, you heard shuffling and the voice of Sam Clerck. "But John—"

Jay's eyes widened, and you knew what he meant, there was a name. 

"—the amount of killing is making this whole thing suspicious to the mortals,"

"It's annoying that you're calling me 'John'," the latter spat. 

"It's not my fault that's the name of the original bodies. Fine, Elijah, don't you think we should rest on the killings for the moment,"

"What? Elliot, here's no way we're doing that, look at the fortune we're making,"

"Mind you, we have a possible hunter captured in the office's dungeon, what are we doing with him? Oh, there's probably other hunters coming as well now that they've slowly caught onto us,"

"Brother, stop overthinking and fretting," Elijah, the presumed older brother, sighed. "We could use him as a sacrifice—"

You clamped a hand over Jay's mouth, knowing him too well that he would let out noises and maybe burst out the door, but there was no way you're letting him do either of those.

"Or just kill him. We've been treating him well with food, excluding the fact that there's no sunlight," 

"We'll see how it goes, underground or not, another killing is too risky," 

"Whatever,"

You heard the door click shut, the two brothers already entered their office. Jay licked your hand and you reacted at once, shooting him a disgusted expression and opening the door, a gush of fresh air filled your lungs and you're no longer pressed against Jay, hooray!

"You heard that? They're going to serve my brother up on a platter or just directly cook him into a meat skewer,"

You pushed Jay to move along, avoiding the risk of getting caught. "We know he's in the office now, and there's definitely a way to get him out, can you try being hopeful for once?"

"It's Hoon we're talking about, so no,"

"Look, Elijah and Elliot, they're the Vamson brothers,"

"Who?"

"They're the original owners of this hotel and they got executed from murder cases. Explains why they knew the dungeon and all,"

"What do we do now?"

"Not 'now', tomorrow," you grinned, a plan brewing in mind. "We're splitting them up,"

The day consisted of you and Jay running around as inconspicuous as you could manage. The plan was slowly forming over a glass of whiskey. Jay would be onto distracting 'Sam' while you get closer to 'John', getting him to bring you back to his office and free Sunghoon by locating the dungeon.

"Must you really flirt with him?" Jay grumbled as he sipped on his glass.

"Is it your turn to be jealous now?"

"Yeah," Jay nodded straightforwardly, catching you a little off guard. "Pains me seeing you flirt with someone other than me,"

You rolled your eyes, playing it off nonchalant and casual, but internally? Your heart was doing backflips. "It's not actual flirting anyway, you dramatic ass,"

He let out a small, humorous laugh. "I know," he hummed. "But I just don't like seeing others with my girl,"

"I don't belong to you, Jay," you raised your eyebrows, playing around with your glass, heartbeat gradually increasing.

"You've been mine since the day you let me touch you," he said almost so nonchalantly that it gave you a whiplash. His words were unexpected, and it certainly stirred something in you. 

"You're insane," you scoffed, completely hiding the fact that you were secretly blushing.

He simply shrugged. "Anyway, I'd like to catch some air outside, you coming?"

"Will you be smoking?"

"I quit that shit a while ago,"

You smiled at that. "Good. But nah, you can go on without me, but come back once you're done, I don't feel safe,"

"Obviously, I'm not leaving you alone," Jay carrassed your arm slightly, a small reassuring look present in his gaze. 

"Got your gun? Knife? Weapons—?"

"Chill, Y/N, I'm only going out for a while,"

"Knowing you, you're going to get into trouble,"

Jay winked, his usual playful grin on display. "You bet,"

To prove you absolutely right, he did.

Upon returning, you felt an odd shift in Jay's energy. As much as you were in denial, you knew your sixth sense was always, forever right, gut feelings never lie.

He started off normal, but then he got all … how could you put it? Sexy? Seducing? Sensual? Definitely not Park Jong Seong's normal way of seducing someone, knowing it very well especially since you were a victim to his seductions.

You played along, pretending stupid, and it gave you enough time to deduce that he was possessed. Demons that stormed the hotel got to him in the end and you had to be the one to clean the mess up? Unbelievable. 

Now, here you were, in his lap back in your hotel room, making out. You heard that right. 

His hands tugged your hair, yours wandered his body, lips moving passionately against one another, you had to remind yourself that this WASN'T him! 

You broke the kiss, heaving slightly as you reached for the small flask on your bedside table, a plan already in your mind. "Gosh, let me take a sip, want some?"

Jay—or demon Jay—nodded at the flask in your hand with some interest. "What's in there?"

"Whiskey, your favourite," you lied cunningly through your teeth.

"I'll have some," 

You passed it to Jay, watching his every move, from him taking the flask, holding it up to his lips, to downing the contents into his mouth, then a loud scream broke out from him.

"Holy water," you clicked your tongue. "And you're so not Jay," 

You threw yourself away from him, backing away from the bed. Jay turned to you sharply, piercingly glaring at you, his eyes turned fully black, leaving no whites. Oh yeah, hundred percent possessed. 

He tried charging at you, but he then hit an invisible barrier. No matter how much he lunged and punched, he was stuck, and never escaping.

"Devil's trap, whoops," it was a precaution you took, drawing a sigil trap under the bed that was designed specially to trap demons, and there was no way out unless the circle was broken. It was great luck you got the demon twisted around your finger to have him follow you into bed. "Now, what's your business? Why are you possessing him?"

"You don't want to continue doing what you're doing here," he seethed out.

"I've got someone to save,"

He cackled with a look of disdain. "You humans are so weak minded and hero wannabes. How about you save yourself and forget about the guy? You don't know who you're dealing with or what you're even doing,"

"Oh, I don't?" You pulled the bedside table's drawer open, your trusty notebook was tucked inside and you snatched it out, showing it gloriously. "Look at this!"

"A stupid little notebook? You're not scaring me,"

"Are you sure? What if I told you there were some verses in here? You know, those types of verses, the ones that can make you go away. What if I start reciting some verses?" You taunted, your innocent smile riled him further.

"Come on then," he poked, challenging you. 

"Seriously? I'm giving you choices and time before I send you back to hell. I'm really kind,"

Jay gulped, despite all that, he remained a confident front and a cocky look. "Your stupid chantings won't work on me,"

"A low level demon like you telling me what I know and don't know? Please, save some talk and let me show you what I'm best at," you flipped open your notebook, following the usual ritual and started the latin incantations.

Jay stirred, yelling out and his body shuddered. As your chantings got louder and more aggressive, the demon from within seemed to be fighting to escape. Finally, with one last verse, Jay's mouth opened and a flight of black smoke escaped from within and dissolved back to, hopefully, hell.

"Fuck," you ran towards the bed as you saw his body going limp, getting there just in time for his body to fall into your arms heavily. "I got you, Jay, you're okay,"

"Huh?" His eyes were half opened, looking worse than a drunk. 

"Get some rest, we'll talk about this tomorrow. You need it."

"I got possessed, then we made out, and you exorcised me?"

"That was about it,"

It was the next morning, room service thankfully available now and you were having breakfast in bed with Jay as you poured over the happenings of the crazy night. Of course, Jay was having difficulties swallowing his food as he had zero recollections whatsoever, blacking out the moment the demon entered his body. 

"So … we made out?"

"Seriously? Is that the important part to you?"

"We never did for months and the demon got to do it with you? This is trippy and I'm salty," he huffed, chewing on his sunny side egg sadly. "Anyway, did the demon say anything?"

"Right, he did. Something about how we shouldn't be doing what we're doing now, like a warning I think,"

"Eh, typical demon bullshit, they always get into your minds and spit some mind boggling ass words to get you all worked up. It's nothing,"

You were unconvinced, crossing your arms nervously. "You don't actually think there's something wrong, right? Something bigger than we think?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he shrugged, uncertainty lingered in his words. "Either way, we have bigger problems. Tonight, the charity ball, saving Hoonie,"

"You're right."

Running around the streets looking for some gown to buy was harder than expected. Buying it rather than renting was a stupid choice, a dumb and expensive one. But what could you do? You're probably going to rip it up anyway. Not in that manner.

The day was soon coming to an end. Earlier on, the two of you made sure to have your bags packed and ready, dumping them into the car in advance. God knows what's happening after the event, all you knew was that you're probably not stepping foot back into the hotel room again.

"Are you done?" Jay shouted from the other room as you finished some final touch ups.

"Can you wait for a second? Jeez!"

You burst open the door, meeting Jay's gaze at once. He was dressed handsomely in a suit, a plain black suit that hugged his muscles and body in a perfect way as if it was tailored for him.

As for you, you were in a simple floor length black gown, one with two surprises: an open back and a thigh slit. You weren't a big fan but it is what it is. It was likely made out of some cheap silk and half assed production, but this happened to be your only option. 

"Fucking hell," he whistled under his breath, his eyes swept your figure from top to bottom and back to the top again to lock his gaze with yours. "Wow. You look amazing, more than amazing actually,"

He took a step, and another, until he was directly in front of you, face to face. "Is it okay if I touch you?" He whispered under his breath, something flashing in those brown irises. 

"Yeah,"

His hand slithered around your waist, tugging you forward into his chest, eyes widened as it caught you by surprise. Being this close to him had you thinking of yesterday. Despite the fact that he was possessed, it was physically still him, meaning you did kiss him, and God, he missed him and his lips.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Yesterday,"

"That demon got you hooked?"

"You're annoying. I mean, kissing you," you faltered towards the end, gradually getting flustered. 

"Would you like to recreate that?" Jay jokingly leaned in and you pushed his face away, laughing slightly.

"We don't have the time to, idiot,"

Jay shook his head, a small smile adorned his pretty features. "After all this … maybe we should talk it out. About us. Just you and I,"

"Definitely," you nodded, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "We should leave too, it's time," 

"You're right," he sighed, obvious disappointment in his voice as he glanced down at his wristwatch. "Let's go," he slowly let his hold of you go, but his hand remained around your waist as you two walked side by side.

That cheeky bastard's hands gradually travelled lower and lower as you walked, teasing you until it reached your lower back. Your head snapped over to give him a questioning glance, to which he reciprocated with a shrug.

"Hands up—" you moved his hands from your lower back back to your waist, eyes glaring at him, "—here,"

"You weren't complaining the last time we fucked,"

"Over a year back,"

"What do you say we relive that tonight, huh?"

"You're such a sleazebag. Oh, manwhore, and what else?"

"Dickhead, handsome jerk," 

"Okay, whatever you say, dickhead handsome jerk," you snickered sarcastically before dragging him towards the main area, making sure to not trip over your gown. 

The hotel was bustling with guests from all over the world, being the busiest it has been as staff ran around frantically. The night has yet to begin and people were already gambling their minds off while drinking expensive champagne served by frantic servers. 

You looked around, noticing Sam, or Elliot in actuality, conversing with someone, his brother was nowhere in sight … yet. 

"Distract him, okay?" You whispered hastily into Jay's ears as you saw the man waving over at you two, possibly coming over once he's done with the guy he's talking to. "I'll try to be within hindsight, but listen to me, if I'm not back by the two hour mark, you come to the office and find me. You have the gun, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Good. I'm going to try and get Sunghoon out, but I've only got so much,"

"I'll be there, okay? I won't leave you,"

You nodded at his words, feeling his hand squeeze your arm tightly. The anxiety was pushing past its limits and you were praying everything to run your way. The moment Sam moved over to you and Jay, you exchanged friendly greetings and pretended to be interested in whatever he's trying to yap about. As he did so, Jay slowly whisked him away, luring him for a talk over some drinks. One thing Jay's excellent at was talking, and you sure hoped his charms were enough to keep the little brother at bay.

After some more digging, you found out John, aka Elijah, mostly hung around the bar area and observed his customers. Interesting man. Lo and behold, the theories were right and he was actually there, all alone, an easy target.

"Not here to gamble?" You slid by his side casually, sitting in an empty seat just a fraction of a distance in between.

"I like to sit and observe a little," he hummed, taking a sip out of his glass. "And you are?"

"Stacy Williams,"

"I'm John Clerk,"

Ironic that you two were actually lying about yourselves to each other. 

"Owner of this place I believe?"

"It's true," he raised his glass up, quirking his eyebrows.

"Beautiful casino and hotel, by the way," you said sweetly, putting on your most convincing smile.

"Thank you," he bowed his head slightly. Not much of a conversationalist, huh? Maybe this was your time to strike. 

"Mr Clerk, I'm sorry but is there any way I can get a short rest around here? I'm feeling a little light headed and I just wish to lie down for a while,"

The man before you remained stoic, but you could tell he was internally scrambling for ideas in his mind, and you certainly didn't miss the way he gulped. To add extra pressure onto him, you started staring at him expectantly.

"Well—uhm—there's a sofa in my office," he suggested, though reluctantly.

"That'll be great if you don't mind, I'm sorry for the trouble,"

"No worries, Miss Williams," he assured. "I'll lead you there," he got off his seat and slowly took the lead, you following behind. As you gradually made your out of the vicinity, you spotted Jay, giving him a small nod before disappearing from his sight entirely.

He took the same path you and Jay had done during the time you two snuck around the demon brothers office, except this time, you would be entering into the office.

"Here you go, the sofa's all yours," he opened the door for you, leading you into his large office and pointed at the black coloured sofa in the corner. For a murderous, plotting demon, you didn't expect him or his interior to be so simple and minimal. "Would you like anything else?"

"A drink, maybe water or something refreshing will do,"

He nodded before closing the door shut, and you could tell he was worried about leaving you alone. Not because it's dangerous for you to be by yourself, but instead, he's paranoid about his typical demon doings and that dungeon.

Speaking of the dungeon, you had no idea where it was. Upon arriving, you checked for surveillance cameras, there were none thankfully, as for the dungeon you noticed nothing, even after squinting and looking around the room for some dodgy button. What a cunning demon! Time was ticking and you were racing against time.

"Wait…" you read about some theories about the whereabouts of the entrance to the dungeon, so now, you finally had the chance to test it out.

Locking the door and making up a quick lie was easy. But searching for some clues around the room wasn't. It got to a frustrating point of testing out the stupid theories where you ended up failing. There was one more for the test: the bookshelves.

Stories mentioned John being a complete book nerd, his belongings would be chucked in between books and somewhere behind the shelves, it would totally make sense the bookshelves in his office to have some hidden functions. You tried pushing it, punching it, but it wouldn't budge.

Sighing in almost defeat, you found yourself eyeing the books instead, judging the titles and spotting an odd one, reaching out for a grab. That was when everything changed. A small pull had triggered the book shelf to raise itself off of the ground and into the wall, revealing stairs going underground. Bingo.

You defied the laws of horror movies by going down the dark stairway, quietly calling out for any signs of life. Once you descended the remaining steps, you were met with dimly lit torches, chains hanging on the wall. This did look very anciently built, replicating those tacky dungeons in movies.

It was a large underground cave, so it wasn't hard to spot Sunghoon sitting in one corner, his hand chained to the wall and he himself had dozed off. 

You made your way there, your heels clicking against the hard floor but Sunghoon never woke from it. You kneeled beside him, noticing the fatigue in his expressions, looking overly worn out, attire soiled and seemingly hurt.

"Sunghoon!" You hissed, shaking him awake. There's no way you're attempting to carry him out while he's unconscious.

"Huh—what—who—" he slowly blinked, startled at the unfamiliar voice. His gaze was on you, his eyes blinking rapidly to rid of the haziness, then he finally registered that it was you talking. "Wait—Y/N?"

"You got that right. Is there a key around here?" 

"What are you doing here?"

"We have no time for that! Is there a key or not?" You hissed, trying to strain your ears in order to determine if he's returned or not. Hopefully the guests were keeping him busy in the meantime.

"There is, it's somewhere in the small cupboard there," he nodded over at said cupboard that you hadn't noticed. 

Say less, you practically jumped to your feet and bolted over to the small cupboard, pulled it open and the key was there. Tada! It was foolish that it was out in the open like that, but considering the fact they probably didn't expect anyone else to come down here, it was pretty valid.

Being the more thorough person you were, you checked the remaining drawers in case of any dangerous objects. Instead, you found some weapons here and there, so you tossed some over to Sunghoon before unlocking his chain. He winced the moment his wrist found freedom, rubbing it sorely. But there's not enough time, you need him out.

"Park, listen close to me," you tucked some of the knives into the garter belt around your thigh, handing Sunghoon one of the guns found in the drawer. "Your brother is here—"

"Jay?"

"Yes, now hush and actually listen, alright? The demon that captured you is coming back soon, and you're escaping before he does,"

"What about you?"

"I'll hold out as long as I can. Once you find Jay, tell him to come 'fetch' me or whatever excuse he could form. If shit goes sour, I don't think I can handle him alone,"

Sunghoon nodded as he took your words in carefully. There was limited time left, you needed to get out of the dungeon and shut it. 

You helped Sunghoon up and had him lean his weight into you as you guided him up the stairs. To say you were struggling and having breathing difficulties was an understatement. He better treat you to some good food for saving his ass after this.

He fell onto the sofa you were resting on earlier as you scrambled to shut the entrance by pushing the book back in. The entrance to the dungeon closed to a shut, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Now that you got Sunghoon out, there's bigger problems to face. 

"Are you able to walk?"

Sunghoon grunted, stretching and massaging his legs. "I can … I think,"

"You think?" His words weren't completely reassuring. 

"I'll manage," he gritted out, but his gaze softened. "I'm only worried about you,"

"You don't think I can handle him?"

"No, not that. You're an amazing hunter, of course, but this guy—demon—he's not some low ranking one. Not some simple exorcism can cast him back to hell,"

"I know, that's why Jay's got the gun,"

"He brought the colt along?"

The colt wasn't just a normal revolver, it was the supernatural revolver. Built to kill everything and anything. No supernatural beings were able to escape the wrath of the bullet. Who else better to use it on than some powerful demons?

"He's crazy," Sunghoon breathed out after you nodded as a response to his question. 

"He's just being careful. Plus, we do need it now anyway,"  

Sunghoon blinked, leaning back a little with an odd expression, his eyebrows furrowed. "Oh wow, did you guys…?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you have this look and I figured something … sparked between you and him again,"

You pressed your lips into a flat line, blinking wordlessly at him. Even he could tell you and Jay were having something?

"Let's talk about this later," you patted his shoulder, nodding towards the door. "You should definitely leave now,"

Knock knock.

"Miss Williams? Are you alright? Why is the door locked?"

You met Sunghoon's gaze, and the one thing you've managed to understand in his stare was 'we're fucked'. 

"I'm—I'm not doing well," 

"What's happened? Let me in,"

"No!" You bursted out, which sounded worse than expected. "I mean, no, I got m–my period, and I'm embarrassed to come out,"

"Oh," the man on the other side of the door seemed shocked to say the least. "I'll go get you some pads, Miss Williams,"

"Thank you,"

Pressing your ears onto the door, you heard his footsteps getting further away, finally able to let out the breath you've been holding in for too long. You turned to Sunghoon, grabbing his arm.

"You know, for a demon, he's actually quite a gentleman,"

"Keeping me in his stupid dusty dungeon surely isn't a gentleman's move," he said bitterly as he got up, limping slightly. "You'll be okay, right?"

"No promises,"

"I'll be quick, I'm going to get Jay here. You saved my ass, I'm making sure I save yours," he placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly.

"I trust you," you patted his hand. "Now, go,"

Sunghoon nodded, though quite reluctantly leaving as he didn't wish to have you all alone in a demon's threshold. You exchanged a brief look with him before he slipped out of the door completely, and you prayed he made it out successfully without any complications in between.

Minutes later, you heard knocks on the door once again, which meant John was back. Bracing yourself, you turned the door open, revealing him and some pads in his hands. "Here,"

"Thanks, I'll—uh—go to the restroom,"

"You're not actually on your period, are you?" His words cut like knives, sharp and certain.

"Are you doubting my knowledge of my own body?" 

"No, I'm not," he said flatly, shutting the door behind him and stepping closer. "One thing I know for sure is that you're not welcomed here … hunter," in one blink, his eyes turned black entirely, just like the time Jay was possessed.

"I'm only here for a shortstop, nothing else … Elijah," you kept your cool on the outside, but internally? You were fighting the horrors. He seemed surprised that you mentioned his actual name, but that didn't bother him.

"Oh yeah? Tell your buddies to stop coming after me,"

"How about you stop killing people?" 

Your retaliation didn't help your case as it only agitated him. With a  swift move of a hand, he had you pushed to the bookshelves, pinning you on there with an invisible force. No matter how you tried resisting it, you couldn't break free from the forceful hold.

"You won't understand. You humans don't," he seethed out, getting closer and closer. "You would be a great sacrifice as well,"

"Fuck you,"

Wrong choices of words. A force was wrapped around your throat and in the next second, it was constricting. Dying from getting choked by a demon wasn't on your list of dumb ways to die.

You swore you were seeing the lights of the afterlife until something intervened. Gunshots sounded suddenly, loud and clear and almost everywhere, a mix of shouts rang through. Chaos was happening. 

John, or Elijah, heard the commotion outside and was taken off guard from it, his hold loosening and you were able to breathe just a little bit more. His head turned back to you, then to the door, seemingly conflicted at the two troubles on hand. 

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "For fuck's sake," he released his hold on you, resulting in you dropping to the ground in coughing fits. You take it back about him being a gentleman. "You're so dead when I come back,"

You could only glare at him and his figure as he exited through the door, but then you heard the sound of a click. No, no, no. You rushed to the door, trying to yank it open, but to your worst fears, he actually locked the door.

Jay was coming to find you, right? Doubts continuously fill your mind against your will. It pained you knowing you're stuck here all helpless, unaware whether Jay and Sunghoon were doing well or not. You could only hope for the best and not the worst.

What seemed like forever was you being trapped in this office. The books on the shelves didn't entertain you, the pictures of the actual Sam only made you sad knowing his body was being possessed by a demon. All in all, you were rotting in here. 

That was until you heard grunts and some gunshots not far away, heavy footsteps thudding down the corridor. Shouts rang through the empty and quiet surroundings, your heart thrashing wildly against your chest in anxiety. There was no mistake in what you heard next. It was your name, your name was yelled.

"Y/N!" Jay's voice was hoarse as he called for you over and over. 

"Jay?" You pounded on the door, shaking the doorknob that wouldn't budge. 

The footsteps got closer and his voice got nearer until he was eventually standing directly on the other side of the door. "Y/N? Are you there?"

"I am," you nearly sobbed, wanting to break free and escape the office. "Jay, the door's locked,"

"You've got to be kidding me. I killed that fucker and never asked for the keys," Jay pounded at the door in irritation. "Y/N, step away, I'm going to break this fucking door down," 

You got away from the door, backing away to your previous spot at the bookshelves and crouching down. After a split second, you heard a gunshot, the doorknob rattled and loosened, but that didn't take the cake. Jay grunted, having to go for busting down the door instead.

A few kicks to the door had loosened the handles, you could hear Jay putting his whole effort into busting down the door with his kicks and the way he threw his body to the door. It was almost a while before he finally knocked the door down completely, revealing a overly worn out Jay. 

He was injured, cuts on his face, arm bleeding and his fancy suit torn at some places. Despite all that, his eyes lit up the moment they landed on your figure crouched by the bookshelves. He rushed over with speed that resembled the Flash, immediately dropping down to his knees to match your position.

"Are you alright? You're not hurt right?" His hands were on your shoulder, turning you slightly to check for any visible changes. 

You didn't say anything yet, just feeling glad that he's here now, safe and sound. Almost instinctively, your arms reached out and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly.

"I got you, I'm here now, nothing's going to hurt you," Jay caressed the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss on your temple. 

"I'm glad you're fine too," you slowly pulled away after a few moments, your hands cupping his cheek. "You do look really busted though,"

He scoffed, lips gradually stretched into a grin. "You'll be the one patching me up later,"

"What happened out there?"

"I killed them," he said hoarsely, his touch never leaving yours. "Little brother Elliot attacked me first after he revealed himself, then everyone ran away. I took my chance and blasted him. Sunghoon showed up not long after and that's when Elijah appeared. We managed to kill him, sent their souls back to hell,"

"That's great," 

"Did he … do anything out of line?"

"Other than choking me and saying he'll kill me? Not really," 

"He's a fucking bastard," Jay cursed, wincing slightly from the cut on his lips.

"Should we leave? The police is arriving soon, no?" You slowly got up, supporting Jay as well.

"We really should. I don't need the police on my ass again,"

"Hey guys—" Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, sweating and heaving, but once he saw the two of you together, hands around each other, his face morphed into a teasing smirk. "Am I interupting?"

You and Jay simultaneously let out a cough, facing away from one another.

"Are the polices on their way?"

"They are," Sunghoon replied hastily, ushering you two to come forward and leave the office. "I've cleaned our traces as much as I could. Now, we should just leave while people are hiding,"

"Did the bodies make it? The original Sam and John," you asked.

"No," the Park brothers answered in unison, and the three of you continued your way to the carpark in silence. It was saddening to hear that the bodies of Sam and John didn't make it, the dull atmosphere ended up befalling between you all.

"So," Jay started once you were all in the car, revving his car to a start. "Want some celebratory burgers along the way?"

"Say less."

"Ouch,"

After a long gruelling trip back to your house, Sunghoon ended up passing out in the guest room's bed, leaving you and Jay alone in the middle of your living room, where you were cleaning his injury wounds.

"I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," Your eyes flickered, wrapping his arm up and cleaning some tiny wounds. "Are you leaving after this? Go on your journey wherever supernatural cases appear like always?"

"I am," Jay said, and somewhere internally, you felt your soul crush. "But I'm staying a little longer here," 

"What?" Your mouth almost fell to the ground from the shock, unintentionally applying more pressure to the wound which made Jay wince, and you uttered a small apology, an unknowing smile forming on your lips. "You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be? You know how I said I wanted to have a talk after we got back, so here we are. I know our job is … complicated, but my feelings for you never changed over the years. It just took me a shit long time to come to my senses," Jay took a breath in. 

"I know I've hurt you before, and I'm going to have to gain your trust back first. But I hope you'll give me a chance, and let me bring you out on a date or two over these few days,"

"You're giving 'us' a shot?"

"I am,"

You were giddy to say the least, resisting the urge to break into the biggest, lovesick smile. "I'd really love to go out on that date with you,"

"Really?" Jay seemed like he couldn't believe you actually would agree, the evident shock in his face made you laugh.

"Yes, really, you idiot. Are you going to kiss me or something now?"

"I definitely am,"

Jay's calloused fingers wrapped around your chin softly, pulling you in and crashed his lips against yours. It wasn't your first time kissing him, but this was different. Desperation, endless pining that was bottled over the years finally burst and welled over, his lips moved against yours with so much fever and intensity, it had you going insane.

Jay pulled you into his lap, your arms falling over his shoulders for support while his hand travelled from your neck to your cheek before making its way into your hair. You could feel him smirking against your lips, his other hand moving down to your waist to tug you closer to his chest, having you totally pressed up against him.

"J–Jay," before he could take it to another level, you registered that it was your living room, and Sunghoon was in the house as well, which meant the possibility of him walking in was there. "Should we move it into … the room instead?"

Jay knew what you meant, his gaze changing almost instantly, something told you that you were in for it tonight. "Oh you're nasty," he suddenly carried you in bridal style, making you yelp out in surprise and scrambling for support.

The night was going to be long, but it didn't matter anymore now that you've got to have him for a few days and nights all to yourself. Killing supernatural beings was a headache, an ill fated string tied to you, but in the end, you couldn't deny it had brought you and Jay together again. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise after all.

taglist: @aerxz @asyleums @dimplewonie @yizhoutv

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Six

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Smidge of angst, but nothing really heavy tbh

Notes: This chapter is light, buuuut I promise I’ll make it up to y’all in the next chapter👀 Mother Emmett to the rescue😌

Word Count: 1215

Series Masterlist

• March 27th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Jasper

I skipped seventh period just like I skipped lunch, it hasn’t even been a week of space from her and I know I’d crumble under her gaze, her proximity. Whatever modicum of control I maintain is not enough to resist simply gravitating towards her.

Standing at my brother’s Jeep, I watch as my siblings exit the main school building along with the rest of our classmates. Why stay? Why not just run home once I decided to skip the class we share?

I have to see her, just a glance. Her scent has drifted around this fucking building all day and I’m a weak man.

Emmett, Rosalie, Alice, and I hang around our vehicles as Edward walks Isabella, my supernatural ability straining to feel any sliver of her emotions.

C’mon darlin’, I just need to lay my eyes on you for a few seconds.

Last year I would’ve written this desperation off as insanity, but she’s taken over my life and I’m tired of fighting it. I’m ready to give in, but she has to come to me on her own.

Finally, she’s walking at a fast clip, straight for her car across the parking lot with her eyes cast down and unfortunately we are not anywhere near that path.

Confusion, uncertainty, and a small inkling of sadness straightens my spine from where I was leaning against Emmett’s vehicle. A hand on my shoulder stops the half-step I take in her direction and I wheel on the person it’s attached to-

“Stay.” Emmett leaves no room for negotiation as he tosses Alice his keys and walks with a purpose in Y/n’s direction.

Frustration and possessiveness cloud my head, but I watch my girl with rapt attention.

My brother meets her passenger side door as she reaches her driver’s side door, both sliding into their respective seats at the same without a single word exchanged. She hesitates for only a second before cranking the vehicle and driving away. I don’t have to reach out to know there’s tension rolling off of her, it’s in the set of her beautiful mouth and the crinkle of her brow as she passes us on the way out of the parking lot.

Thankfully the parking lot is empty by this point, I’m not sure I could be brought to give a damn as I disappear into the woods to relieve this ache in my chest.

Reader

By the time I reach my house, I’m fuming. Why? I have no fucking idea, but Emmett hasn’t said a word the entire ride home. Maybe I’m on edge because Jasper was at school all day, but managed to avoid every single interaction he could possibly have with me.

I cut the engine and lean back in my seat, staring at the front door as the tension comes to a head.

“You got something to say-”

“Do you?” I turn and cut him off, unable to keep the sass from my tone.

His chuckle grates my nerves, “You’ve been ready to blow up all day, I’m here because I can take it. Talk to me.” The smile is gone in an instant with the last three words and it takes the wind out of my sails.

“I want him, but how do I know it won’t end the same? Nothing has changed-”

“Everything has changed, don’t you get that?” He angles his upper body to stare at me incredulously. “You’re his singer-”

“What if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t anything special, Emmett? What if I was a normal girl?” The insecurities start to flow and I’m powerless to stop them.

“That only makes your blood irresistible to him,” he shakes his head and settles back into the seat again, “this is a conversation to have with him, Y/n. But just know that wouldn’t change anything.”

“You seem very sure of that, for someone who is not your brother.” My voice is small as rain droplets begin to splatter the windshield in a slow, mismatched pattern.

“He’s been with us for almost 60 years and I’ve never seen him like this, with anyone. You are the one and only exception, Jasper doesn’t let people in like he’s done with you.” Emmett’s golden eyes meet mine and they shine with sincerity, “This situation with you, it’s untreaded territory. Cut him some slack and hear him out, okay?”

“Did he send you to butter me up? Because it’s working.” I fidget with the peeling cuticle on my thumb, the light rain the only ambient sound.

“No, I just know my best friend needed me.”

Reader

I spent all weekend with Quil and it was much needed in order to get back to feeling somewhat normal. Hanging out with him silenced my near-constant thoughts of Jasper and I haven’t had a reprieve from those since the day I met him.

This weekend I realized, I don’t want to do this without him. I can’t do this without him, he’s too well ingrained. I’m his singer, his mate and he’s… he’s the center of my universe, the rhythm that pulses in my veins.

I won’t lie, I know our future is complicated - given our differing mortality, but if I want him, I have to accept that part of him. The dangerous part of him, the side that is driven to kill me on instinct, the side that can’t give me a future beyond a frozen one. I have to love the not-so-glamorous parts of this man too, because love doesn’t get to pick and choose what’s convenient or even comfortable.

Talking to Emmett also made me realize that that doesn’t scare me like it used to. I’ve been to hell - I know what it’s like without him, I know what it’s like to be empty, to lay my heart bare and be left hanging because I wasn’t actually ready to understand him, I was just scared to lose him. Six months ago I wasn’t ready for the ugly side of what it means to be with a vampire, I was naive to think I could ignore it. To think that I could play it safe - that as long as I didn’t put a label on what was transpiring between us, we could stay in this limbo where nothing bad could go wrong.

But then the worst happened and we didn’t have a single chance in hell to survive the aftermath.

I have to talk to him. He has to know how I feel, what I want, what I need. That I need him.

• March 27th, 2006 • Cullen Residence •

Jasper

“Dude, you gotta talk to her.”

Looking up from my most recent sketch, I spy a slightly damp Emmett leaning inside my bedroom door.

“She needs space to figure out-”

“You’ve given her space, times up. Get your girl already.” Slapping the door frame lightly to emphasize his point, he continues down the hallway to his room.

Sliding my sketchbook away on my desk and leaning back in my chair, I huff a breath and stare at the ceiling. Has a week been long enough? I don’t want to rush her in to anything before she’s ready, lord knows I couldn’t handle her rejection if she’s not.

Next

Teaser

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[raisedbythetv89]

excuse the ranting here but just had someone try and argue that a fully evil literally on the hunt for the Slayer (bc he’s stalking his PREY to fight and hopefully kill) Spike - finding Buffy attractive (according to an interview James gave where he talks about that moment and said he embodied the kinds of predatory men who literally are “on the hunt” for real life women in bars) as anywhere NEAR the same level of creepiness as a SOULFUL aka SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD angel stalking and falling in love at the sight of an innocent and crying 15 year old Buffy….

Anti spike/spuffy ppl always try and use that interview to make Spike out to be “just as creepy” as Angel which is always just so embarrassing to me that they don’t grasp the basic difference between one was the most evil and literally is a predator to her prey but buffy is also a predator to spike’s kind so there is even still a balance of power between them even then and he’s literally just explaining how he played the scene to get the attitude and body language right as a predator bc he understands that’s what Spike is to Buffy at that time (literally had zero clue he would ever be a love interest of Buffy’s). And the other who is not supposed to be a predator anymore…. hides his identity as a vampire AND hides the fact that he’s been watching her for over a year is still acting as a predator but instead of stalking an experienced slayer to attempt to fight and kill he is stalking a freshly called still weak and vulnerable slayer who he wants to sleep with aka corrupt.

Angel is supposed to be GOOD yet is still acting like a predator. Spike IS EVIL and so is simply acting as someone who has killed two slayers should 💀💀💀💀 the fact that soulless evil Spike and soulful “good” Angel’s behavior can be compared AT ALL is bad for angel and angel alone bc spike is supposed to be evil and treating buffy as someone he is hunting and as an opponent. Angel is supposed to be HELPING Buffy….

But regardless of all that the argument is James said Sarah is beautiful so of course he played up that angle as well so canonically Spike thinks a 16 year old Buffy is pretty and these people really don’t understand the difference between the two 😭😭

First of all I personally have heard Sarah call herself “not the prettiest” at least 10 times in 10 different interviews - how often do you think the people in her life heard her make jokes or comments about her appearance??? To me that always seemed like James just paying a compliment to his costar who doesn’t understand how literally fucking STUNNING she is by basically being like HAVE YOU SEEN HER OF COURSE MY CHARACTER THINKS SHE’S PRETTY LOOK AT HER!! James literally rizzed his way into a main character and love interest like of course he’s gonna be charming in real life by paying compliments to everyone he can every chance he gets. He had sex appeal and a dream AND IT WORKED 💀 and we also see him have chemistry with practically every person on the show that’s just who he is 😹😹😹

But I also just cannot emphasize how much of a difference there is between finding someone attractive or thinking they’re beautiful vs actually ACTING on it and ESPECIALLY acting on it when you call her friend of the same age “just a kid” and say over and over again how wrong it is and that she’s too young AND THEN DO IT ANYWAY. Like it’s a supernatural show with vampires who are 100 & 200+ years old if angel hadn’t constantly acted like her dad and treated Buffy like a kid and everything is season 3 didn’t happen there could be sooooooo much more leniency with angel and buffy’s age differences and I probably wouldn’t care bc applying irl rules to the supernatural doesn’t make a lot of sense but angel always treats her like a child and says over and over again how wrong it is and THAT is what makes it a problem within this supernatural show bc Spike never treats her like a child or like she isn’t his equal ever no matter what age she is

But unfortunately it makes sense people who like a character whose main personality trait is !catholic guilt! (when he’s got a soul) don’t understand the difference between thoughts and actions and how we should only be defining ourselves and other people by their actions. Because we are not every single thought we’ve ever had both good and bad. If you think to do good things but don’t that does not make you good and if you think to do bad things but don’t that does not make you bad.

So evil Spike thinking a beautiful Buffy dancing with her friends is hot at 16 is not even CLOSE to the same as a supposed to be good angel activity pursuing a relationship with her by breadcrumbing the absolute fuck out of her, manipulating her like crazy and lying to her about practically everything and flirting with her under false pretenses after falling in love at the sight of her looking like a child with her lollipop on the school steps at 15 and then watching her cry in the bathroom mirror as he watches her from the bushes with a smile on his face and hope in his eyes and if you don’t understand that there is literally nothing I can do or say to help you

[arjwrites]

— Hiii!! I wanted to ask if you could write a angst/comfort Castiel x Winchester!Reader (She's she older sister🥹). Where basically the reader is hunting nonstop to try to vent her anger and Castiel is trying to make her get a break or smth? (Make them cuddle please <3!!)

And I'm so happy to see an active supernatural account omgg‼️❤️‍🩹 (And sorry if it's difficult to understand my request, English is not my first language and it's a little confusing for me </3)

Numb- Castiel x Winchester!Reader

A/N- HI ANON! Thanks so much for being my first ever request! I hope I did this ask justice. Thank you so much for reaching out, feel free to let me know what you think (and don't worry, your English is fantastic!) <3 Summary- Reader is Sam and Dean’s older sister. After a series of unfortunate events, she finds herself separating from her brothers to deal with her own shit the only way she knows how. Castiel, however, has a few things to say about it.  Warnings: Not a whole lot- less than canon level violence, some angst and hurt. A little bit of Cas love <3 -

It had been a hard few years for your family- let’s face, it, a hard few decades. After watching your brothers go through more trials, more heartbreak, more loss than anyone should ever go through in a lifetime, you were weary. Your sweet brothers, so young when they were thrust into this fight. You all were, of course- you were only 6 when everything changed on that fateful night in Kansas. The three of you had grown immeasurably close over all the years of hunting, and it was always your job to keep a watchful eye over the boys. 

You never could have expected what was to come for your brothers. They had faced so much more than you could’ve ever imagined. You were at their side every step of the way as a fierce protector and frequent caregiver. But Sam and Dean were always the eye of the storm- the chaos of the world circled firmly around the two of them. You were a side character time and time again. And that was okay- you played your role, you did everything you could to support your brothers as they went to hell and back. But when one too many demons started chirping in your ear, taunting that you were useless, that you being there only slowed them down, and when your brothers did a less-than-convincing job of assuring you otherwise, you decided you’d take a step back- get out of their way. 

The only way you could describe the feeling was numb. For nearly as long as you could remember, your whole purpose was to protect Sam and Dean, to do anything for them, to keep them safe. And now, you were cast aside, left without a role to play in their big fight. 

It took about a month for you to find your groove. At first you were lost, dodging calls from your brothers, holing up in dingy motels and dirty bars, unsure of what to do with yourself. That was until you heard of a case in the town over from where you were staying- a vamp nest that had been picking at the local population. So, armored only with your own recklessness and loss of purpose, you went in swinging, taking down the nest without so much as a scratch. That was the first time the numbness subsided long enough for you to feel anything. The pure unbridled hatred that coursed through your veins in that moment was the fuel that had been carrying your broken body for nearly six months now. 

Case after case after case. Hauntings and demons and vamps, a shifter, a werewolf or two. You had slashed through every adversary you could track down, careening down the coast and leaving a path of supernatural destruction in your wake. There was no time for breaks, and no need for them. If you let yourself sit with your thoughts for too long, there was no telling what you would do. 

Most recently, you had tracked down a demon with a particularly smart mouth. After being thrown around like a ragdoll and acquiring your fair share of bumps and bruises, you had trapped the demon and begun to exorcise him- but not before he could start talking. 

“Little brothers are lost without you, you know.” The demon gazed down upon you, flashing black eyes and a spreading grin. His tone was taunting, spiteful, designed to confuse and disorient you.

“You shut your goddamn mouth,” you retorted, dousing him in holy water. “You don’t know my brothers.” The latter half of your sentence came out as a whisper, and it was unlikely he had heard you over the sounds of his own screams. 

With the demon exorcised and thus the hunt complete, you soldiered back to your motel room for another night of restless sleep. The anger from the mention of your brothers was still coursing deeply inside of you. Were Sam and Dean really lost without you? Was the demon just saying that so you’d go home and get in their way again? Along with the deep gash that lined your left side and the likely dislocated shoulder, your body also carried with it a confusion and weariness you hadn’t felt since striking out on your own. Yet again, you were letting demons get into your head. 

Arriving at the motel, you unlocked the door and flicked on the buzzing fluorescent light to see a figure standing with their back turned from you. The presence felt deeply comforting and familiar, yet you still drew your gun in anticipation of attack.

“They’re looking for you, you know.” The low, gravelly voice rumbled, traveling slowly across the room as he turned to face you. Castiel. 

Your response was stalled as you processed his arrival. 

“I doubt it, Cas. It’s better to be out of their way. And you know it too.”

“You don’t understand, they were just trying to protect you, but it was not-”

“That’s MY JOB, Castiel. I protect THEM!” Your outburst took the angel slightly aback, drawing a look of concern to his face that you weren’t sure you had seen before. Still, you continued. “But if they don’t want me there to save the world with them, that’s fine. I’m still going to take out every other goddamn thing I can find in the meantime, to protect them the only other way I can.” 

“Y/N. Who protects you? What good do you do to anybody if you’re dead?” Castiel seemed desperate, growing heated in a way that felt out of his nature. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested as you cast your gaze away from him.

“Y/N, I have been watching you. I have been here with you many more times than you have realized. But you were too blinded by your own rage and hurt to see. I have done everything I could to protect you for this whole rampage, but this time I could not, and you got hurt.” The angel closed the gap between you as he spoke, grasping a hand around your arm and letting his grace seep into the wound. His proximity was close, and his grip was tight- it felt like he was holding on to you for fear of what would happen if he let you go. You felt the warmth of healing radiate through your extremities, and though it probably wasn’t from the grace, you could feel the comfort reach your heart.  

Your numbness had shifted. Before, it had always been cold and empty, sharp in a way. It was a numbness that begged to be filled, to be pushed away and stifled. But now, with Castiel’s presence, numb felt soft and warm. It relaxed your entire body and relieved you of tension stretching back further than you were even sure of. 

“Y/N, it is time to rest. You have been a soldier since you were only a child. You must let yourself be. You need to come home.”

This was a softer Castiel than you had come to know before you left. It was still Cas, of course- everything you had always loved so dearly about him, but he felt much more human. The concern in his eyes, the poignancy of his words, the way he so clearly loved and cared for you enough to watch over and protect you for months, all while dealing with his own world of problems. 

And he was right. You had run for too long, drowned out your problems and destroyed yourself in the process. All of the exhaustion, aches and pains seeped into you at once. There was nothing left in you to protest. 

“Okay,” you succumbed. “I’ll rest.”

“I’m glad. You can let me know if you need anything. I will listen in. Perhaps I can bring you home tomorrow, after you sleep.” Cas stepped back, getting ready to blip away, when you used the last bit energy in your system to reach back out to him.

“Wait.” You knew what you needed from him, but you were scared to ask. The room stood painfully still, Castiel’s blue eyes locking with yours in confusion, his gaze as intense as ever. 

“Will you please stay?” 

The broken whisper of your voice left nothing for you to hide. You had crumbled right in front of Cas’s eyes. Something inside him hurt, a sharp feeling in his stomach he hadn’t yet felt before. 

“Yes. I will stay,” he nodded with a deeply furrowed brow. 

So the two of you climbed into the motel bed, Cas hesitating but following your lead. Once you both had settled, he found himself melting into your touch. It felt much more natural than he ever would have thought. He had propped himself slightly upright, while your head met his chest and a leg wrapped one of his. His arm draped over you, rubbing gentle circles into your back, keeping time with the rhythmic heave of your breathing. It was peaceful, he had to admit. He understood why humans did this. 

Your own thoughts echoed that same satisfaction. Though there had been a guardian angel watching over you all along, you could finally rest now that you could feel his presence. It didn’t take long for you to drift off- the chance to just lay with Cas lulled you to sleep much faster than you had ever anticipated. As you slept, your grip around the angel tightened from time to time- like you subconsciously feared he would be gone when you woke up. 

Thankfully, Cas wasn’t going anywhere. It was about time someone was there to protect you.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #13

(I've been kicking this idea around for a while, so here's this.)

✦

Mistaken Species

Phantom gets mistaken for a greater ice demon by a wannabe wizard going on a "gotta catch'em all" spree, and is subsequently sealed inside said wizard's book of magic as a potential binding summons/familiar. Danny goes missing for months? Years? Regardless of how long, somehow, someway, the book falls into Constantine's hands --He probably stole it in a game of poker. Yes, stole.-- then he pretty much just stashes it in the House of Mystery for safekeeping like all the other magic items that have been confiscated by the JLD.

It isn't until a world ending heat related threat appears, that he excavates the book and proceeds to make a familiar's contract with what he thinks is a powerful ice demon. What he gets instead is a very confused, very scared, and very exhausted Danny. Unfortunately for both of them, the familiar's contract still binds despite Danny being the wrong species of supernatural creature it was intended for. They are now stuck with each other for an indefinite amount of time.

Luckily, on the other hand, Phantom is still suited to handling the task he was summoned for and whoops ass and saves the day with his ice powers in little to no time at all. The Justice League are shocked by how quickly and efficiently the kid handled everything where they struggled in comparison.

Constantine has to explain the mix up to both the Justice League and to Danny--hes still very confused, not so much scared, and very tired--and how this ghost child is now stuck being around Constantine, and subsequently the Justice League Dark/Justice League whenever he's called in to help.

Shenanigans ensue as well as the majority of the JL trying to make his stay as comfortable as possible. Danny keeps dropping info bombs on how screwed up his human/hero life and his relationship with his parents is, and eventually help him contact his friends and sister, who have been worried sick about him over the years he'd been missing.

This is how the Justice League learn about what a dead zone (ha) Amity Park is and then step up to handle situation with the guidance of Phantom himself.

✦

Notes:

The amount of time Danny's been missing, as well as the guidelines of the familiar/summons contract are up to you to decide!

(Do I use Constantine too much for these prompts? He just fits so well in so many different au scenarios, it's kinda hard not to keep throwing him into the story.)

[destieltaggedfic]

Hi! Do You Know Any Fics Where Dean And Cas Are Already Dating And Sam Finds Out? Bonus Points If Sam Doesn’t Know Who Cas Is And Meets Him As Dean’s Boyfriend

ok, so obviously if Sam has never met Cas before that kind of leaves AUs or at least Alternate Canonverse, so I'll do a mix of the two.

To The Famous Final Scene - sandean_cas   Ao3

Set S15x20 didn’t happen.  After everything Dean moves away from Sam so they can live their own lives.  But today is the day Sam is coming to see Dean’s house for the first time.  Unfortunately for Sam he decides to sneak in to snoop instead of knocking on the door and learns more than he wanted to about what (and who) Dean is doing now.  (Cas is spelled Cass)

Word Count: 1k                                 Non-Graphic Sex

The Secret Boyfriend - fangirlingtodeath513   Ao3

AU.  It was confusing when Dean and Cas were sent separate invitations to Sam’s wedding, but they don’t realise just how out of the loop their families are when they question the engagement rings.

Word Count: 3k                                 No Sex

you don't know what you're missing, now - Steerpike13713   Ao3

Set S1 AU.  When Sam’s apartment is broken into he wasn’t expecting his brother and his brother’s… hunting partner?

Word Count:4k                                 No Sex

Family Matters – Aeronwy   Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe.  After Sam’s wife got turned into a vampire he’s been on the hunt to put her down.  It leads him to reconnecting with Dean whose life is much different than he would have expected with his angel husband and kids.  But vengeance comes first for Sam and he’s having trouble adapting to Dean’s new mindset about hunting and supernatural creatures.

Word Count:  17k                             Non-Graphic Sex

Hive – SpreadYourWings   Ao3

AU.  When Sam’s car breaks down in a strange town, he isn’t expecting the local B&B owner to be the brother who went missing years earlier, presumed dead.

Word Count: 5k                                 No Sex

[igotanidea]

Species relationship (Cinnamon rewritten) : werewolf!Jason Todd x werewolf!fem!reader

Yes, I think this is way better than previous one. :D

***

„Where’s Jason?”

All the batfamily has gathered in the batcave, the only one missing being the wayward son, the black sheep.

“I believe he’s with that girlfriend of his….” Damian muttered with the roll of his eyes.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes, father… a fellow female…. Ugh… I don’t understand that concept either….”

“Hm.”

“Was it like a good hm or a bad hm?” Dick chimed in. “I swear your grunts are sometimes so hard to decipher, Bruce…..”

“Who is she?”

“We don’t really know…..” Dick threw up his hands “He’s very…. protective over her….”

“Is she…..?” Bruce hesitated. Sometimes it was still hard to admit that werewolves and all the supernatural occurrences to come with it were real. Yes, Bruce had an open mind when it came to technology and reality, but accepting the fact that his second adopted son could transform into a hairy beast was… a lot. However, if there was anyone who could pull that thing off, it was definitely Jason with his 6.0 ft height and 225 Ibs weight.

Imagine the heart attack Bruce would get if it was tiny Damian with such skills…….

“Is she what Bruce?” Dick teased “come on, say it… you can do this….”

“Is she…..a werewolf?” Bruce hissed through clenched teeth.

“Good job, Bruce!” Dick laughed

“She is.” Tim answered, trying to mitigate the situation before someone does something regretful. “A pretty one from what I heard….”

“Who is she Tim?” Bruce turned to his third adopted son.

“How would I know?!”

“You have access to all the Wayne Technology and you’re you. Don’t tell me you haven’t googled her”

“I did no such thing! That would be a gravy invasion of privacy!” Tim made an innocent face that no one bought.

“Hm.”

“What?! I’m serious. You can’t just go and spy on people….werewolves… whatever. “ Tim said it with so much belief that Dick couldn’t help it and burst out laughing.

“Dick.”

“I’m not sorry Bruce. You’re definitely wasting your comedian and acting talent, Tim.”

“I’m being serious. She’s just a girl. A girl who turns into a giant animal every full moon and then sometimes…. It’s not her fault she imprinted Jason…. I won’t be searching for that poor unfortunate soul.”

“Imprinted?” Damian and Bruce asked in unison.

“No.” Dick says sternly. “Just no.”

“But…..”

“You’re too young to hear about it Damian.”

“I’m 11 years old, Grayson!”

“Precisely my point.”

“You will tell me everything……” Damian reached for his katana, but before he could actually do something, Bruce held him back by the cape. “Let me go father…… this is humiliating….”

“You will now go to your room Damian.”

“But….’

“I got some things I need to discuss with your brothers.”

And with those words and Bruce stern expression Dick and Tim knew. They were toasted.

***

 Regardless of what was happening in the batcave, Jason couldn’t care less. He was in fact meeting Y/N, but to say she was his girlfriend or that he imprinted her would be too much. There was something happening between them, but they never really put a tag on it. Besides, the whole concept of finding your soulmate just by looking at them was a false ideology blown by movies like Twilight and Jason scoffed (both internally and externally) every time one of his siblings (or honestly anyone) came as close as even suggesting it.

They felt good with each other, sure, but neither of them were fully convinced whether it was because of the fact that there weren’t really that much werewolves in Gotham and it was nice to have someone to go through the same struggles or whether they liked each other as humans.

Not that they had many opportunities to see one another in that shape.

Werewolf form was… comfortable. It was easier to hide oneself in all that fur and muscle and avoid unnecessary emotions. Being human meant vulnerability, awkwardness and too many words and feelings.

And Jason was not good with feelings. And, to say the truth, he never trusted them.  He was rather used to teasing, deflecting and covering that side with snarky, harsh humor.

At least until he met Y/N.

She was working at the little bakery in Gotham. The only bakery. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Jason to figure out her true identity.

It was not even a challenge considering the fact that as a human, she was always covered in flour and her wolf fur was a mix of tawny and white, almost as if someone sprinkled that ingredient all over her. And what was more, her signature dish was an apple tart with flavoring, and she always smelled of cinnamon. And wolf senses never fails, especially when it comes to nose.

What he didn’t realize what that Y/N was not only a simple baker girl.  And it was amazing what a smart head could do with the access to the Internet and some dot connecting.

Let me repeat: there weren’t many werewolves in Gotham.

For months it was their tradition to meet at the meadow on the outskirts of town to run together or hunt together or just do anything together. He used to swing by her place by the end of her shift, always as a wolf and let her tag along (of course he was not going to admit that he wanted her company. He was an alpha after all. ). So the surprise he felt one day when he showed up at the bakery seeing her as human, not ready for the unwinding was beyond words.

She was just sitting on the threshold of the shop, reading a book, but it was pretty obvious there was something going on in her mind. Again: wolf senses never fails and he could literally smell how distracted she was.

“I know who you are.” She simply said looking straight into his animal eyes.

Jason shook his wolf head. She couldn’t …….

“Jason Todd….”

Whoops.

“Wasn’t really hard to figure.” She shrugs. “You should cut on smoking it’s not good for your health and you reek of cigarettes.” It might have been the first time since they knew each other that he heard her laughing.

The way she acted was… doing something to him. For the hell of it he couldn’t figure why that light reproach made him feel…. Guilty. Chastened. Maybe it was unfair. He knew her identity, maybe he should have told her sooner? It was actually pretty funny that a giant, predatory animal let out a whimper and hung his head in shame in front of a girl, so much smaller than him. It was like at that moment, she got some power over him. A beta!

“Can I?” she asked reaching her hand for his fur and holding back before touching it. Only when he nodded, she tangled her fingers it his silky pelage. “It’s ok, Jason. I know it’s hard to reveal yourself…. Been there, done that… But you’re not alone anymore.” She cooed, caressing his back lightly. “We’re the same kind…..”

In any other circumstances, he would never let anyone touch him like this. But she was… different. The way she talked and comforted him… but surely it was only because of the wolf in her calling to the wolf in him. Kind of a “species relationship”, nothing more.

Definitely nothing more……

So why did he felt the sudden urge to nuzzle her and actually acted on it?

Just a species relationship……

It was month ago and their acquaintance developed.

He learnt that while being a little messy human in her wolf form Y/N was full of grace and gentleness. Acting like one of the Aristocats, even if the werewolves were in fact.. dogs. When she was hunting it was never bloody. She always took care to be clean of the mud, to avoid unnecessary dirt and to choose the nice paths to run in the woods. Each and every of her move were careful, thoughtful and intentional.

Absolutely opposite of Jason who was the perfect definition of running wild and free. But even with her queen-ish attitude she never complained. And he really appreciated that, since Y/N was so different from all the members of his family, who were constantly trying to shape him, tell him what, how, why and when to do (or nor).

With her… he could just be himself.

Just a species relationship.

And after a long night of patrolling he was searching for that freedom he felt with her.

Just like he was doing at that point, escaping the batcave, leaving Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian and all his Red Hood shit behind, running to the bakery just to spend some time with that beta.

It was purely coincidental that of late she’s been working night shifts, finishing in the very early morning. Her boss found out about the little ailment of her which was hypersensitivity to light. To put it simply, working during the day was nearly impossible for her since she was becoming half-blind, getting clumsy and ashamed of said incapability. But still, she was the best employee, letting her go was not an option, hence the work schedule alteration.

Pretty lucky work schedule alteration.

Pretty lucky work schedule alteration that gave them opportunity to spend some more time together.

But still it was just the species relationship.

Nothing more.    

And his wolf heart definitely did not start beating faster when he saw her turned into that majestic animal, waving her tail awaiting his arrival.  When she senses him approaching she tilted her head playfully, imitating the way she used to do as human when something got her attention and her eyes sparkled.

Jason let out a single howl as a form of greeting. Of course, he had to show off. He was an alpha and had to underline his presence and position. And it scaring the shit out of Y/N’s coworkers came in pair with that, he was more than willing to tease those people a bit. Even if his werewolf female friend shook her head in disapproval and was definitely going to tell him off later.

He knew better. He knew she liked him being like this and her every action was only proving that theory.

However, at the moment they were just looking into each other’s eyes. Two giant animals in the middle of the city, lost in the connection they had. Just a for a second though, because Jason got a bit scared of what Y/N may see in his mind if they were standing like that for too long and started running, signaling her to follow him. 

She just couldn’t ignore the calling of an alpha. Her alpha. It was too strong to disobey so she followed right after him, keeping safe distance to avoid getting hit with the dust he raised. She was a lady after all.

Soon enough, with their speed, they reached the meadow in the forest. Their spot. Their place for relaxation and sleeping after a hard day (night) of work.

Jason just tumbled to the ground not having a care in the world, but Y/N took a few turns to make a proper place for herself and settle down. The sun was about to raise and she needed a spot in the shadows to avoid extensive exposure. Even  if in her wolf form she wasn’t really prone to the light sensitivity, it was a bit of a habit now. Not every human instinct was turned off during transformation.

Unfortunately, the place she choose was too far from Jason for his liking as he raised onto his paws and moved closer to her, laying close enough that if they were humans they would be cuddling. And this time she couldn’t care less about his dirty, messed up fur.

It was Jason.

It was her alpha.

And she was the part of the pack. She had to obey.

Obviously only because of that she let him approach her and lay his head next to her, their noses almost touching, their tails waging happily at the presence and warmth of one another.

Only because of that she felt comfortable and safe enough to close up her eyes and enjoy that fuzzy feeling inside her. 

Only because of that she let him shift his position slightly so that he laid in a way that would give her additional protection from the light. Just in case.

Only because of the pack thing they let their guards down, slowly drifting off to sleep, away from all the people, away from reality, lost in one another. Protected by one another .  

Species relationship, my ass.

[mcx7demonbros]

An Unfortunate Thief

Characters - GN!MC, Belphie

Pairing - Belphie x MC (MC is poly)

C/W: Murder, swearing, violence

Ring...ring...ring

"MC, turn off the alarm."

You opened your eyes and struggled for a while to reach your ringing phone on the nightstand. After turning off the alarm, you decided to sit on bed for a little while before doing your morning routine.

"MC, lie down and sleep with me. Ignore whatever you have to do for the day."

You startled. As far as you remembered, you lived alone. So what was that voice that told you to turn off the alarm and lie down?

You slowly turned your head to look at the other side of the bed, where the source of the voice was. You were hoping you wouldn't see something scary. Since that year in the Devildom, you knew the supernatural world to be real.

"Belphie?" You exclaimed in surprise as you found the youngest brother of the seven lying on your bed with his signature cow pillow.

"MC you are being too loud." The brat said, as if you were the one intruding on his bed and not the opposite.

"Belphie, what are you doing in my bed and in my house? Aren't you supposed to be in the Devildom?" You asked.

Belphie grunted and opened his eyes. He knew you wouldn't be off his back without a proper explanation.

"Satan and Mammon worked together to prank Lucifer. It kind of... backfired in a really bad way. Half of the house was destroyed. So I decided to go to the human world to stay with you."

"There's something you didn't tell me. You were in for that prank too, weren't you, Belphie?"

"Fine...alright, I admit. I was in that prank too. But just so you know, I don't want the house to burn down. It's all Mammon's and Satan's fault."

You sighed. You could imagine the tired and stressful expression on Lucifer's face right now.

“Fine. You can stay here until everything has calmed down." You said.

"Thank you, MC. I knew you would be kind enough to let me stay." Belphie said while smiling.

You sighed again. The brat was pampered by his brothers. And you couldn't help but pampering him too.

Too much love breeds rebellion. You said to yourself as you got off the bed and went to the bathroom to do your morning routine.

"Wait, where are you going, MC?" Belphie asked.

"I have work of course. And no, you can't follow me." You said as you entered the bathroom and locked the door.

More than an hour later, after finishing breakfast, you said goodbye to Belphie at the door.

"Be good at home. If you are hungry, there's food in the fridge. I'll be back between 5-6pm, depending on the traffic." You said.

"Alright. Do your best at work." Belphie said even though the expression on his face told you that he preferred you to stay at home with him.

"I will. Thank you." You said before giving Belphie a peck on the side of his lips. You left him blushing at the door as you hurried to work.

Without you, nothing in the house interested Belphie. So he went back to bed and continued sleeping.

.

.

.

Belphie was woken up by the sound of rummaging. He thought that you had returned and was preparing to go out and greet you when he saw the time on the clock. It was 2:15pm.

Maybe the clock is dead. Belphie felt uneasy as he checked his phone. The time on the phone was also 2:15.

Belphie soon connected the dots and knew what was going on. A thief had gotten in the house.

The thief was rummaging through the living room when he heard a sarcastic voice.

"Finding something? Do you need help?"

When the thief looked up, he saw a boy in a hoodie with a cow pillow under his arm, looking very harmless.

The thief took out a knife and began to threatened:

"Where's the money? Show me where all the money is kept!"

"Sorry. But I don't know where the money is. Let me make a call to my lover and ask them where they keep the money." Belphie said with an amused voice as he took out his phone.

"Don't fuck with me. You want to call the police." The thief shouted as he approached Belphie and thrust the knife into the boy's chest.

However, to his horror, the knife immediately cracked when it came in contact with Belphie's skin. It soon turned to dust, adding more to the thief's horror and Belphie's amusement.

"It's my turn now." Belphie kicked the thief's leg, which immediately bended in an unnatural way.

The thief screamed, while Belphie chuckled. The Avatar of Sloth kicked the thief's other leg, breaking it, making the thief fall down.

The thief screamed again, but the demon already placed his foot on the man's throat, preventing him from doing so, along with breathing.

Before the man ceased breathing completely, Belphie lifted his foot.

"Now tell me. Why would you think it's a good idea to steal from this house?"

"I'm s-sorry. On my way to work, I usually go pass this neighborhood. And many times I saw a crow bringing shiny things to this house. I don't know how the owner of this house did it, but I started to think they have a lot of money in the house with that trick and I began to have the thought of intruding into their house and do the stealing. So I asked to leave early today..."

So it's Mammon's fault. Belphie said to himself.

"When I approached the house, I found the door unlocked, so I thought luck was on my side."

Belphie startled. You said goodbye to him at the door, so it was his job to lock the door. But his mind was so occupied with the kiss you gave so he forgot to lock it.

"I can't let MC find out about this." The demon of Sloth mumbled.

Belphie began to lift his foot again. The thief knew what he was going to do, so he cried and closed his eyes, waiting for his death. The Avatar of Sloth stomped his foot, which turned into a cow's hoof for a split second, on the thief's head, crushing the skull, killing him.

"Now I have to clean this mess up." Belphie complained as he began to do the job.

.

.

.

"Wow, Belphie, you cleaned the whole house for me. Thank you, thank you." You said happily and kissed his cheek.

"It was nothing. I figured I should do something for you. After all, you let me stay here."

"Thanks again. Alright, let me make go make dinner."

"Let me help you, MC." Belphie said, smiling.

.

.

.

Author's words

It has been so long since I last wrote an OM x reader fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.

[captainsophiestark]

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X - x reader F - Female Reader (otherwise it’s gender neutral) ☀️ - Fluff ✨ - Humor ☁️ - Angst ⭐️ - Author Faves

Newest fics will be at the bottom

Yellow Paint - X ☀️✨ Y/N is dating Elijah, the brother of their best friend Klaus. Y/N is basically an honorary Mikaelson, which is how they ended up painting baby Hope’s future bedroom with Elijah, while Klaus is nowhere in sight. Although, Elijah and Y/N aren’t exactly complaining.

Paintball and Proposals - X ☀️✨⭐️ Y/N is in an intense situation with the family of their boyfriend, Elijah. If they can make it to the other side, they might just get the happy ending they’ve been waiting for.

The Calm One - F!X ☁️☀️✨ Request: Hey can you do a elijah mikaelson x reader wife who is witch and vampire and where instead of elijah it is she who kills agnes and everyone is both shocked and impressed because she is usually very calm…

Diplomacy - F!X ☀️ Reader has been dating Elijah Mikaelson for a while, and knows about the world of the supernatural. She’s been handling everything just fine, but when a Disney movie marathon with her boyfriend gets interrupted by more ridiculous drama, she decides to take things into her own hands.

Power Outage - X ☀️ A storm’s coming through New Orleans, and it’s almost certainly going to knock out the power. The Mikaelson compound is completely prepared, and with all the siblings being busy, Y/N and their boyfriend Elijah are going to have the house to themselves. Elijah has plans for how he wants the night to look, but Y/N is determined to set them on a very different path.

Overprotective - X ☁️☀️ Y/N and Elijah have been dating for a while, and usually they’re the perfect couple. Sometimes, however, they have their challenges, like when Y/N just wants to have a fun night on the town but her boyfriend can’t stop worrying about all the dangers and enemies that come with New Orleans.

A New Lab - F!X ☀️ Y/N is Tony Stark’s daughter, and has been dating Elijah Mikaelson for a little over a year and a half. She’s been home visiting her family for a few weeks, and even though she loves spending time with them, she seriously missed her boyfriend. Unfortunately for her, she’s got a big project due for her mechanics class, and the only place that’s got a lab where she can work on it is her college, meaning even more time away from Elijah. Elijah, thankfully, is a smart, determined man, and decides he’s going to do something to fix that.

Whom - X ☁️☀️ Y/N and Elijah have been dating for almost a year, yet Y/N still doesn’t know their boyfriend is a vampire. Elijah’s determined to keep them out of it, but when an ambush comes at the end of a date, he might not be able to hide the truth any longer.

Like A Damn Disney Prince - F!X ☀️ Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball.

A Much-Needed Vacation - X ☀️ Elijah Mikaelson is often up to his neck in vampire business and drama, especially when his brother's around to add more. Fortunately, he has someone in his life who can make him take a break when he needs it.

[aplaceinthedark]

LOOKING for the MEANING

chapter one: Old Friends, Same Disease

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm. 

Word Count: 2777

CW: supernatural themes, attempted B&E, mentions of dead bodies, body horror

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.

Featured Creatures:

@ladyveronikawrites @lilhobgobbler @deathblacksmoke @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera

@rottingfern @roley-poley-foley

I learned pretty quickly that Shenandoah Spring never wanted to come when it was told.

I’d heard about “Fake Spring” once or twice from a distant cousin that lived on the other side of the Blue Ridges. The First Day of Spring had come and gone, yet I was certain that some mornings it was still the middle of winter. Mornings like those, I was glad I had a space heater in my bed.

The space heater being my partner, Nicholas Ruffilo.

How most nights he was able to sleep wearing only a shirt and shorts was beyond me. No matter how many blankets I would pile on, or how far I snuggled under his body, I could never get warm. Not that we would complain about the closeness, since some nights felt like they were colder and darker than others.

Tonight was one of those nights - but unfortunately, I was alone.

Night terrors weren’t new to me. Before I left Newport News, I had been warned of the many side effects of PTSD and Survivor’s Guilt. I had been plagued with them constantly until I moved to New Hope, and then they had all but vanished when Nick and I started sleeping together.

Tonight, it was just me and the cats, as Nick had gone to Richmond for the weekend to see his mom. I had stayed behind this time, saying that I was never really alone with our friends in the woods. But now, I was starting to regret my decision.

Usually my night terrors involved the Accident that had happened almost two years ago, but tonight had been different. Instead of Michael’s body, lying lifeless in front of me, it was Nick’s, almost exactly how it had looked last summer. It was an image I hadn’t wanted to ever revisit, but it seemed like tonight my subconscious wanted me to rehash it.

And that’s why I was currently standing on my front porch, alone in the dark.

I took a drag from the joint we had stashed away in our “Medical Emergencies Only: KEEP OUT FOLIO” stash, AKA when we needed to calm down. Despite it being three in the morning, the woods surrounding my house was lively, defying the chill that seemed to permeate everything. I glanced over at the trees, taking in how the moon made them cast long shadows that seemed to claw their way across my lawn.

I no longer feared what those shadows hid.

Which reminded me… I peered behind me, casting my eyes down at the offering plate. It no longer sat down on the porch next to the door, like it was a water bowl for an outside dog. I had put it up on its own little table so as to keep it from getting buried underneath the snow. It held some cookies right now, wrapped in tinfoil to keep the raccoons from getting to them. The fact that they were still there meant Noah or the other two haints hadn’t stopped by to take the offering. 

I no longer woke up when one of them would stop by, though a couple of times I would when I felt Nick leave the bed, but I would just quickly fall back asleep after. Some mornings I would wake up to see that Folio had dumped himself either on the living room couch or the bed in the spare bedroom, snoring away.

As I scrolled away on my phone, I felt the air around me go still. It made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. It was a common sign that one of the boys was near, so I looked up to greet whomever it was. 

Indeed, there was something in the woods, lurking just at the edge of my property line, where the grass turned into the Weeds. I couldn’t exactly see it, just a faint outline, like those games Nicholas likes to play, when the screen says to turn the brightness down until you can't see the image. The presence lingered there for a long time.

I rolled my eyes. “Hello, Noah,”  I called out, putting out the joint in the porch ashtray.

There was only silence in return, and the patch of darkness didn't move. I narrowed my eyes. “Whatever you're doing, Noah, you can do it either on my lawn or fuck off. I'm not in the mood for this tonight,” I snapped.

Nothing.

Unease curled in me. "Jolly? Nick?” I said, using Joakim’s nickname and Folio’s first name, respectively. I tried to keep the fear slowly creeping into me out of my voice, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it.

When I still didn't receive a response, I called out to the shadow with that weird mental connection Noah had with everyone. Noah?

WHAT?

The annoyance in his voice at my intrusion was not helping my panic. Are you anywhere near the house right now?

There was a small pause before he replied,

NO, I'M UP IN THE MOUNTAINS. FOLIO’S ON HIS WAY. WHY?

The second he said the word, No, I was immediately running back into the house. It didn't matter that Noah was still in my head, demanding that I tell him what was going on. I startled the small calico cat awake with the sound of the door slamming shut, causing her to angrily meow at me.

“Shh!” I quietly told Lydia, reaching over to pull the curtains shut. I had barely drawn one set when I heard the front steps outside creak as something put its weight down on them. I immediately dropped down into a crouching position, my back pressed against the door. Lydia was smarter, trodding off back to my bedroom.

Staying as still and quiet as possible, I could just barely hear what was going on on the other side of the door. It sounded like wet rasping, intermixed with some clicking noise. If that was the sound of nails hitting wood, there was no way that was Folio in his Grim form. 

The sound continued for several more minutes, pacing back and forth slowly. The sound would fade off, and I would think it was safe to get up until it paced the other way. I was getting lightheaded from holding my breath for long periods of time. 

That’s when I heard a new sound: metal being disturbed. Was… whatever it is... stealing the offering plate?

I was so focused on listening for the sound again that the knock on my door nearly had me falling over. I couldn't help the yelp that slipped out. I froze, scared that it would alert the monster outside, but then a familiar voice piped up. “Taylor, it's me. Open the door,” Noah said.

I slowly stood up, heading towards the peep hole to check, when I heard the same voice say inside my head, 

DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR! THAT'S NOT ME!

The doorknob rattled vigorously, as if the thing heard Noah. I felt a small surge of pride at having the wherewithal to deadbolt the door when I ran in, but it quickly evaporated when the door violently shook in its frame. I backed away from it until there was a loud bang, as if it threw its body against it, and an unearthly shriek pierced my eardrums. I bolted for the bathroom.

FOLIO'S ALMOST THERE.

I shut and locked the door, and then clambered into the tub before drawing the shower curtain. I then curled up into a ball to wait it out.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours until I heard the sound of heavy paws beating against the forest floor, like someone was beating out a fast tempo on a kickdrum. Then, sounds of snarling and shrieking filled the air, causing a small sob of what was almost relief to escape me. Then, quiet.

“Taylor?”

I froze at what sounded like Nick Folio’s voice, calling out loud enough that I could hear him. "It's safe now. I'm coming in, alright?"

I climbed out of the bathtub and made my way out into the hall. It just so happened that at the same time, Folio was closing the front door behind him. Dark blood dropped from his lips onto the eagle tattooed on his chest, but I knew that he was the real Folio. Only occupants could come into my house.

I nearly tripped over my shaking legs, but I ran over to him and threw my arms around him. He answered in kind, holding me in comfort.

“I got it, don’t worry. It won't hurt you,” he said, smoothing my rumpled hair as if trying to soothe a wild animal. His nose then pressed to the shaved skin above my ear and I heard him sniffing.

"I was smoking before this happened," I admitted sheepishly.

“Obviously,” he said. He sounded a little disappointed.

That's when I heard the sound of trees being disturbed. “Go clean up,” I said, unwinding myself from Folio.

“Can do.” He patted my backside as he passed me to walk to the bathroom.

I pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch. Only the signs of the struggle were apparent. Nothing was broken, and the only things left behind were nail marks and small tufts of silvery-white fur, which I knew had belonged to Folio. He hadn’t looked raked, so it must not have caught his skin. Whatever the thing had been, there was no sign of it.

In the periphery of my vision, a tall shadow emerged from deep within the woods. As it got closer, it shrunk down to a somewhat normal size of a human. The branch-like antlers seemed to emerge from the treeline before his tattooed body did. It almost seemed like his arrival was accompanied by the sound of a cold wind skittering dead leaves across the ground.

“Jesus Christ,” Noah Sebastian, the Watcher of the Woods, swore. “What the hell did you go and do now?”

NOAH

It was something Noah hadn't seen in a long time. 

Folio didn't leave it in one piece, but Noah could tell what it was just by looking at some of the bits. Almost white, hairless, a dried up husk. Its eyes were missing, but Noah knew it had already been like that. These things never had eyes, even back when he was under the old Watcher's control.

That was what worried him: the fact that this thing was here in the first place. He was wracking his brain over when he could have possibly left a corpse rot in the woods when he heard the front door of the house open. He dropped the pale thing to the ground and shifted into his more human form. Years later and he still felt the pain of his “bones snapping to fit inside a body half his actual size.

Taylor looked dead on their feet, and when he stepped onto the porch, they nearly collapsed against him. He steered them back in the house, forcing them to sit on the couch. He waited until they caught their breath to start interrogating.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded. He knew a little bit from the panic that made Taylor practically throw the situation through the mental pipeline he had with everyone, but he couldn't actually see what happened through their eyes.

As they told him what happened, Noah listened intently. Normally, they had a relationship that bordered on squabbling siblings, but when it came to the safety of the woods and those he considered his “inner circle”, he was as serious as a heart attack. 

As he began to ask a question, he heard the shower water turn off. “Do you still have that camera hooked up outside?”

“Yeah. I don't have the motion sensor notify me everytime, since you guys would wake me up at three in the morning,” Taylor said. They pulled out their phone.  

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Noah said. He saw their eyes roll. 

Folio then came out of the bathroom, wearing sweats. He shook his head vigorously, sending water droplets flying. “Did you see what it was?” he asked. 

“Yeah, what little you left.”

“Hey! I didn't eat the whole thing! That shit was nasty!” Folio protested. 

Folio sometimes thought with his stomach rather than his head. It didn't help that Noah let him eat whatever he found sometimes, but that had to stop after he nearly ate Taylor the first time they went into the woods and got lost. It didn't prevent him from starving, though. Between some of the wild animals he'd catch, or whatever leftovers Nicholas would leave for him, he was eating pretty good. He was, after all, a twenty-five year- old stuck in a seventeen year-old body. 

“There's still cookies on the offering plate,” Taylor mumbled as they scrolled through camera footage. 

“Ooh, sweet!”

“Save some for Jolly!” Noah called over his shoulder as Folio bound for the front door. 

Taylor's shoulders slumped a little bit. “Come here,” he sighed, wrapping a long arm around them and pulling them into his wide torso. He was catching onto their moods quicker. He noticed that they liked stability and normality after stuff like this happened. 

And to think, he nearly killed them last year, too.

“Do you want one of us to stay with you until Nick gets home?” Noah asked. He felt them nod against his chest, leaving something wet behind. He sighed again, and kissed the top of their head. 

“I'll stay,” Folio said, mouth full. 

“The fuck did I just say?”

“I SAVED YOU AND JOLLY SOME!”

Noah heard a semi-hysterical giggle escape from Taylor. “Did you manage to find where the attack began?” he asked them. 

Taylor held up their phone, and Noah pressed play. He watched as Taylor ran into the house, and a few moments later the thing slowly crawled onto the porch. He moved the phone, but Taylor grabbed his wrist and held him fast. They wanted to see the monster too.

From the angle the camera was at, it looked like a hairless dog with too long hind legs. It loped around on all fours, back and forth on the porch several times. After a few minutes, Folio in his Grim form popped into frame, causing Taylor to jump, and he clamped his jaws onto the creature. 

“What is it?” Taylor asked. 

“I called them Pale Things. They're what happens to people who die in the woods,” Noah said. “I haven't seen them since the old Watcher would leave bodies left and right.”

“D-Do you know how tall they are when they stand up?” Taylor asked. 

Noah frowned at the odd question. “Why?” he asked. 

“Because something was standing at the edge of the woods, and this… Pale Thing seems too small to be that.”

Noah recalled when they had woken him. “Are you anywhere near the house?” They had mistaken this thing for him? That seemed impossible. 

So there might be something else out there. 

“Call Nick. I'm gonna get Jolly and we'll look around for anything,” Noah said. He then took the tin foil packets from Folio. “If anything that's not us or Nick comes within a hundred-foot radius of this property, fuck it up.” 

Folio grinned, making his sharp teeth more pronounced. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

Noah stood up, patting Taylor on the head in a way that he knew would annoy them. “Go back to sleep, Lil’ Rabbit. I'll be back with the sunrise.” He then walked out of the house that had once been his. 

With every step he took towards the woods, he transformed into a more comfortable form. His body stretched and grew as vines and branches broke through his skin, wrapping around his arms and legs. Bark and moss formed over that as if mocking clothes, but would break at his joints with a loud cracking sound. As he disappeared past the treeline, melting in with the other trees, his skull broke free and melded together so he no longer move his jaw. But the antlers remained; in fact, they grew to impressive lengths.

To some, he was monstrous. 

To him, he was The Watcher of the Woods.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon.

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 4: Talentless Nana vs Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun

#F6: Talentless Nana (Munou na Nana)

Normal school until stuff happens

#F8: Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun (Marimashita! Iruma-kun)

Young boy gets sold to a demon to be his grandson

Details and poll under the cut!

#F6: Talentless Nana (Munou na Nana)

Summary:

Fifty years ago, horrific creatures dubbed as the “enemies of humanity” suddenly appeared around the world. To combat these threats, teenagers gifted with supernatural abilities called “Talents”—such as pyrokinesis and time travel—hone their powers at an academy on a secluded island.

Nanao Nakajima, however, is quite different from the others on the island: he has no Talent. With many “Talented” teenagers around him, Nanao is often a target for bullying, but even so, he still strives to complete his training. Soon after, two transfer students, the mysterious Kyouya Onodera and the mind-reading Nana Hiiragi, join the class. But just as everyone starts blending as comrades-in-arms, mysterious disappearances begin to threaten the class’s entire foundation.

Propaganda:

I’d like to start off by saying that this is NOT a copy of My Hero Academia, even though it sounds as such. It’s kinda hard to explain the show without spoiling a major plot point, but it’s pretty much as the summary says. Honestly, if you want to watch this, don’t look up anything about it—you will get spoiled right away, and it does ruin the experience. I started this without knowing anything about it and I think that’s for the best because it’s plot twist after plot twis,t and you’re not sure what to expect next. That’s honestly something I really liked about it because you don’t know where the story will take you. Anyways, highly recommend because more people should know about this series.

Trigger Warnings:

Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore

There’s a Nazi-coded character who does eugenics, and he’s also the reason for the child abuse tw

Sexual assault attempt on main character

Necrophilia (there’s a character who controls another person’s corpse and act like they’re dating)

#F8: Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun (Marimashita! Iruma-kun)

Summary:

Fourteen-year-old Iruma Suzuki has been unfortunate all his life, having to work to earn money for his irresponsible parents despite being underage. One day, he finds out that his parents sold him to the demon Sullivan. However, Iruma's worries about what will become of him are soon relieved, for Sullivan merely wants a grandchild, pampering him and making him attend the demon school Babyls.

At first, Iruma tries to keep a low profile in fear of his peers discovering that he is human. Unfortunately, this ends up being more difficult than he expected. It turns out that Sullivan himself is the chairman of the school, and everyone expects him to become the next Demon King!

Iruma immediately finds himself in an outrageous situation when he has to chant a forbidden spell in front of the entire school. With this, Iruma instantly earns a reputation he does not want. Even so, he is bound to be roped into more bizarre circumstances.

Propaganda 1:

The main character, Iruma, is very kind and wholesome, and you really just want to see him succeed throughout the series, especially after knowing everything he’s been through. He was neglected and used by his parents, but now he gets to live out a nice life despite being surrounded by demons, as his new grandfather spoils him. The demon that adopted him, Sullivan, is an extremely powerful figure in the demon realm, but through most of the series, he looks like an egg. The side characters are also well-designed with interesting personalities. The main two, Asmodeus and Clara, become almost inseparable from Iruma after they become friends, and the three of them are very cute together. There is also a canon nonbinary cat person, who is technically Sullivan’s servant, but he is treated as part of the family, and he’s a disaster bisexual.

Propaganda 2:

It’s really good in terms of art, plot, and characters. There’s nonbinary representation in the form of Opera, and there’s friendship galore with very poly undertones. It’s so sweet and good, and it’s just rahhhhh. Everyone is silly but also realistic and well-developed. There are reasonable arcs, and there’s a well mix of plot-driven growth and character-driven plots. I love every person who appears onscreen, even for like two seconds. The world building is lovely and so bright and colorful.

Propaganda 3:

You should vote for it because it is genuinely one of the best animes I’ve ever seen. It has good character development, mysteries, focuses on the cast well, and it is not a harem anime. The plot is also really good and is suitable for all age groups.

Fun fact: the main character crossdresses three times in the first three seasons

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse (mild)

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

[iamhereinthebg]

Haven't they broken several rules they've established just for everything to revolve around Tsukasa? Like...

1. A mystery can't be defeated in their own boundary (and yet Tsukasa somehow ripped Kako's heart out in his own boundary)

2. You can't use your tsueshiro in a boundary without permission (and yet Tsukasa ordered his to hold down Mirai)

3. Nobody could move because the school's time was frozen (yet Tsukasa did, as well as Yashiro, and Hanako who if I remember correctly suddenly unfroze on his own to break down into tears)

The earlier chapters were way better at following previously established rules and concepts compared to whatever's going on right now

They did ! :))) (want to explode)

I can understand the idea that Tsukasa is a rule breaker, he did destroy the previous n°3 in his own boundary too and it was an interesting twist! I can understand the idea and why it can be interesting, but the way AidaIro using all others characters/plots to make him stand out is just terrible. Dirsregarding rules is not a new thing about AidaIro unfortunately but Tsukasa really wins all medals on breaking them.

As you said, he was able to move when time was stopped and for which reason?? We don't know. Hanako was able to move once Akane and Teru got to him, probably because Akane is a clock keeper and can somehow give the permission to people to move.

I said it before and I will say it again, but wanting to show a character is powerful/cool by making the others characters look stupid is terrible writing, and that's the feeling I got with Tsukasa in general. (and chapter 109 is just a whole sequence of the characters being made fun of)

We don't know where to stand because he has every kind of tropes attached to him. They want us to understand he is some kind of martyr who is 'omg poor lil Tsukasa who was so selfless at only 4yo boohoo' (no matter which translation I read for the red house arc, he is believable somehow with Kou but then we get the flashbacks with Amane and it's gone). They put him in an 'angel' position and naive position in a lot of aus, want us so bad to understand deep down he is a nice boy. When we watched him do every possible horrors on screen. And don't get me wrong, I don't mind this, it's cool. Him forcing Mitsuba to eat, creating him, the way he treats some characters... It's the way they are not doing that to other characters who is so strange in my opinon. They know how to handle grey characters like Hanako or Teru (from the reader's pov) so I don't why they try so hard to put Tsukasa in a good light.

He is not a believable kid character in the red house arc, being smarter than Kou and Nene is not making him cool, it's just making Kou and Nene absolute idiots.

Him destroying his shackles thanks to Mirai power? It's not him being clever, it's Mirai and the clock keepers being made fun of. Him knowing what Hanako should be doing by using Nene? Not making Tsukasa cool, it's making Nene just as an object for Hanako's love, and to get a reaction out of him, most of the time by making Hanako look stupid. (I could go hours on why Nene is just here to serve as a mean to Hanako's character since some arc rather than being her own person but that's for another day)...

I understand that Tsukasa is like 'the antagonist and should be some steps ahead of the portagonist' but it's just so repitive in the way he is unpredicatble that it became boring and predictable. I was overjoyed to see him like this in chapter 108. (which was let's be honest the only good chapter in this new arc)

Tsukasa is really good here, which is why the drop of quality in chap 109 is even worst. Seeing a new side of him as a supernatural and his sorrow/hatred for Amane is really great. He even moralizes Nene about why sometimes you just need/have to get yourself out of situations alone, and that's how he himself proceeds because his brother never went to see him in 50 years. That he had no choice but to do so. It's great! Really great! To see that he is also an unpredicatble character and who decides to do what he wants not taking people's opinions in mind, because even his older never helped him when he called for him during all this time. It adds a good layer to his character and seeing him weaker/not really knowing what to do is something we desesperatly need for his chacter. But as everything in chap 108, chap 109 throws it out of the window and goes back to the usual ' we have set ups but terrible pay offs' things that has been happening a lot in the recent arcs.

He is also way too OP. As you said suddenly his tsueshiros could move again and he got rid of Kako. Even Hakubo and Teru being ones of the most powerful characters, were defeated once, Tsukasa never was seriously. It's never explained why he is so powerful (probably because he has an entity inside him/he eats others supernaturals) but the difference of levels is just insane, and absolutely not compelling to read.

We don't know why he is doing what he is doing and they try so hard to make him mysterious. They want us to get to know him without saying anything relevant or his backstory. We are left with whole chapters of absolutely nothing. Welp too bad I am not patient enough to see Tsukasa doing random stuff when half of the characters have rushed characters development or none because 'there isn't much time'.

AidaIro want us to understand they love him and that we should too but they are just destroying every other characters rather than make him loveable.

I hate what they did with his character, his role is terrible because it's destroying eveyone else's. Tsukasa is the favorite and it shows, but it's so badly done that I can't help but hate him.

[acupofqueercoffee]

“With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean”

Andromache the Scythian x Witch Reader

gif ▸ queen-shuri ( i don’t know how to link a gif ㅠㅠ )

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

i left her powers to your imagination though i did play around with the idea of them being soulmates. wow it did take me a while. this was harder to write than i thought. frankly, i’m not very pleased with it. i went too long without writing and i feel like i’m getting rusty. i just hope that i managed to do your idea justice 🥹

(=^･ω･^=) leonora the cat made a cameo appearance

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Myriads and myriads of millennia. That was how long the Scythian had been walking the earth. There was not a corner of this world where her soles had not touched. Many a time had the sky borne witness to her downfalls, and thereupon, her immediate beginnings. Throughout her journey as an immortal, she had seen it all, privation, plenty and everything in between. The wonders and weirdness of the world could no longer provoke in her a sensation that would otherwise have six thousand years ago.

Regardless of her very old age that could have her certified as a living fossil, and the boundless knowledge that she had collected throughout her very long life making her a walking encyclopaedia, there existed many mysteries that even Andromache had yet to see. Amongst them, magick was a concept that still remained foreign to her; therefore, a threat. Unfamiliar though it was, it was not entirely unheard of. After all, she herself had been caught in the crossfire while trying to free the accused from the witch trials. In the end, they were just that: accused. There ended the extent of her experience regarding witchery or anything supernatural for that matter.

The only occult phenomenon that she knew to be bona fide was their immortality. The rest was sham. That was, until her team notified her of the all too familiar dream. Until a family of four bar Quynh and Booker, became a family of four, plus a hazardous, peculiar individual.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

The arcane parts of you that had remained concealed for the better part of your life had only recently come to light when you unfortunately faced your demise.

The cause of your death had been as good as silly, slipping on a wet tile and cracking your head open on the edge of your bathtub, but it had shed light on an important piece of information nonetheless.

One second, you were dead, and the next, you woke up in a pool of your own blood. To you, who had been revealed to the bombshell of an information about a week ago, that you were a witchling, you were just in assuming that it was part of your newfound identity.

However, on the following day, with the arrival of a mysterious woman on your doorstep, your life was turned upside down. Going with her had not been of your own free will, having been meticulously knocked unconscious and finding yourself on an unfamiliar bed upon awakening.

The root of your sudden perturbation stemmed from the absence of Leo, a majestic Somali cat with gorgeous red mane that resembled a smaller version of a fox. She had been your greatest companion long before you had been made aware that she was your familiar. It appeared that the bond between a witchling and her familiar became only stronger once a witch unlocked her true potential. Only when a fluffy ball of scarlet hopped onto your bed could you calm.

In addition to, quite frankly, the charismatic complexity of a woman that you eventually learned named Andromache, you met three other people; Nile, who looked the closest in age to you, Nicky who had the kindest face out of the four, and Joe who appeared the most laid-back. All five of whom, four who you had just met, and the remaining one who, as explained by them, was away to carry out his punishment, were not entirely unfamiliar to you. You had seen them in the dream that had sought you right after your very first’s death.

Regardless of your non-involvement in being here, the decision to remain here was done of your own free will, reached by not only your instinctual feelings but also the support of Leo. Growing up alone, you had no one to miss you, and no one to be missed by you. It seemed sound to stick with those as peculiar as you were, than to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the ordinaries, or so you had believed.

Oh, how terrible of a mistake you had made by assuming that being immortal would make you the same as them, or them the same as you.

Although the others welcomed you warmly, making you feel at home as best as they could, your confession about your true being was not received kindly by Andy as the others called her. In fact, even the nickname was a privilege that was beyond your reach.

“That’s Andromache to you.” so she had corrected, lips the very picture of a straight line, when you had made a slip of your tongue.

Being forced out of slumber one night by a curious dream, similar in kind to the one you had on your death’s day, led you to seek the group with a question in mind. No sooner had you set foot in the room than the Scythian made herself scarce without so much as acknowledging you.

“Andy, albeit not being the most open person, can be ridiculously protective of her team. You are now one of us which means that she cares.”

“Humans harbour fear of the unknown. Even Andy cannot be entirely immune to it. Give her time.”

“She’ll come around. Take me for example. I had been killed once, beaten to a pulp, and had my bones broken by that woman, all of which transpired within the same day.”

Despite the reassurances from Joe, Nicky, and Nile, you would rather she kill you than disregard your existence altogether. Her aloofness stung you all the more for you felt oddly, albeit rather profoundly, connected to her.

You wanted to believe that it was time she needed, and time, you gave her, but when you were being actively avoided by her like you were the very plague, it only made sense that your tolerance would eventually run thin.

Unlike the Scythian along with Joe and Nicky who had been protecting humanity for centuries, and Nile who used to be a marine, you lacked experiences when it came to being a warrior. Additionally, being a witchling meant that you were a complete novice in magick. During one of your first missions, due to an error on your part, you had hindered your team by causing their unnecessary deaths.

You were not oblivious to the fact that the Scythian’s immortality had reached its end. In fact, it was by dumping all your attention onto the woman that you had not a dot to contribute to your part of the task. Although the mistake was borne of your all consuming concern for the Scythian’s safety, appreciation was the farthest thing from which you ended up receiving.

“Andromache, I keep having this dream of a drowning woman. Is she someone like us?”

When you had brought the question to her with a flimsy hope of instigating communication, sapphire green eyes had coldly held your soft-eyed gaze.

“There is no us.”

Such had been her words, thickly laced with venom that it rendered you absolutely crestfallen.

Thereafter, you were left alone in the room along with your question neglected. The answer to which was being delivered to you presently in what you could only describe as the most unkind fashion.

“You wanna know who that woman in your recurring dream is? That’s Quynh and if I could, without question, I would trade you for her. You should be the one locked up, not her. Quynh isn’t a witch. You are!”

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Every day, I worry over whose immortality will be stripped away next now that you’re in existence. What use are your abilities when you can’t even make good use of them? A hazard to the team. That is what you are! Nothing but a liability.”

Razor-sharp and poison-bitter, her frankness certainly did a splendid job of maiming you.

Despite not only being shunned, but also having your sorry little heart wounded by the very kingpin of the team, withering was the last thing that befell you. If it did, you were doing a good job of putting up a front, fragility hidden behind a tough facade.

You trained more. You smiled more. Always so cheery, always so carefree until one day, a relatively trying mission brought about the shattering of the mask that you had painstakingly put in place.

“Have I done something wrong? Why does she loathe me so?”

Having been bursting at the seams with bottled up emotions, it was no wonder that your heart reached its breaking point.

“I can’t. I can bear it no more.”

An endless leakage of tears marred your features as you came apart at the seams, revealing to the team the depth of the wound the Scythian’s coldness had burned into your psyche.

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You were different as they were but at the same time, you were different from them altogether. The Scythian had her suspicions to begin with when, after swiftly sketching the picture of the one who had visited their dream, Joe had handed her the book in which a familiar face stared eerily back at her.

Losing her immortality meant that she was no longer privy to these interconnected dreams. However, there was no mistaking the face that had been plaguing her dreams for years. Andromache did not know what it suggested for them, and it was disconcerting to say the least. Then, once the fact was made known that you harboured powers beyond immortality alone, with her suspicions solidified, you were deemed a threat.

As was with Nile, there, too, was a strong possibility of you coming to be at the cost of one of the veterans’ immortality. The staggering awareness that it could very well be Quynh was a bitter pill to swallow. It did not make it any more palatable that Quynh was unfairly accused of being a witch, and locked up in the bottom of the ocean for centuries upon centuries only for a real witch to take her place.

If her rationality had not been muddled by stress, and the deeply rooted guilt and resentment of having to lose Quynh, she would see that her judgement about you had been done with extreme unfairness. Cruelly subjective instead of reasonably objective.

In the end, Joe and Nicky had to play the role of an eye-opener.

“What’s wrong with you, Andy? You’re being unreasonably cruel to the kid.”

“She proved hazardous to the team.”

“She is a part of the team!”

“She’s not entirely like us.”

“That’s absurd!”

“I lost my immortality upon Nile’s arrival. Quynh is next in line. What if she-” Brushing her palms over her face, a sigh was heaved into the cocoon of her hands. “The innocent has to suffer while the guilty takes her place? Don’t you think it’s unfair?”

Joe levelled her with a glare that screamed incredulity while both of them sounded truly disappointed.

“My god, Andy, are you hearing yourself?

“Where is the Andy I know who’s endlessly caring to her people?”

“Your anger is dreadfully misplaced. It is those pea-brained bastards that should be rightfully crucified, not an innocent kid.”

Even amidst being chastised, Andromache could not help but be awed by the couple as they effortlessly supported each other.

“You’ve been nothing but, to be brutally honest, a heartless bitch towards her, and yet, she’s always been heedful of your safety. Despite her lack of experience, the kid’s been tirelessly pushing herself. Can you not really see? Or, did you blatantly choose not to?”

“The way you treat her is cruelly unfair. You know it to be true. You can’t tell me otherwise. Whether she is a witch, or- or say, a vampire, or whatever the hell she is, she’s irrevocably one of us.”

“Poor kid’s devastated by your actions. You would do well to own up to your mistakes and ask her for forgiveness.”

Slowly but surely, the Scythian was beginning to see the errors of her actions, but it was only after having been knocked some sense into her by her very family could she truly grasp the extent of her callousness.

And thus, she came seeking you, a mission that was accomplished rather swiftly.

The sight that she had walked in on forced her to a stop. Keeping herself hidden behind a wall, she was caught off guard by a pang of…perplexity, she decided to name for now, that started pounding against her ribcage.

You were locked snugly in Nile’s arms, face buried in her chest as you dissolved into tears. Seeing you so broken, and knowing that she was undeniably the culprit behind your suffering did something inexplicable to her, but when the pang only intensified, her mind was transported back to a period of time many many moons ago. She had found the amour who she was particularly fond of mingling with someone else, and needless to say, it had not sat well with her.

The green-eyed monster had taken possession of the Scythian then.

Now, the same monster was knocking on her door, bringing with it an unpalatable sensation.

Confused and overcame with labyrinths of emotions, Andromache who had never, in her immortal life, willingly backed down from a challenge experienced her first surrender. Incapable though she was to approach you, the Scythian’s night was spent fruitfully as she dissected her puzzling reaction.

By morning, the puzzle was solved, and her feelings, understood. The pang of perplexity, as it so happened, turned out to be a pang of jealousy, followed closely by guilt and something else entirely that she was not yet ready to admit out loud.

The question however was, had she been too late in realising her mistakes, and thereupon, her feelings?

She had every intention of talking things out with you, but the sudden emergence of a mission compelled her to put it on hold.

Joe and Nicky took care of driving, and as much as she disliked seeing you stick to Nile the entirety of the ride, she knew that she had no rights interfering. For that, she had but herself to blame.

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Raining down around Andromache in a violent downpour were bullets. None of them were offered a chance to reach her, for as she fought with her foes, her team had taken it upon themselves to guard her. They were playing defence while she did the offence. Although at first, their strategy was working remarkably well, as the troops multiplied on the opposing side, their stance faltered.

Being a burden to her team was the last thing she wanted, and having had enough of her team suffering in her stead, she took off from the formation, aiming instead towards the enemy line with her beloved labrys in hand. At her lead, her team followed suit, coming to grips with the enemy team. They covered her, as one after another, the opponents were annihilated by the Scythian’s effortless execution.

Everything had been working in their favour until, all of a sudden, Andromache found you planted firmly in her way. Although, if only for a moment, she was confused, she learnt just as quickly that a bullet had found home in your flesh. A moment later, and her axe, too, found sweet purchase directly between the eyes of your aggressor. Together, you made light work of defeating your opponents. As you kept them restrained with the help of your powers, she delivered finishing blows.

Between using your powers to assist her in combat and taking damages for her should the assaults were to prove lethal, one too many times had you use yourself as a shield. As a result, your body was riddled with many an injury which the Scythian noticed were taking longer than necessary to heal. Through the wounds leaked blood, and it made Andromache nauseous with worry.

What she perceived next, she heard it first, before she saw it. A loud bang of a gun that sounded from behind you.

Almost instinctively, her hands found home on your hips, soft flesh yielding beneath her calloused fingers as she quickly did a swap of positions. If a bullet were to hit, it would be her instead of you. The inevitable pain, which she was bracing for, never came. She understood why by the time her eyes fell on you. Tendrils of glowing green were dancing to your fingers’s desire as a protection was conjured around the pair of you.

The mission, once again, accomplished, she took the time to admire the delicate blossom of a smile on your lips. A feeling that quickly dissolved into worry upon hearing the little whimper that escaped them. By the time your eyes slipped shut, and your legs gave out, with her heart in her throat, she caught you in her arms.

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The shock Leonora the familiar felt upon seeing you in the Scythian’s arms only continued to crescendo when you were carried not into your room, but, hers.

“She isn’t healing. Why isn’t she healing?”

The question was evidently for her, and so, she answered.

“Immortality doesn’t grant her immunity to damage done by her mate. A mate’s rejection to a witch is quite possibly the most harrowing form of torture. It leads to deterioration of the body.”

Her response took a while to come. “How can I find them?” Leonora eyed the Scythian curiously as plethora of emotions flashed across her face before the words were hissed through gritted teeth. “Her mate.”

“A witch’s familiar cannot be understood by just anyone. Only her true mate can.”

“What are you implying?”

“You’ve been seeing her in your sleep, have you not? Long, long before her immortality came.”

By the way she was looking at her, sage green eyes shimmering with shame, she almost felt bad, emphasis on almost, because in the end, she did not shy away from rubbing salt on her wounds.

“Given your time on this earth, I had surely believed that you would know better than to jump to conclusions. I’ve overestimated you, it seems.”

“My time on this god-forsaken place is precisely why I can’t trust people outside of my team. On more than one occasion have I been led to plight by pity and my sense of duty. Some of which have caused me my comrades.”

“And you thought it wise to reject one of your own?”

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“I fucked up, I know. But I don’t want to fuck up any more than I already have.” The Scythian’s voice was laced with genuine upset as she pleaded with your cat, eyes desperately beseeching. “So, tell me, please. How can I fix this?”

“There are quite a few things you can do. That said, physical contact with her mate is the easiest and the most effective way for a witch to replenish her energy. I would strongly advise cuddling.”

Thus landed the Scythian into her bed that was presently housing your unconscious frame.

Only now, as she was lying face to face with you, did she realise how little she had looked at, let alone appreciated, you.

Tentative fingers touched a cheek so soft to unveil your face curtained by a few strands. Battle-hardened though they were, they executed the task with tremendous tenderness.

The scars that her eyes discovered upon wandering down your neck had the effect of jogging her memory. With the long forgotten memory now dug up and on the forefront of her mind, she was transported back in time.

During one of her travels, she had chanced upon a house on fire. Even though, normally, she would avoid involvement in fear of exposing herself, and consequently, her secret, she felt compelled to enter the roaring flames. What, or rather, who she found was a little girl trapped inside a room. Instead of crying as any child in such predicament most likely would have, she was busy murmuring reassurances to the little kitten that was cradled protectively in her tiny little arms. There was no doubt that she was in intense pain if the wound that had been leaking blood on her neck was any indication.

Now that she thought about it, the familiar dreams began on the very same night. It had been so dark in the house that she did not get a chance to properly see your face. Nevertheless, your cat was right. Andromache should have known. If she had only taken the time to think carefully instead of rushing to conclusion, all the suffering would have been spared. After all, in all the dreams that she had of you, you had never so much as harmed a hair on an ant’s, let alone, a person’s head. How big of a nitwit had she had to be to harbour the thought that you would be capable of intentionally sabotaging them.

With your face as sweet as Baklava and your heart so golden, you had to be the quintessence of innocence, pure, unsullied white, sent into her life to remind the Scythian, who was tainted with darkness and death, that the world was not only teeming with war and wickedness. In contrast, she had to be the wickedest of them all to be able to trample a delicate little bud without giving her a chance to prove herself.

She had, Andromache admitted, oh so cruelly, snuffed out the little shimmering ray of light. Come hell or high water, it was now the Scythian’s duty to chase away the heavy, stormy clouds that were threatening to devour the little sunshine.

If you were to allow it, she would, in fact, declare you her sunshine.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

Meanwhile, feeling rightfully smug, Leonora the cat revelled in having her head scratched as the ginger fur-ball lounged in Nile’s lap.

She might have made a drama out of a crisis while playing cupid, but what she had said, in her defence, were not entirely incorrect. She would be a fool not to make the most of a stellar opportunity if it meant making her best pal happy. After all, unlike you who was annoyingly upright, she was a firm believer that if used wisely, trickery always bore the sweetest of fruits. Plus, if you finally found someone to cuddle with, then, she would hopefully, thankfully be spared the odds of being squeezed to death.

And viola! If love was on your side and luck on hers, you would win yourself a girlfriend, while she got to experience freedom. It might just be the best example of killing two birds with one stone, if Leonora did say so herself.

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Waking up to a muscled body pressed against yours, and strong arms cocooning you, you had half a mind to believe that it was a by product of your sleep-ridden mind.

Only when you heard Leo’s voice in your head did you realise it was in fact not a hallucination.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Unlike your utterance, your actions suggested otherwise. As if possessing a mind of its own, your face had sought solace in the warm dip of her throat. When you spoke again, it was but a murmur. “I’m aware that you love Quynh.”

Her reply came a moment later in the form of a merciless stab to your heart. “I won’t lie to you. I do love Quynh.” Your endeavour to escape from her embrace was doomed to failure. “But, it is no longer the kind of love that I felt once upon a time. Loving her doesn’t equal falling in love with her.”

“It was hard, losing Quynh, and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

You were wounded, and thereupon, healed by her words. The choice, essentially, lay in her hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself either if something were to happen to you.”

She coaxed your face out of its little haven in favour of her soft-eyed gaze roaming over the planes and hills of your face.

“You must have felt scared. Lost. I was supposed to be there for you.”

In addition to the collapsed eyebrows, her voice had a sad lilt to it as a thumb gingerly caressed your cheek.

“I know a simple sorry cannot fix all the pain I’ve caused you, but if you’ll let me, I truly wish to earn your trust.”

Since the mood had been too gloomy to your liking, you opted for a lighter, more benign route with your response.

“Now, now, Andro-“

“Andy, please. Call me Andy.”

“Andy.”

Her name tasted sweet on your tongue.

“You were saying?”

“-someone might think you’re trying to woo me.”

You came dangerously close to disclosing your desire, and if you were being honest, you had been entertaining the idea of confronting her after your facade fell in front of the team. It was an all-or-nothing decision.

After everything she had said and done, you would be lying if you said you were not hoping for her to ruthlessly reject you. At the same time, saying that you were not foolishly hoping for her to miraculously return your feelings, too, would be a downright falsehood.

“What if I am?”

In the end, it was neither foolish nor impossible, though, it did feel miraculous all the same.

You liked her. Tremendously. And although it was true that she had hurt you, you knew for a fact that her reason for doing so was not ill-intentioned. It was done out of worry for her team, and blaming her for it would be ludicrous. You did admit that she had been terribly unkind to you, but you knew that she was altruistically caring at heart. Not only could you feel it, you liked her too much to deem the errors of her way irreparable. Mistakes came to be in the first place as an opportunity for one to learn from them. You were all to willing to give her a chance.

“Well then, Andromache of Scythia, luckily for you, I’m not very hard to please.”

“Kiss me as much as you’re sorry, and I’m all yours.”

You watched, giddy and gleeful, as a smile bloomed on her handsome face.

“With pleasure.”

Fanning the flames of heart palpitations by bombarding one with kisses, as sweet, and soft as soufflé, should be included in the ever-growing list of ways she knew how to kill a man. Of course, she was allowed to use this delightfully tantalising technique on you and you alone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

this is how i imagine leo would look like as a cat

[polufabrikat-na-vilke]

Thoughts about Diavolo and Doppio

Introducion

All that ton of text exists because I didn't believe it was DID since my first time watching and reading Golden Wind. Literally from the first time seeing their actions and interactions, I thought it looked more like some sort of supernatural thing than that condition, to which I only found more confirmation as I watched. I still want to call the following examples thin, since there is a very high probability that Araki was simply going way too wild with all this mystical mysterious secrecy of the antagonist, and everything that I will give may turn out to be just the fattest wicked technique for exaggerating this, but I want to express my thoughts nonetheless. Plus, I think it might be a narrative trick after all, so I may turn out to be right in the end of the day.

Point

So, let's get it straight: the theory is that there's no DID in that story, Diavolo is not an alter-ego, but something else and probably not a human at all. And now to the specifics.

Let's start from afar: his (to make it easier to read, I'm talking about Diavolo in a generally accepted way) mother, in her words, became pregnant from an unknown man who died 2 years before his birth, and, moreover, she has been sitting in isolation from the outside world for 2 years, in a specifically women's prison without any men at all. AND, MOREOVER, the anime adaptation shows that the fetus develops in just a few hours (I’ll say a few more words about the validity of David's version later). Well, it’s impossible, well, it’s a huge nonsense, even if we consider from a seemingly scientific point of view of this universe, with which Araki tried to explain, for example, the change in physical parameters when switching egos. Here's mystical supernatural shit number 1.

Further. This particular point is relevant only for anime adaptation. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any data on how much Araki took part in its creation, I confess, but I have the right to assume that if it was approved by him and released the way we see it, it is quite a canon by which we can argue. It came out after the manga and this is quite possibly a more correct representation of events from the point of view of canon details. In the same scene, after birth, the baby's eye color momentarily changes from hazel to red, then back. This move, I want to note, is often used to show a character’s possession, usually with supernatural forces or the like. Yes, it is also used to refer to a "second personality" or some hidden nature of a character, but newborns do not have DID, it is a disorder that develops after severe repeating trauma. Mystical supernatural shit number 2.

We smoothly move on to the extreme turbidity and ambiguity of DID, and I’m not even going to talk about body changes when switching. So, DID develops, as, by the way, even in the original source is noted, as a result of a deep shock or trauma. A person dissociates from the traumatic experience, which, if severe and repetative to the point when their mind can't really survive it, results in violation of an identity integrity. It does not develop immediately and is noticeable to others, while commonly not being noticable to a person expiriensing it. And what do we see on this topic there? Nothing, only Doppio shows symptoms of dissociation, and only in situations where something threatens to expose the boss’s identity (or in other situations related to him, that’s the only way), which is strange, because I can’t even imagine such a trauma can be (i.e., it becomes a chicken-and-egg paradox: the trauma, in theory, should be related to the boss, to alter, but without the trauma there should be no boss, no alter). Other trauma is either not shown, which is a serious omission from the script, because this is no longer a mystery, but a hole, or it simply does not exist, because in the village, as far as can be seen, the attitude towards him was near normal, and his foster father is caring and loving, and has a trusting relationship with him (judging by the phrase casually thrown by the drivers from a flashback with his youth, where they warn him not to complain about an accident on the road to the priest, which seems to refer to the fact that this has already happened at least once before, and as if he would hardly have gone to him to complain if he did not trust him). Mystical supernatural shit number 3.

The same muddy and unclear story with his mother under the floor. Why is she there? For what is she there? How did she survive there? But who would know. In my opinion, it looks like some kind of some ritual-related bullshit, or at least a sacrifice to something, but I don’t undertake to make any special statements or comments here, I’m just noting and thinking. Mystical supernatural shit number 4.

Let's get to non-flashback events. POSSIBLY Diavolo is able to influence Doppio's consciousness (which does not happen in the opposite direction). This is indicated by the latter’s holy faith in the fact that he is talking to his boss on real work phones, well, that’s how he sees them, as well as the clouding and memory lapses that suddenly occur after the end of the call, which is strange, but still convenient for Diavolo, what a goddamn lucky coincidence, huh? I don't think alters are able to perform such tricks. Mystical supernatural shit number 5.

In the SCR arc, characters mutually switch bodies with closest persons. What's going on with Diavolo in that situation? He, like a self-respecting individual soul newly revealed to the audience (!), not like everyone else, not like a sucker, "attached" to someone else’s soul (it was kind of similar with Doppio before), and for time secretly sit happily in one body for two. And now, this is no longer a person suffering from DID (that is, a soul with, in our case, an ego split in two (that's PSYCHE thing)), but a whole separate being, moreover, also capable of ruling his soul as he pleases. Mystical supernatural shit number 6.

We will need some of the things from the previous point now. At the end of the arc of Ciocolatta and Secco, Diavolo not only immediately knows from somewhere that Bruno can only see souls, but he also, in order to make Doppio look like Trish for him, lends him a fucking piece of his (let me remind you, separate, like we have already found out) soul. A piece of his soul, God damn it! He (again) not only knows some unreal information about souls, he, as already said, is able to manipulate at least his own. Mystical supernatural shit number 7.

His eyes (iris and pupil), already extremely unique in themselves, are the eyes of his entity, but not his body. When he takes control of someone's body it is visible, when Bruno is in his body it is visible. Worth a mention. Mystical supernatural asshole number 8.

The last, probably the most interesting mystical, but not so supernatural screw-up lies in a small detail: when the souls of the characters in the final battle return back to their bodies, we are shown all of them, except for Diavolo's (well, more precisely they showed King Crimson as it, but this doesn't count (otherwise Diavolo is KC, lol)). Coincidence? I don't think so. More likely it was done on purpose, and this is not even attributed to the supposedly yet another creation of an aura of mysticism around his personality - at this point we seem to already know very well what he looks like... Or we don't, actually?

Conclusion

That's all, actually. The bottom line is the same: Diavolo is something supernatural, I don’t presume to say what he is exactly. This is probably all the fairly significant evidence (meaning those that are less than half conjecture) that I had. There were a lot of strange things in JoJo, inspired by some things from the real world, and then blown up to the point of "incredibility," but here they tried to tie it into some kind of pseudoscientific nonsense that I didn’t believe in. In any case, this is not the first "spirit" in this universe (it’s worth remembering Anubis), so this theory, I think, is more than valid.

So thank you for reading, it's open for discussion, since we'll never know the truth for sure (DID was the assumption of the characters of Vento Aureo, and they called it "assumption" themselves (I want to believe with all my soul Araki fooled everyone, being an unreliable narrator so Diavolo will be even more of an enigma)).