#and of course the veins and arteries

[distantlaughter]

I like the Barca x patta collab. Mostly bc I am a nerd

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR HOT COWORKER WANTS TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD, OF COURSE YOU'LL SAY YES !! ❞

✧ pairing: vampire! choso kamo x f!reader

✧ summary: choso kamo is your coworker who seems to hate your guts - even though you're both always stuck working together, but the only reason he does is because he wants nothing more than to eat you up -- blood and all.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, coworkers to lovers, vampire!choso, vampire bites are an aphrodisiac for both the vampire and the victim, no real dub/con b/c these two are already down bad for the other, mutual pining, scent kink, blood kink, blood sucking from neck / wrist, implied masturbation (m!), oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / yume041624

✧ wc: 7,193

It wasn’t as if you weren’t sure your coworker hates you—

 You were sure of it. 

He avoided you like the plague whenever the two of you were working on the same project. He always did his best to reply over email, avoid in person meetings, and he always seemed to get sick whenever the two of you had to greet the client together. But you didn’t know why — you hadn’t done anything to offend him, unless he had mistaken your hello for spitting in his face. And that wasn’t even the worst part. 

The worst part was that he was exactly your type — fucking hot. 

Dark locks tied into a bun with a few strands escaped its binding by the end of the day, his neat nails painted a dark purple that rifled through paperwork, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and lovely, deep eyes that barely had stolen a glance at you but you could spend a millennia exploring—

In summary, you had it bad. 

And he didn’t seem to know — or worse, he knew and he hated it. Or you. 

But maybe something could change today, you flicked a pen up and down between two fingers as you stole a glance at him across the now empty office, the two of you were stuck working overtime on this project for two days now. But he still had managed to avoid you — but not today when you were stuck in the same conference room sorting through boxes of files that your client insisted must be done today. 

You were getting some sleep at a hotel across the street, taking a quick nap and shower before returning, but Choso looked like he hadn’t slept in days. And you didn’t know why. 

You glanced up at him between sorting through boxes, and you saw him adjust his collar, loosening his tie, fabric gripped tightly under white knuckles. His head was hunched over, his expression hidden behind the box in front of him, but you saw a hint of red in his eyes. You bit your lip, now you were worried. 

Maybe for the wrong reasons. 

“Choso, are you okay?” 

No, no, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay after working overtime for two days straight. He wasn’t okay being stuck in this tiny, dimly fluorescent lit conference room reviewing files that would only prove fruitless and a waste of time for all parties, and what made it worse was you—

No, not you, his canines grew, sharp fangs digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lips, 

Blood. 

Your blood. 

The very thing running through your veins and arteries, pumping through every crevice of your body through your heart — crimson stained your insides as it would your skin if pierced or cut — and it was the very thing that Choso wanted more than anything else. 

But no, it couldn’t be anyone else’s — he bit his bottom lip as you stretched, your blouse and hair moving ever so slightly and exposing your neck — it had to be yours. 

He pressed his hand against his face, palm covering the bottom half of his face as he forced himself to avert his gaze from you, all too unaware of his thirst — the very same that pulled his muscles taut and made his mouth water at the thought of you. His face was flushed — that much was for sure, as he felt the heat radiate from his face. 

And he knew one thing for sure — that you were the one who’s blood would taste like the divine personified. But that’s why he had worked so hard to avoid you, to make sure he didn’t spend any time alone with you, lest his logic and sense fail him at once and he ends up with his fangs pressed to the nape of your neck at once. 

No, he had decided he couldn’t do that. There were far too many times he had seen other vampires find partners this way — succumb to the urge — the draw of bloodlust — only for their partner to grow addicted to the pleasure that comes from the bite, and the relationship only fell apart when it was the only thing holding the relationship together. The bite could only do so much, it was an aphrodisiac for both parties, but not a miracle worker — chemistry burns bright and fast, but it could not make love exist if it wasn’t there to begin with. 

And his avoidance of you had made any relationship between the two of you hard to happen — especially when every word you spoke sounded sweet and honeyed from those pretty lips. It didn’t help that he was reserved to begin with, but you made all words fall from his mind with only a glance — so what would a conversation do to him — much less a kiss? 

“Choso, have you reviewed this one yet?” You ask, grabbing a box from his side, “I finished my half so I thought I’d help you finish yours,” 

He shakes his head, “Go ahead. Thank you,” he barely manages through nearly gritted teeth, with barely a glance up — fuck, it didn’t help that you were always so kind, good at your job, and so pretty—

Fuck, the document he held crumpled under his tight grip, he shouldn’t have let it get this bad. Why had he let it get this bad? A few overtime shifts weren’t usually a problem for him — but being stuck with you? It was torture in the highest order — especially since he hadn’t been able to get home to his reserves at home and he had just run dry of the bottles he kept on himself this morning. 

He sees you stretch again, this time your neck, and a heat began to creep on as he watched right over the top of the document he read. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

You were going to ask him. 

You were going to confront him about why he avoids you. You had made up your mind — you were tired of walking on eggshells without a reason. If you were going to be stuck working with him on future projects, especially with this client, he needed to tell you if this was how it was going to be. 

And yet, you still sat, rereading the same document over and over, as the two of you were almost done wrapping up your work for the night. Choso was placing the last box he finished up away, a sigh stuck in his throat as he got to his feet. 

“I’m going to head home,” he gets to his feet, a sigh on his lips, as he rakes his fingers through his black locks, “do you need help cleaning up?” 

“No, I’m fine,” and he’s grabbing his things, as you bite your lip and stare at the shiny laminate of the conference table in front of you — fuck it, “I did have a question,” as he’s walking by in the doorway of the conference room, as your scramble to your feet, reaching for him, your fingers brushing his shoulder by mistake, and he’s tensing, “sorry, I didn’t mean—“ 

“It’s fine, what’s your question?” His reply is curt but he won’t even turn to face you, his fingers fiddling with the watch on his wrist. You furrow your brow, was it you or was his body shaking? 

“I just wanted to ask you if you had some sort of problem—“ and then his bag clattered against the floor, contents spilling out, as he supported himself against the door frame, slumped against it, as his fingers gripped it. 

You gasped, a quick brush of your fingers to his shoulder again, “Are you ok? Choso?” 

Choso’s head swam — he could barely hear anything — every sound drawn out and garbled, as if he had plunged his head underwater and words were echoing in his ears. He felt his knees buckle under his weight — and he can’t think straight — and for a moment of clarity he realizes why—

Your touch — it was a spark amongst a field of wheat in a dry heat — and it was enough to set his entire body alight. And now—as he barely held himself together, muscles tensed and eyes fluttering — a haze of heat blazing ribbons up his body, and down — right to his cock. 

Fuck. He’s swallowing, his muscles taut, as he tugs at his collar, even the brush of his clothes against his skin enough to drive him to the point of insanity. And it doesn’t help that your scent fills his nose, honeyed and cloying and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing the scarlet gaze would do nothing but elicit a scream. 

“Please leave,” he says through gritted teeth, he can imagine the concern written across your expression, “go—“ 

“I’m not leaving you like this alone,” fuck, you only draw closer, the brush of your fingers against his shoulder enough to have him nearly keening for your touch — he’d nearly do anything you want for one touch, one drop of your blood, but he can’t — he can’t, “do you need water? What do you need?” And you’re helping him sit down on the floor of the conference room, as he clutches his bag to his front, desperate for something put between the two of you. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I needed, just go,” he’s pleading, head falling back against the wall — his mind is hazy, he can barely think about anything else but you — the way your soft lips are pursed in worry, the way your hands are so gentle against his skin and would feel so good gliding across his body, the way when he saw the multitudes contained within your eyes, but he only wanted to live in the warmth of your loving gaze, “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

The words come as a confession, a last plea for you to leave, but you seemingly only chuckle, furrowing your brow, “how could you hurt me when you’re more terrified than I am?” 

And oh you were so ignorant that you were inches away from a monster — a rabbit in a lion’s den, while you thought of him as a sheep — and his words weren’t enough to convince you, but maybe something else would. 

His eyes flutter open to find your own, and he finds his own reflection in your irises — a blood red reflected back in your lovely gaze, as your mouth falls open, brow wrinkled, and breath caught. 

“I-I-what?” and he sees your confusion written across your face, your fingers shaking as they brush against his cheek. Your touch sets his senses alight, a soft groan as he leans into your hand, his nose brushes against your wrist, and the thrum of your pulse ringing in his ears. His gaze finds yours — half moonshine with how it’s glazed over, “how?” 

And his lips part, when your thumb drags down his cheek, hypnotized and entranced under a spell he didn’t mean to cast. He turns his head so your fingers catch on his lips, parting almost obediently, flashing fangs that has a flicker of confusion swallowed by horror and then consumed by fascination completely. 

“Choso, what is—“ 

“You should go,” he murmurs again, “you can’t give me what you need,” 

And you’re speechless, as if you wonder if you’re seeing what you are — but the longer you stare, the quicker it seems to sink in. You swallow. 

“So you need my—“ and the sentence is cut off seemingly by the absurdity of the situation, as you mutter to yourself, “this can’t be fucking real,” 

“It doesn’t have to be, you can leave right now,” he pants, sweat slipping down his forehead, and you’re still frowning. 

“What will happen to you if I leave?” And he can’t think straight enough to lie, your fingers find his neck, to check his temperature but all it does is drive it higher. 

“Nothing you need to worry about—“ 

“Well, I am worried,” you cut him off, squirming in place, “if you just take some of my blood, will that—“ 

“It’s not just that,” he’s shaking his head, fangs nearly grazing his bottom lip as he sighs, “do you know what your blood will do to me?” His eyes seem to flash, a chill down your spine, “but more importantly worry what it will do to you,” 

And you stiffen, the spell waxing and waning as fickle as the moon never was, and that the thing about humans — you could never count on them to be consistent as all other things were. A beast can be predicted — their moves largely the same, caution put before hurt, but man gained consciousness and lost all reliability. 

And you were no beast, not like him. 

“What would…it do?” Your words are hesitant, carefully chosen, small jumps across stones rather than a leap across a rushing river. 

And he lets the raging white water brush against your skin when his hand cups your chin, leaning closer and letting his breath warm your skin, “To reduce the pain, my bite is like an aphrodisiac,” his thumb rubs back and forth across your cheek, “you won’t be able to stop yourself, and since your blood would do the same to me — I wouldn’t be able to help myself either,” his nose brushes against your cheek, as he leans in to whisper in your ear, “you should go.” 

But you don’t, silence settles over the two of you, until you choose to break it,  “I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

That’s what you had said — but how did that land you here? 

You both walked to your hotel room in silence, his flushed face hidden behind a mask, dead on his feet as he trailed behind you to the room. It was lucky you had a room right across the street from your workplace. You didn’t know what you would have done if you had to stay in the office — the blood would have been hell to scrub off the wood. 

And now here you sat after your shower, hair still damp as you toyed with the edge of your fluffy bathrobe, as you chewed on your lip. What had you gotten yourself into? You listened to his shower run, a sigh on your lips — it was fine. It would be fine. You just stick to the plan. You’d let him drink your blood, and he would lock himself in the bathroom — and you both would ride out your…symptoms alone. 

Fuck, you bury your face in your hands, what the hell are you doing? And that’s when the water stops — the quiet rustle and shuffling of himself in the bathroom makes your heart leap into your throat, as you sit looking down at the floor. 

“Are you okay?” his voice makes you jump even as you expect it, as your head snaps back to look at him. His black hair still wet from his shoulder, long locks clinging to his hair, droplets ran down his bare abs, your eyes following one down right to his happy trail only hidden away by his boxers— 

Fuck. 

He only continues to towel himself off, before grabbing his undershirt to pull it over his torso, as you choose to avert your eyes then — as if him getting dressed was any more scandalous than his shirtless state, “I am, I’m just a little—“ 

“You don’t have to,” and your eyes slide back to him, his face was still significantly ragged, dark bags and fatigue  clung to body worse than the water did — looking more like a corpse than a bloodsucker, “it’s not too late for you to leave—“ 

“No I decided I was going to help, so I’m going to,” you say, and his brow forms the same peaks and valleys he had all day — and you were sure his skin would remember the carvings at this rate, “what?”

“Why do you want to help me?” he mumbles, arms crossed, a distinct flush in his cheeks settling that surely wasn’t just from his shower, “I don’t get it, we barely have spoken—“ 

“We have spoken, our first week,” and his eyes snap to yours, “you may not remember, but you helped me,” and your cheeks burned, squirming in place as you couldn’t quite meet his gaze, “I had messed up on a project, I made a huge mistake on a document, one that could have costed the company a lot of money, and my job,” you murmur, “but you also took responsibility, even though it wasn’t your fault,” 

“I didn’t catch the mistake either, so it was my fault too—“ and you shake your head. 

“It was mostly mine still,” you offer a small smile, “and so if I can help you like this, I want to,” you shift, swallowing as an awkward silence falls over you both that you break, “why did you want to shower first anyway? You were ready to pass out earlier,” 

“I still am,” he admits, and you notice the subtle shake of his hands, “but I figured the shower would make us both feel a little more comfortable, and it helped to…calm me down,” he cleared his throat, and it slowly dawned on you, cheeks burning, “again, are you sure—“

“I’m going to close you off in the bathroom, and we should be able to ride it out — you said you don’t lose control of yourself or become violent,” and he shakes his head, “then it should be fine,” you have him draw closer, his soft steps against the plush carpet fell silent as he sat beside you on the bed. The creak of the bed as he sat on the other side a little awkwardly, “you should be closer,” and he’s nodding, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

“I know, I’m just trying to…prepare,” he gives a shaky sigh, “your scent is—“ he scrubs a hand down his face, “it’s hard for me to be around, especially when we’re so close,” 

“My scent?” And his hand covers the bottom half of his face, turned away, as he murmurs. 

“Your scent is particularly strong — it’s…enticing enough for me to be distracted all day if I don't keep my distance,” and the pieces sink into place. 

“You avoided me at work because of that?” And he nods, as you bite your lip, a small chuckle on your lips, “I thought you hated me,” 

And his head snaps to you, blinking, “I don’t hate you far from it—“ he cuts himself off, his fingers grip the edge of the bed, “I’ve seen you in the office — you’re always so considerate, kind, and you always try to help, even people who don’t deserve it—“ he cuts off, “I don’t want to take advantage of your—“ 

You move closer, his breath hitching as you shrug your robe off your shoulders, leaving only your bra covering your chest, “You do deserve it,” Fuck, he was so close — you could feel the need come off of him in waves, the soft pants of his breath as his eyes fluttered. And you offer your neck to him, brushing your hair away — a silent offer. 

You see him bite his lip out of your periphery, but he’s leaning down, warm breath fans across your skin, as he ran a finger down your neck, “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice a raspy whisper, “you smell so good,” and you nearly shiver as his lips brush your skin — soft lips against your skin, the barest brush, as if he’s trying to acclimate you to his touch. But it only stoked a fire — the same flame burning even before today, the one that wanted more than a bite at the apple — you wanted him down to his core. 

His lips press another kiss to your neck, lingering longer, as he noses the skin there, and you’re biting your lip, the want bubbling into boiling need, “Please—“ you gasp as his fangs graze your neck now, the sharp points lightly dragging across the muscle, right before his fangs sink into your neck. 

Your lips part, head nearly lolling back into his warm palm cupping the nape of your neck. Any pain only registers for a split second before disappearing under whitehot pleasure. Your blood turns to heady wine straight from his bite, his muffled moan vibrates against you, sending a wave of heat right between your thighs. Your head spins, all logic melts with as the wildfire only consumes — leaving only want behind. 

Coherent thoughts don’t form — instead fractured thoughts spiral into a chant. You want more. You want more of his touch, his body, his words. You want him. 

You want him. 

And when he’s pulling his fangs from your neck, the sound of his teeth pulled from your skin only rings in your ears for a moment, before blood roaring in your ears replaces it. Burning — it felt as if every part of your body was aching, a deep throbbing with no end in sight. You glance at Choso — and only one cure. 

Fuck, his skin looks so lovely when flushed a pretty pink — nearly a scarlet that lit a trail up his neck and across his cheekbones all the way to his ears. The heavy pants that left his lips did little to assuage the desire for him — his defined chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his long jet black locks hanging like a curtain around his gaze. 

Your fingers are reaching for him, “Cho—“ and he’s shaking his head, as his muscles tense, as he leans away from you. 

“Give me a moment,” so you do — you pull back, and he’s rising to his feet, shaky still, but seemingly for a different reason as he turns and flashes the rising tent in his boxers. 

And you press your thighs together, wondering just how big he was — eyes fixed on the growing damp spot on his boxers — how he would shiver when you squee3/ him at the base in your hand, what sounds he would make when you’d flick your tongue against his weeping tip, and how he would moan your name when he sunk into you— 

You were so fucked — if your drenched panties were anything to judge by. 

“Choso, please—“ and he already knows what you’re asking for between the lines of your plea, and his eyes find yours, his dark gaze catches yours, ensnared in the blackhole that only pulls you under and apart, pinned underneath him. 

“It’s just the bite, we can’t,” he’s covering his lips, as he takes steps away from you, towards the bathroom, “we just have to wait until it passes. It won’t take too long—” 

“What if it’s not just your bite? Not for me,” you murmur, and the words are being spilled from your lips like honeyed truth with no bitter aftertaste, “it hasn’t been for me,” his brow is furrowing as if he can’t imagine a single person liking him, “I’ve spent the last year working with you and all i know is I wanted nothing more than to be the one you smile at — the same soft way you do when you your little brother visits you at work,” 

And he’s swallowing, a deeper blush on his cheeks, “you noticed?” 

“I also noticed how you always bring the person you work with their favorite coffee order, the way you try to make others feel valued when the company doesn’t even do it, and how you always do your best — even when it comes at your own expense,” it’s so easy to say these things, but it only makes you long for him more, “let me do more — let me take care of you—“ 

And he’s covering his mouth with his forearm, “do you know what you’re saying?” you slowly get up from the bed, taking careful steps towards him, “our heads are clouded, we aren’t—“ and he swears under his breath but he doesn’t resist your approach, the bathroom door right behind him, “I don’t want to hurt you—“ 

“Do you feel the same for me?” and his gaze softens as he meets yours, “because I get the feeling you do — at least you like my scent,” a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, “hopefully not just my scent?” 

And you didn’t know it was possible for a vampire to be this pink in the face, but Choso was — and you weren’t sure if it was your words or your closeness, “It’s not just your scent,” he’s mumbling against his arm until he’s pulling it away, to reveal his lips colored a faint scarlet from your blood, “I have feelings for you — I have for a while,” 

God, he was fun to tease, “What’s a while?” you’re murmuring, his lips part, flashing his fangs while he does. His eyes avert from your face, only to land on your neck, grazing over the bite mark he left, and you decide to spare him, “but if it’s been a while for you and for me, then—” he’s shivering again, a sigh caught in his throat, muscles tensed as if he was a tiger ready to pounce. 

“It’ll be hard to stop once we start — we should think—“ your fingertips brush his cheek, his eyes falling shut at your touch, the want inside you only grew, as you felt him lean into you. 

“Who said we’re going to stop?” and he breaks, his hand is sliding around your waist, tugging you closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his words nearly muttered against it. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I am—” and that’s all he needed. 

In a flash you’re pinned on the bed, blinking as you glance at the spinning ceiling fan for a moment before he’s leaning over you. 

His eyes are tinted with red and laced with desperation, fangs flashing as his fingers cup your chin and he leans down, “I’ll show you how much I like you, pretty girl.” 

“Oh, Cho-so,” your arms are wrapped around his torso, pulling him impossibly closer, his hot tongue dragging up the side of your neck, licking at the rivers of blood dripping down, “fuck, please—“ 

“Can’t waste a single drop, not when you taste so good,” he’s murmuring, nearly hypnotized by your taste — his sticky saliva and your blood mixed together, “fuck, I could kiss every inch of you and it wouldn’t be enough,” 

“Please, I need more,” and he’s chuckling, nibbling at the base of your neck, a whine parting your lips that made him nearly bust a nut then and there, “please—“ 

And his lips find yours in a searing kiss, fangs lightly biting your bottom lip, swallowing your gasps with a smirk, and how is it possible your lips are even sweeter? It was as if you were made of molasses, and he was more than happy to indulge. He parts your lips, dragging a thumb down your kiss bitten lips, your saliva clinging to his skin. 

“You know how long I wanted this? Had to touch myself in the shower to stop myself from pinning you the moment we entered the room,” he murmurs, recalling how his fingers had reached for his cock, already nearly covered in pre, his thumb running across his slit was nearly enough to make him burst. But it paled in comparison to the sight of you, disheveled under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure, chest rising and falling fast, and your lips nearly begging him to kiss you again and again, “and now I want to take my time, love,” but he doesn’t, instead he bends down again, to nip and suck marks all over your skin, savoring the drops of blood he steals from each one — a constellation dotting your neck and collarbone to remind anyone that you were his. And his fingers find yours, just as he was yours. 

And you whimper, as he kisses his way down your arm, sweet pecks dotting down, until he reaches your wrist. He noses it, feeling the rush of your pulse underneath your skin, the sweet scent of your blood clouded his mind, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, as he flashes a gaze upward for your silent permission. You nod. 

Your nod was all he needed, before his fangs sinks into your wrist. It was potent — you were potent rather — he had grown used to his normal supply of blood, blood that he had acquired through the proper channels, and though it quenched his thirst, it never satisfied it. 

You were more than satisfaction itself — you were ecstasy incarnate, and he was utterly addicted from the moment he had his lips pressed against your lovely skin. Scarlet dripped from the bite and the corners of his mouth — the blood flooded his mouth, an unending pool of need that only grew with each second. 

And as he pulled away, blood dripping from his lips, he watched your eyes flutter open, legs spread for him, as he licked his lips clean. 

“Such a waste to let even a single drop go,” he drags his tongue up the rivulets of blood that ran down your wrist, and a whimper escapes your lips, and his lips curl, “what do you want, love? Tell me,” 

And you’re biting your lip, averting your gaze, but he’s guiding it back to his, “Choso, please, I need you to touch me,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, “please—“ 

He pulls your hand away, and kisses your lips again in a bruising kiss, before he’s pressing sweet kisses down your body, easing the straps of your bra down. He kisses the swell of your breasts, one after the other, making you squirm in place.

“Pretty girl,” he’s murmuring, his lips kissing each one of your erect nipples, caught in a thick haze of lust, “so good for me,” and he’s lighting a trail of kisses down your body, and he’s resisting the urge to mark up every inch of you — no, there would be time for that later, his eyes flicking up to meet your half lidded gaze, “gonna be good for me?” His skillful fingers slide under the elastic of your panties, snapping the fabric against you, making you gasp, “either way, I might just eat you up,” 

A shaky chuckle escapes your lips, “Promise?” And he chuckles, as he’s spreading your lips, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, before running over the mark with his tongue, before his fingers are running over your drenched panties, and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your plush thigh, but no — he’s carefully tugging down your underwear down your legs — he had to stay focused. 

His breath catches at the sight of your dripping cunt and swollen clit, glistening with your juices that told him just how much you wanted this — and it was enough to nearly have him cumming in his boxers. And then the sweet scent of your precum becomes too much for him—

And he can’t wait. 

His tongue flicks against your clit, making a squeal escape your lips, fingers finding purchase in the long strands. It’s too good — judging by the way your hips nearly rut into his lips, while your own moans his name. But it was even better for him, as he groans against your pussy, licking the pre sticking to his lips. 

“How do you taste so good? Sweetest thing I’ve tasted, as good as every part of you,” 

You gasp when his fingers spread your folds, “Cho—“ and he’s circling a tip of one of his lithe fingers around your entrance teasingly. 

He hums lightly, “Can’t decide whether I want to use my fingers or my mouth, love,” he murmurs in contemplation, whilst his tongue teases your needy clit, “what do you think, baby?” 

“I need you—anything—“ and he’s licking a stripe up your sweet pussy, before he’s sinking a finger into your fluttering walls, “Choso—fuck—“ and the wet squelch of your cunt and the feel of your fluttering walls around his digit makes his dick twitch in his boxers, “s’good,” 

And you’re melting into his touch, your juices soaking his fingers and wrist as he fucks you with his finger, knuckle deep in your warm walls, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. 

And you’re so sensitive, every move of his finger has your walls squeezing him tight, his other hand sneaking into his boxers to palm at his erection, “Cho, I need more—“ and he’s adding a second finger to the first, fucking you deep until he finds that spot — and that’s enough for you to fall apart. 

You cum, back arching as you do, stars bursting behind closed eyes, as you moan his name. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, walls fluttering around his fingers, thighs tensing around his hand. You come down from your high, chest nearly heaving from your pants, as he eases his fingers from your pussy. A soft sigh leaving your throat as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

Your eyes flutter open to see Choso licking his fingers clean — still sticky with your release — fangs flashing with the part of his lips, and you shiver at the sight. He’s leaning back down, pressing kisses to your thighs, before his tongue drags up your leaking pussy, making you gasp. 

“Please, Choso—fuck—“ and he’s smirking, glancing up with lips glossy with your release, placing a chaste kiss to your puffy clit, your eyes falling to his hand palming his boxers, “let me touch you—“ 

“Not yet, baby,” his tongue circles your slit, circles growing faster before sinking into your insides, nose bumping against your swollen clit, as he laps at your messy slit, “not until I’ve swallows every drop of you,” his fangs pinch at your clit. 

It’s already too much for you — your second orgasm sneaks up on you — a coil wound tight as he slurps and sucks at your cunt, all too eager to taste every last drop. And oh, he does — until he uses his thumb to rub at your clit, and it’s too much—

You squirt all over his face, soaking his face and fingers with your release, his lips more than eager to lap up every drop of it. Even as he pulls away, your cum is dripping down his chin, his dark eyes lidded as he looks up at you. 

And he can’t wait anymore—he needs to sink his dick into you. He’s licking his chin clean, pussydrunk on your cum, as he smashes lips to yours. Your moan is stifled as you taste yourself on his lips, tongue sneaking into your mouth as you part them for him. You hear the shift of the sheets as he tugs his boxers down, pulling his lips away only to finish kicking them off. 

But that’s not what you were looking at. 

Fuck, he was huge — his engorged tip was a deep red, large pearly beads of precum dripping down, while the rest of him was flushed a lovely pink. The veins that went along his length made gou tempted to trace them, mapping out his cock until you remembered every inch. You were hypnotized as your fingers reached for him, thumb flicking against his slit, before grasping at his base. 

He gasps, head lolling back, as you spread the pre along his length, beginning to pump him, “Fuck, so good for me, baby,” he’s covering his lips, cheeks flushed to match his cock, “please, I won’t last—“ and he nearly blows his load when your mouth sucks at the tip, before sliding his dick past your lips. your tongue tracing along the veins.

And a whine leaves his throat, as you start to bob along his length, spit and precum dripping down the corners of your mouth as you messily sucked at him. His hips jerk, as his fingers thread into your hair, tip brushing against his throat, it’s almost too much. 

He’s easing you off his cock with a tug of your hair, your lips parting with a pop, strings of saliva and precum connecting your mouth to his dick. And god, he wants nothing more then to pump his cock and let him spill all over your face. 

But no, no, he rather spill inside you. 

In an instant he’s gotten you onto your back,  the head of his cock brushing against your dripping cunt. He’s dragging the head of his dick against your dripping folds teasingly, making you squirm. 

“Please,” you’re whining, drawing a soft chuckle from him, as he’s lining himself up, groaning in unison as his tip bumps against your slit, “fuck, Choso, I need you—“ 

And he obliges, sinking into you inch by inch, a grunt from his mouth, “Already trying to swallow me whole, love? No need for that — I’m already giving it to you,” the delicious stretch of your warm walls pull him in deeper, stretching as he works himself inside your cunt, “so tight, baby,” and he’s finally bottoming out — cock twitching against your sweet cunt. 

He’s reaching places you didn’t think were possible, his 

You were far too tempting, “Please, Cho, please move—“ your words cut off with a gasp as his lips against your neck again, fangs piercing your skin as he bites you, right as he starts to slowly fuck into you. 

White hot pleasure rips up your spine — the bite and the way his cock fucks you enough for you to already cum around him, your mouth parted in moans, as your walls clamp down on him. He’s sucking greedily at your blood, and he wasn’t sure what was better, the way your sweet blood tasted against his tongue, or the way your release squelched around his dick, as he fucked it. And he barely registers that his cock is growing larger against your spasming pussy, but you sure do, as you moan his name. 

“S’big, Choso, too big,” you’re whining, as his hand presses against your lower half only to feel a slight bulge, and he only makes him want to thrust harder, too far gone to think — only one thought circling the drain of his pin sized perspective — that he wanted to fill you up, 

“Cho-so, please—“ and he doesn’t know what you’re asking him, to slow down or to go faster, as he pulls his fangs from you. And he could cum just looking at you — your forehead slick with sweat, while scarlet rivulets of your blood ran down the side of your neck, eyes blown out in such lust — and everything about your body begging him to fuck you more.  

“S’pretty for me, baby,” as he fucks you through your orgasm, another building in its place, as he watches his cock piston in and out of your fluttering cunt. And it feels too fucking good. And he’s leaning back down to lick up the blood staining your neck, as he gives a particular hard thrust that has you seeing stars, and he knows you’re close—and he knows he won’t last much longer — not with the way your vice grip cunt is squeezing around him. 

But you’re confirming it with your moans, filling his ears along with the lewd noises of skin slapping together, “I’m close—I’m—“ and he’s grunting in agreement, as his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, only to pull a breath away to ask: 

“Where?” And the flutter of your walls that pulls him impossibly deeper tells him the answer, but you reply with words as well.  

“Inside, please, need to feel you fill me—“ you cum then and there, words cut off with a moan of his name, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. His thrusts stutter as he grows close, before groaning and pressing another kiss to your lips, biting your bottom lip to draw blood, as he spills inside you, painting your insides with his hot release, fucking it inside you as his hips slow. 

He’s pulling away from your lips, pulling himself from inside you, a soft gasp leaving your lips, as he moans himself when he watches his seed mixed with your cum slip from your pussy. 

He’s caressing you, pressing sweet kisses to your face and neck, your quiet pants filling his ears like a metronome. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter open, lips curling slightly as you nod, a sigh on your lips. 

“I’m more than okay,” you press your lips to his again, a sweet kiss that grows more insistent as your tongue drags against the seam of his lips, before you hear a wet squelch, and your eyes open darting down to only find him stroking his cock, “Choso, are you—“ 

“Mm, the effect of your blood hasn’t quite subsided for me,” he murmurs, “but I think I can take care of it with—“ and he’s flipped onto his back, eyes blinking up as you, sitting on top of him. 

And he sees the blatant want in your gaze, as you begin to lower yourself onto his dick, a smile pulling at your lips, as your lust pulled him under and his cock inside you. 

“I told you I’d take care of you, Choso,” and you offer your neck to him again, dragging your wrist across his face, “so let me.” 

“You’ll be working with Choso again on this project,” you have to bite back your smile, when you nod, “the two of you did a good job on the last one. Thank you for the overtime you put in. It did not go unnoticed,” 

“No problem, sir, anything for the job,” and your supervisor smiles, as you turn to leave, “I’m sure Choso would say the same,” 

“The two of you make a good team. I may pair you two together more often. Is that okay? I’ll have to run it by Choso, of course,” and you nod, hand already on the door knob. 

“I’m sure he would be more than okay with that, sir.” 

“Ah, baby, please just one bite?” Choso’s got you pressed up against the conference room door, “spending all day at work with you makes me so needy,” he mumbles against your skin, as he’s already unbuttoning your button up, the shirt already creased with he’s tugging it free from your slacks, “please,” 

“Cho, you had one this morning, it’s barely lunchtime, and you’re this desperate—” and he’s grinding his tenting erection against your clothed cunt, and your hand barely is able to make it in time to stifle your moan with your fingers, “fuck, fine, one bite, but don’t make a mess, this is a white blouse, babe—” 

He’s already tugging down your shirt, wrapping his arms around his middle, as his red tinted gaze meets yours in the shaded drawn window of the conference door. And now you were sure — your coworker loved you, even when you thought he didn’t.  

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t spill a drop.” 

✧ a/n: this fic was weirdly hard to write. i was very stuck for a while. i couldn't figure out how to write it even though the idea struck me. but i hope you all enjoy <3 thank you for @laneysmusings and @gaylatteart for betaing and being the best moral support <3

✧ taglist: @yourwaifuhatesyou, @cira273, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @whereismysane, @kaedeolgy, @keirangoldenwatch, @indieotterxoxo, @mua-for-now, @b3llair3, @evieslook, @shervinss, @saltymeow77, @svt-backup, @dazailover1900, @kentocalls, @yamaguccitadashi, @simply-a-s1mp, @rita-ritarita, @gorepain, @jupisloveletterz, @ice-echo26, @lemonpoppy-seed, @turtletaubwrites, @complexivelovely, @tiramatsumu, @strangehuman101, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @adrenova, @chosoitos, @stonecoldsensitive, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunamatic, @maetziniscool, @muichirosbestie, @monstrousbuu, @spider-fan72, @nakariabnrb, @petalshxwer, @talkativetranscendant, @fairyxgothic, @jupisloveletterz, @crystalkat6747, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @hotcocokiss, @angstigone, @sunnykento, @dantaku

[ghost-of-a-dream-girl]

Vampiric vascular access PSA from your friendly neighbourhood fanfic writing medic: Where To Bite

For those of you who, like me, love to write/read this sad vampire (or indeed anyone who likes to write any vampire), there were just a couple of sexy little anatomy things that I wanted to highlight (purely for fun).

First: arteries vs veins - Arteries take blood at pressure generated by the left ventricle of the heart, hence the pulse, to tissues and organs. Veins are a low pressure system that take blood back to the heart (via all sorts of mechanisms like valves, suction pressure from inspiration, pressure gradients, etc). - The inherent not-quite-sexy risk to puncturing/bleeding from an artery (especially a big one) is the risk of clot formation and with that the risk that those clots travel (embolize) further down the artery. This can result in things like strokes or ischaemic limbs. - Major arteries have associated major veins running nearby them. - Because of pressure differences, arterial punctures can spurt blood out, whereas veins ooze. To drink from a vein you'd have to apply a little more suction, whereas drinking from an artery might be a bit more messy/squirty. - Sure, veins don't pulse in the way arteries do BUT the way that we find these big veins (without ultrasound) is via use of anatomical landmarks. Your fave vampire will likely know those landmarks. Durge will likely also know these landmarks...for other reasons.

The neck (the classic, and everyone's favourite) - One of the things we look for as part of a fluid status assessment/CVS exam is the JVP (jugular venous pressure), which reflects pressure changes in the right atrium. For this we look for the double waveform pulse on either side of the neck coming from the internal jugular vein. It's not really palpable in the way arterial pulses are, but it is visible in most people (especially at neck turned 45 degrees). - The internal jugular vein (IJV) AND the external jugular vein are the two chunky veins of the neck. The IJV in particular would be a good one to bite for the same reason it's often a favourite vein to use for central line insertion- it's large, superficial, and usually pretty straight in its course within the neck. - The carotids are the major arteries of the neck, sitting more in the midline and protected a bit by a muscle there (sternocleidomastoid).

The inner thigh (the smut writer's favourite) - Gods know that the femorals have been doing some heavy lifting in vampire smut fics. Given the fact that they are located on either side of the groin, any biting action there has the inference of a lot more physical intimacy. - Like the neck vessels, you have big arteries AND big veins in the femoral region too. You have the femoral arteries which lie again more in the centre (like the carotids), and you have the femoral veins which actually lie more medially (more towards the mid-line of the body, i.e further in on the groin). These then branch out. - For purposes of vampiric vascular access, the femoral veins would be just a bit easier to get into position wise, but they do run very close to the femoral arteries. Because of how anatomy and fat distribution works also worth mentioning that the femoral vein and artery also lie a little deeper, so would require a much deeper bite.

Peripheral pulses (for those little nibbles) - For a quick snack more peripherally, it's going to be much easier to chomp into a peripheral artery. Arteries have thicker, more muscular walls than veins and the more superficial veins get the flimsier they are (i.e would be bitches to try to puncture with fangs). - We often sample arterial blood by puncturing the radial arteries. The radial artery runs on the thumb side of the wrist, and is very easy to palpate! - One could also attempt the brachial arteries, which are just above the inside of either elbow. A little deeper, but still palpable. - For the more adventurous bloodsuckers, you could even go for the dorsalis pedis (top of the foot), or the posterior tibial (below and behind the innermost part of the ankle bone)! See below: Astarion sampling a little of that radial artery juice

Aftercare (for the bitten) - If you are biting an artery or big vein you will usually need to apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. - In terms of clotting, it depends on what magical properties you believe vampire spit has. If none, it generally takes a few minutes to stop bleeding with a bit of added pressure, but bigger puncture sites may take longer. - That said, all bleeding stops eventually in one way or another- just ask Durge. - Like always, after a big drink you may need to ask your cleric friend to help you out with a cheeky lesser restoration spell to stimulate erythropoeisis so you're not wandering around the Realms so deeply anaemic.

Happy biting, friends!

[gaypirate420]

Sleepy // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x AFAB!reader

Summary: Jasper's night hunger.

Smut. Consensual Somnophilia. Fluff. Soft!Dom!Jasper. Inappropriate use of vampire gift. Scent kink. Fingering. Creampie. Aftercare.

The night breeze made his yellow hair fly delicately. His silent steps approached a specific home in Forks, one that always had the window of the second floor opened.

Jasper slides inside like a cat luring around for shelter and food.

His golden eyes soften at the sight.

Your body is all wrapped up with blankets, he closes the window so you can be warmer tonight.

Jasper leans closer and can't help but drown on your scent.

His gentle lips brush against your cheek, you shiver and mumble.

"...cowboy?" You speak softly as your hand tries to find his in the dark.

"Yes, darlin' thought I gave you a little visit." The blonde whispered against your ear as he takes your hand and kisses your palm.

"What hour-"

"Shhhh don't open your eyes, dove, it's too early, you need to rest." Jasper whispers once more and places a finger on your lips, he uses his discreet gift to keep you calm and sleepy.

The vampire takes on your image once more and a smiles, his cold finger caress your bottom lip. Jasper chuckles softly at you already nodding to his non spoken request, you know him too well.

His cold lips meet yours in a soft and gentle dance. His hand wandering around your neck, tracing your artery down your collarbone and sliding into the warm blankets that cover you up, you gasp at the sudden cold feeling of his hand.

"Can I, darlin'? Just need you so bad." He whispers and kisses your jaw. You nod once more.

"Just....Jaspy.." You mumble, you look almost sedated from his ability, he notices this and reduces it a notch, feeling a little embarrassed about going all the way with it.

"Jaspy..." You call again feeling more aware of your surroundings, he hums against your skin as he leaves soft kisses along the length of your neck.

".... don't wanna...rough...gentle... please?" You asked sleepy, Jasper smiles and nods.

"Of course, sugar. Everything ya want. I'll ask something in return, can I?" He whispers against your ear, making you moan softly.

"....I'll be quiet, sir." You cut him off, the vampire chuckles again and rewards you with a slow and sensual kiss.

His hands travel down your chest as he slides under the covers with you.

You shiver as his cold hands hold your thighs, sliding down your shorts to reveale that you're not wearing underwear.

"Oh...someone was waiting for me." He purrs against you, leaving a tender kiss on your neck, making you moan in embarrassment.

His fingers trace circles on your thighs. You groaned loudly.

"Shhhh, you said you will be quiet, darlin'." He whispers against your chest as his lips traveled down your collarbones and his hands got rid of your shorts.

You mumbled an apology in your sleepy state, he smiles and his fingers caress the inside of your thighs. Your shy and small moans makes him more hungry.

The vampire groans against you, his heavy breath crashing against your skin as he takes on your sweet scent. You seem delicious lying so defenseless on your bed, he can feel the blood pumping through your veins and it's smell alongside with the creams you use for your night routine.

You are appetizing.

Your unconscious form makes out the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his pants being pulled down.

Jasper takes your hand and makes it touch his hard cock, you blush intensely as your hand takes a shy hold of it.

"Look at what you're doing to me, sweetheart." He mutters against your ear, making your sking crawl and a small moan leave your lips.

"It's only fair you take care of it, isn't it? I'm going to lose control and you wouldn't like that, would you? Leaving me all needy." Jasper keeps whispering.

The blonde smiles and kisses you check sweetly, you turn so he kisses your lips instead, Jasper chuckles and locks his lips with yours.

"You're not that cruel to me, are ya? To leave me like that." He whispers once more and you shake your head once. You need him as much as he needs you. You're as equally, if not more, desperate than him.

His pale fingers slowly make their way in between your thighs, caressing your already wet pussy.

You moaned at the sensation, you warm walls and his cold fingers make you shiver once more.

Jasper kisses your jaw and nuzzles on your neck as his fingers start making a slow movement on your clit. A moan leaves your lips as he slowly gets comfortable with it.

He rests his head on your chest, hearing your heart beating faster and faster with each gentle stroke.

And finally he buries two fingers inside your warm wall, you can't help but disobey him and moan soundly, your back arching.

"No, no, no, sugar, keep your pretty mouth shut, we don't want to wake up anyone, do we?" He whispers a little more sternly, your mouth immediately went shout, you tried to drown your moans.

You hold onto his free hand, he smirks and caress your skin with his thumb.

"Shhhh, quiet, sweetness. You do sound like you're having fun. Am I making you feel good, darling?" He asks with a much sweeter voice, you nod slowly, he smiles as he sees you going in and out of your sleep.

".... please..." You whisper groggily. He hushes you again.

"I'm just preparing you. I don't want to hurt you, be patient." Jasper explains and leaves a kiss on your forehead as he buries his fingers deeper into you.

He releases his aching member from his boxers, the vampire groans softly and rubs it against your clit in a teasing manner.

You moan again, your legs shaking in anticipation. You're not exactly awake and you don't want to either, it makes it more fun. He takes your legs and spreads them a little more, he doesn't want to bend you like he normally do because you look so peacefully asleep like this.

Jasper moans against your ear as he slowly introduces himself into you. You feel a tingly sensation on your stomach when his soft whimpers fills your ears.

He catches up a nice and steady rhythm as he pounds on you, you feel your body shake with the movement but that doesn't seem to wake you up.

The vampire buries his cock deeper, his hips clashing with yours as a louder moan leaves his lips, he mumbles against you how good you feel around him, how perfect you are, praising your body.

He's already pussy drunk.

"Oh, darling, nghhhh, oh, s-so good, you feel so good, nghhh, please, need more." He mumbles against you as he starts going faster and deeper on your, you moan loudly and feel your eyes flutter open for a couple of seconds.

Jasper keeps his rhythm, his dick twitching against you, making you gasp in pleasure.

"Nghh, I-I-inside...wanna cum inside you.... please, please." Jasper begs against your skin, you nod and kiss his trembling lips.

He finishes rather quickly but he has no shame about it. You feel too good. With a long and delicious moan for his part, the vampire fills you with his seed untill you're dripping.

"Ngh...god...t-thank you, sugar." He takes a second to let you breath and calm down, watching your chest rise and fall with each deep but shaky breath. He kissed your cheek tenderly.

"Want me to make you-"

"...just... wanna sleep....cuddle..." You speak before he finish his sentence, Jasper nods and pulls away. You whine.

"S-stay... please..." You mumble as your eyes close again.

"Let me clean us, I'll be right back, dove." He spokes softly as he grabs a wet cloth to clean you up. When he returns from your bathroom he find you curled up like a kitten and in a deep slumber.

Jasper smiles and takes in the image before cleaning you, leaving kisses in between your thighs and sweet caresses.

The vampire wraps you in your blankets and holds you close to his chest.

"I love you so much, my darlin'." He whispers before cupping your face and leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Tomorrow is going to be a perfect day, he's going to spoil you and pamper you all day, cook for you and give you so much cuddles and kisses to compensate the interruption of your sleep.

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

A/N: So....how ya like it? Sorry for being away so long, I'm been very busy but hopefully I'll have some free time to work on requests and all that, sorry. In the meantime have this! Also, yes, the Halloween special is going to probably come out on Christmas.

[steviewashere]

Had an idea, half-wrote a fic. (as I do) CW ahead: Negative Stimming, Self-harm via Stimming, Mild Disassociation, Meltdown

Autistic Steve Harrington who hates horror movies because they're so loud and so unexpected and all it does for him is trigger a meltdown rather than any sort of pleasure. He hates loud noises, hates being startled, hates things being unexpected. Finds it hard to listen to Eddie's music sometimes, just solely based on how loud it is.

He can't take terribly long drives in traffic because of the intensity of all the sounds: birds above, cars ahead, honking and tires squealing, people yelling out their windows. Hates having his radio on louder than like volume level 5.

And one day, after forcing himself through a horror movie at the theater with Eddie (because Eddie loves them), he's driving them back. But there's long lines of traffic that make his car feel claustrophobic and his chest heavy. The radio is only a tad louder than normal, playing some Metallica tape—one that he enthused about because Eddie made him believe it was good, and it is, it is it is it is—

But it's all too much.

Cut to him weaving dangerously through traffic, wholly unlike him, heart racing so hard he thinks he can feel his blood traveling through his arteries, his veins. The car is swerving and his foot is on the pedal, no real destination in mind other than out and away. He's cutting in and out of his own body, trying to just slither away from the way his skin is riddled with goosebumps and trying to shed in huge flakes around him. He's tired and he's drawn and he's trying, damnit he's trying to hold himself together.

He pulls to the side of the road, into some half-full parking lot, away from other customers. And slams on the brakes so hard that Eddie flings forward a little in the passenger seat, almost collides with the dashboard. But Steve is so out of it he doesn't even realize, doesn't even recognize the recklessness he just put his boyfriend through. And when he can calm his breaths a bit, not very much but just enough, he finally looks to Eddie.

Eddie, who's looking at him a little like Steve's some wild animal, but so overcome with concern, it draws his features tight. "Steve?" Eddie calls out softly, too soft in comparison to himself, "you okay, baby?"

And Steve just bursts into tears, unwinding. His hands are shaking and he feels the innate urge to hurt to make the roaring inside him dwindle. And he does the only thing he knows how—emotions irregular and having been punished for it before—he cranes his neck in a nearly unnatural way, head digging into his headrest, eyes away from Eddie because he can't stomach the thought of Eddie seeing him this way, and he just bruises his own thighs with his tightly wound fists.

Eddie just does his best. He reaches over and turns the ignition off. Silences the whole car. Winds his window up, worms around to do the same to Steve's. And then he gently, still unknowing of what to do, slides his palms underneath Steve's fists. So that the next time they come down, they hit Eddie's hands instead. His face flinches minutely and his eyes begin to sting. It hurts, of course it fucking does, but he braves through it. Until Steve tires himself out, fists getting sloppy and his tears have dried. And Eddie doesn't let Steve see what he'd actually been hitting—he just curls his hands around Steve's fists, thumbs tracing over his knuckles.

"It's loud," Steve chokes out, "hate that movie."

"Okay," Eddie murmurs, taking this in stride, unquestioning. Because...well, he knows what it's like to feel singled out, unnatural about one's self. He won't make Steve feel like that, too. Won't even question what just happened. A conversation for a different time.

"Overwhelmed."

"Okay, that's okay."

Steve's fingers tighten for a moment before his hands uncurl. Gently, shakily, they take Eddie's own. His eyes are still on the ceiling of his car. Sniffles. "Freak?" he questions aloud.

"Never," Eddie swears, "that's my title and you come nowhere near it. Don't even think of touching it." He brushes his thumbs on the back of Steve's twitching hands, working their way through the aftershocks. "Let me take us home, okay?"

A moment passes. Then two. Then three.

Steve's breath shutters. He exhales easily, though. "Your bed," he says, "that's home."

And Eddie brings Steve's hands to his mouth, leaves small pecks on the backs of them. "We'll go there, baby. In your time, Steve. We'll go in your time."

"Okay."

Eddie nods, even when he isn't seen. Because Steve will know. They'll always know each other. "Okay."

———

I know I half-wrote this, but I will return to this eventually. I want to fully expand upon this idea. Just give me a minute because there's like three other fic ideas I want to do that I've posted about. My brain is endless steddie and I am soup.

[megalony]

Resemblance- Part 6

Thank you all for the amazing feedback on this Evan Buckley series, I hope you will all like this part.

As promised, I've included some fluff in this part for you all. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites

Series Taglist: @lunaroserites @swanshells @moonlovers34 @bartkevicius03 @btskzfav @papafritarancia @shortchubbybibi @essienoe

Series Masterlist

Summary: When Evan introduces (Y/n) to Eddie, she resembles someone he used to know. And he can't help himself when he's around her, leading to frightening behaviour.

Enjoy.

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

Violent tremors coursed through Evan's arms and down to his hands that were gripping the plastic frame at the end of the bed. His elbows and shoulders were locked tight while his chest was leant forwards, arching his lower back out with one leg straight and the other knee jutting forward.

He wanted to move. He didn't want to be stood at the end of the bed. He wanted to be at the side of the bed, (Y/n)'s hand locked in his while he crouched down so they were level.

He wanted to be stood at her side, trying to comfort her and make sure she was alright.

But Evan couldn't do that when two nurses and a doctor were flitting about the emergency room, bustling this way and that. The only place he could stand and be close to (Y/n) without being in the way was here, at the foot of the bed.

His head ticked to one side and his eyes followed the nurse's movements carefully.

One nurse was fiddling about putting a canula in (Y/n)'s hand to get her started on some fluids and a large dose of morphine, even though (Y/n) was still unconscious.

Evan had cleaned all the blood from her lips, chin and neck when her nosebleed finally stopped back in the apartment. He cleaned her up before the paramedics got there because he knew from experience that sat being caked in dried blood was not fun. And it was harder to clean when it dried.

But he could still see a few burnt orange streaks across her cheek that he had missed and it was bugging him.

His attention switched to the doctor and the second nurse who were getting ready to stitch (Y/n)'s leg back up. They had checked her veins and arteries, relieved none had been sliced and the bleeding had stopped due to Evan's belt around her thigh. They began swabbing and cleaning her thigh since (Y/n) was laid on her right side on the bed with her left leg tilted back towards them.

Evan hadn't expected (Y/n) to come back round yet, he thought she would stay unconscious, especially with the morphine that just got dosed into her veins. But he could see her twitching and a quiet mewl croaked past her lips as her head turned and twisted against the pillow.

He found the will to move and unlatch his fingers from the bed rail that should have been indented from the force Evan had when he gripped it.

He wove round behind the nurse until he was crouching beside the bed. If (Y/n) was waking up, Evan had to be within her sights. He had to show her that she was okay and make sure she knew she was safe and being looked after. She wouldn't want to be here thinking she was alone, she had to know that Evan hadn't left her. He would never leave her.

His arms folded over the side of the bed and he gently took (Y/n)'s right hand in his, not wanting to hold her left hand and risk moving or pulling on the canula the nurse had just taped into her vein.

He peppered a few kisses against her knuckles and reached his other hand across to slowly drag his fingers through her hair and brush it away from her temple.

"It's okay, sweetheart, you're okay."

A small slither of encouragement wormed into Evan's stomach when (Y/n) squeezed his hand. He continued to drag his fingers through her hair, darting his eyes between her face and her leg.

He could see her nose scrunching up and her lips twitching and parting every now and then as the doctor stitched up her leg. She had been given morphine and an anaesthetic injection in her leg, but she could clearly feel something, whether it was discomfort or just a light pinch, Evan wasn't sure.

He was glad when they finished that they wrapped (Y/n)'s thigh in a bandage. It would stop her from scratching it when she finally came around and stop the stitches from snagging on anything or coming loose.

A quiet murmur left (Y/n)'s lips and her arm jerked, her hand tightening around Evan's arm when she felt the nurses reaching out for her. She was finally coming back around properly.

"It's alright, you're in the hospital, sweetheart." Evan continued to hold her hand while he stood up and moved up near the top of the bed so the nurse could stand beside him.

Both nurses carefully twisted (Y/n) around until she was laid on her back. Her hand pulled on Evan's arm and her feet jolted and scraped into the bed.

Her eyes were trying to open but she couldn't quite keep them open, especially not when the bright lights shone down so powerfully it felt like she was staring into the centre of the sun.

"Is this yours?"

Evan looked away from (Y/n) to glance across at the nurse opposite him and he cringed when she held his belt out towards him. It was creased and had droplets of blood dried onto the leather.

"Yeah."

"Would you like it back?"

"…Not anymore." A shiver tore down his spine and he shook his head. He had other belts. He would buy another one if needed, but he didn't want that one back. Not when it was only going to serve as a reminder why it was stained and had creases and splits in the leather.

He began to smooth his thumb over the back of (Y/n)'s hand absentmindedly while she continued to try and wake herself up.

But he froze on the spot when she cried out. His dark blue eyes snapped down, darting up and down her frame before he realised what the nurses were trying to do.

One had a pair of scissors in her hand and the other had a fresh hospital gown ready. They were going to try and change her so they could get her onto a ward rather than keeping her down here in the emergency room.

When one of them scrunched up her shirt- which was really Evan's lounge shirt- and tried to lift it up and cut it, (Y/n) screamed. The material was already torn around her right hip, the gash was large enough that Evan could have fit his fist through the hole.

He hated the way (Y/n) yanked on his hand and coiled both her arms over her waist to try and keep the shirt on. He hated that her thighs pressed together and her knees shifted up near her stomach, trying to turn herself into an odd shape so no one could undress her.

And he hated how she screamed as her blurry eyes tried to open and look around but she was still dazed.

"No- no-"

"Baby, baby calm down you're alright-"

"Eddie s-stop!" Her words ended in a bubbling sob and her arms fought out in front of her, trying to hit them all away but she didn't have the strength or the energy to push them very far.

When Eddie's name passed her lips again and she tried to slap him, Evan couldn't fight off the tears in his eyes.

He hadn't been sure. He hadn't been certain what Eddie had tried to do tonight, partly because he had been on the other side of the door and partly because he didn't want to think that his best friend would ever do something like that. But there was no mistaking what Eddie had tried to do tonight if this was the reaction (Y/n) was having.

"Baby it's me. Shh, hey, hey it's me, you're safe, I promise. He can't hurt you." It tore Evan's heart to shreds to have to promise something like that. To promise that he wouldn't let his best friend try and attack his girlfriend again, but Evan would say and do whatever he had to if it calmed (Y/n) down.

"Evan,"

"It's me, it's me. You're safe."

Evan let go of her hand that was starting to squeeze and crush his knuckles but he was cautious when he tried to hover his hand near her jaw. He didn't want to touch her if it was going to frighten her or make her panic. He only moved his hand when (Y/n) tried to lean into the touch and when she deadlocked her fingers around his wrist.

His thumb brushed across her jaw and over her chin and he braced his other hand on the back of the bed when (Y/n) looped her other arm around his neck. A quiet "Christ." slipped passed his lips when she almost pulled him down on top of her.

She was finding strength from somewhere. She pinned his chest down against hers and Evan tucked his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and pressing a tender kiss behind her ear.

"Let the nurses sort you out, baby, then we can get you on a ward, hm?" He kissed her neck another three times before he gently unravelled her arm from around his neck.

He straightened up and gently held her hands in front of her while the nurses cut off the shirt that Evan never wanted to see again. He never wanted to see that crisp white shirt, tainted with scuff marks, ripped seams, a large hole in one side and splattered with blood down the collar and the centre. The nurses could happily bin that shirt for all Evan cared.

Evan's thumb stroked across the back of (Y/n)'s hand, but the tender look on his face quickly morphed into something cold and callous when his eyes raked up and down (Y/n)'s body.

He couldn't help but let go of her hand so his fingertips could trail across her skin.

He ran the pad of his index finger along the marks on her wrists that he had studied during the ambulance ride down to the hospital.

He moved his hands to her shoulders, noting a bruise at the base of her neck. He leaned down to look further across her body. There were scratches and bruises forming over both hips. Deep jagged lines were dragged up her thighs with little bloodwheels and spots forming just beneath the surface of her skin.

Something had happened to her left ankle which he had noticed when they got her in the ambulance. The joint was discoloured and swollen.

And when Evan pulled her hands closer to his face for inspection, he could see blood stuck beneath her nails. She had scratched Eddie to get him off her; something which clearly hadn't worked out.

He stayed frozen to the spot while the nurses carefully eased (Y/n) up so she was sitting forward, making it easier for them to slide the gown over her arms. But they didn't get to tie it up at the back, not when Evan held a hand out to make them pause.

He traced his hand over the back of (Y/n)'s shoulders, softly brushing her hair over one shoulder so he could see her neck.

She had cuts in the shape of crescent moons on the back of her neck and in her hairline. Her shoulder blades and her back were tender from being slammed into the wall. Again.

"Oh baby," His head fell down and his lips smothered the back of (Y/n)'s head, gently tugging her into his chest as both arms curved around her frame. He felt her hands clutch at his forearm that was around her chest, clinging to him like he was her lifeline and she would fade out of existence without him.

Her head turned to the right and her face smothered into Evan's bicep as he began swaying them from side to side, both to keep her calm and to stop himself from exploding.

Words formed in Evan's head but fizzled out on his tongue when he felt (Y/n) go floppy in his arms. Her head pressed harder on his shoulder and she went limp against him, swaying forward until Evan braced himself and held her up.

She'd passed out.

His hand moved from her arm to cradle the back of her neck which was undoubtedly sore from the scratch marks and bruises she had acquired. And he slowly tilted her backwards, with the help of the nurse, until she was laid down on the bed again.

At least it would be easier to transfer her up onto a ward now she was asleep again. She wouldn't panic or scream or fight them to keep Evan by her side and when she woke up, Evan would make sure he was with her so she wouldn't have to be afraid.

He pressed a tender, searing kiss to her temple while he unlatched her hands from his arm and backed up.

He mumbled a quiet "One minute," to the nurse, not that they really cared that he was leaving the room. They had to do a few more checks, take some blood and get (Y/n) hooked onto the monitors before they found a ward to tranfer her to. There was time for Evan to step out for a while.

He ran his hands up and down his neck, through his hair that was crimping into curls from sweat and heat and utter panic. His elbows pointed out at the sides and he stretched his shoulders, trying to take deep breaths as he stepped out into the hall of the emergency room.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to call Maddie, he had to tell her what was going on and get her to come down here. He needed her to keep him in check and tell him what to do and comfort him.

He was seconds away from taking his phone out of his pocket when he looked down the hall and saw Bobby.

Bobby had gone in the second ambulance with Eddie, along with Athena because they needed to keep an eye on him.

The further Bobby dragged Eddie away from (Y/n), the louder he screamed and the more he writhed in his arms. He had been sobbing when Evan climbed into the ambulance with (Y/n) and it took all his willpower not to go over and slap Eddie. He had no right to be crying and calling out for his dead wife after going and attacking Evan's girlfriend like that.

He dropped his arms from his neck and rolled his shoulders before he headed down the hall. His steps shuffled across the polished floor and he barely picked his feet up, becoming more and more sluggish the closer he got to his Captain.

"Buck, how is she?"

Evan was getting more and more used to the look of panic and relief swirling around in Bobby's eyes. The amount of times Bobby had come to Evan's rescue or come to the hospital to see him and look after him, the relief in his eyes was almost second nature now.

And it was such a comfort to have Bobby wrap him up in a hug and take some of his weight for him. He let Evan drop against him and cling to him like he needed Bobby in order to breathe and just exist.

When they pulled back, Evan slid his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders up until Bobby reached out for his shoulders and gently gripped them until Evan relaxed again.

"Stitched up and passed out. They're gonna move her onto a ward, and get her some antibiotics since she aspirated back at the apartment."

Although (Y/n) hadn't aspirated a lot, she had still gotten some blood into her lungs and choked. They needed to give her some antibiotics to be safe in case she got an infection, that would the the cherry on top of the cake.

"I wouldn't say that's good, but it's a relief." Bobby couldn't say he was glad about that news, but it was relieving to know (Y/n) wasn't in such a bad state that she had to stay in the emergency room or go to the ICU. Going onto a ward was better, it meant she might not be in here for long and that she didn't have extensive injuries or problems.

"What about him? Is he still crying?" The cynical tone to Evan's voice matched the snide remark that fell past his lips before he could stop himself.

He watched Bobby arch a brow, not looking very amused, but he didn't make a remark. He could hardly chide Evan when he had every reason to be furious and irritated and cynical with and about Eddie.

"He's calming down. He doesn't need to be admitted onto a ward but they won't release him until his bloods come back clear and he's sobered up."

"Where is he?"

"Cubicle two, the nurse gave him something to calm him down. Buck, they're waiting for someone to come and give him an evaluation… they'll keep him on a seventy-two hour psyche hold if they have to."

The silence behind Bobby's words spoke volumes. There were so many different points hidden beneath his words.

If Eddie failed the evaluation and went on a psyche hold, he would be kept in the hospital against his will.

Evan would have to become Chris's guardian until Eddie was let back out again. Bobby would have to put this on Eddie's record down at the station and he would have to suspend Eddie from duty until the department could evaluate him for themselves and decide whether he was fit for duty or not.

This evaluation meant that Evan couldn't go into that room and aggravate Eddie. Winding him up or arguing with him would break Eddie even further and could send him into the state that got him detained here.

"Maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing."

Evan wasn't sure if he meant it. He knew Eddie would break down if he had to be detained at the hospital. He would feel like the world was turning against him. Like they were turning against him. He would worry about Chris, about his family, about work, about never being let out of here. He would fret about people calling him crazy and keeping him here for even longer.

But if he stayed in hospital, they might be able to do something. They might find a therapist or a psychologist for him to talk to. They could get him in touch with someone to help him or a program he could do. They could get him on meds. Staying here would show him how close to the edge he was and the consequences of his actions.

"Well let's see what they say." Bobby gave Evan's shoulder another squeeze before the pair of them turned when they heard approaching footsteps.

Athena stepped out of Eddie's cubicle, arms folded over her chest as she took a deep breath and leaned her head to one side. Her eyes immediately landed on Evan and she rose a brow when he walked over to her.

He didn't get close to the room before Athena's hand was on his chest and her other hand was on her hip.

"If you go in there, I don't want you starting a fight Buck, I mean it. I don't want to have to call for backup and escort you out of here." The last thing Athena wanted was to have to call dispatch and ask for police assistance down to the hospital. And she didn't want to ban Evan from the hospital when (Y/n) was here and she would undoubtedly need him more than ever right now.

"Have you arrested him?" Evan hated himself for the hope that sprung into his voice.

Did he want Eddie to be under arrest? Did the police arrest people who were awaiting a psyche evaluation? Athena said earlier that she didn't want to arrest anyone and she had come down off duty to see if she could help. Had she gone and arrested Eddie for his actions tonight?

She had seen the state of (Y/n). She saw (Y/n)'s torn clothes, the cuts and bruises on her body and how Eddie had clearly hurt her. And she knew Eddie had locked her in her own apartment and wouldn't let her leave. That was harassment. He had harassed and bullied (Y/n) tonight and Athena had more than one good reason to arrest Eddie if she wanted to.

She sighed and dropped both hands to run them up and down her thighs, trying to think what to say and what to do.

"No, I haven't, not yet anyway. He's under observation from the doctor, I'm staying as a curtesy in case he plays up. It's up to you and (Y/n) whether you want to press charges, once she's awake I'll need to talk to you both and see what you want to do."

Athena took the decision not to arrest Eddie. It was too much hassle telling security that he was now under arrest and informing the doctors. She couldn't take him down to the station to get processed and interviewed and subsequently let out on bail. She couldn't do any of that when Eddie had to stay here and get checked out.

And it would be a waste of time arresting him if (Y/n) and Evan decided they weren't going to press charges, and something told her they wouldn't. It would open a new can of worms for them all.

Athena didn't arrest him, but she also couldn't leave yet. She felt a duty to stay in case Eddie lashed out at anyone else or he had a breakdown or he tried to leave if he had to be detained. He wasn't safe to be on his own after what he'd done tonight.

She would stay with Eddie while she knew her husband was going to stay with Evan and (Y/n) until they were settled or until someone else came down to stay with them.

"I need to talk to him. I won't start anything, I promise, just let me talk to him?"

"Five minutes, and I'll be standing right here the whole time."

Evan had a feeling that meant Athena would be listening in on the conversation too. As if she suspected Evan was going to taunt Eddie or wind him up or break his sanity even further.

He wouldn't.

There was no strength left in Evan to fight, not now, not tonight after what he'd seen. He was past the stage of wanting to throttle Eddie, he was beyond shouting and screaming at him or pinning him to the wall. All of Evan's energy levels had been depleted.

He wanted to clear the air, give Eddie his marching orders and then go and lay with (Y/n) until the sun rose and the world righted itself.

He nodded at Athena, gave her shoulder a light squeeze and moved past her so he could enter the single cubicle on his right.

His sights immediately set on the bed where he presumed Eddie would be, but he was surprised to find Eddie sat in one of the hard back cushioned chairs meant for family and carers.

Eddie was sat with his elbows imbedded into his thighs, his head hung low and his hands tangled together behind his head. His back was arched forward in a way that must have given him back ache and his legs were jittering up and down with nervous energy and panic and adrenaline.

Everything that had faded out of Evan's system was now flooding Eddie's body instead.

He waited, hands clenching into fists at his sides, patient enough to wait for Eddie to lift his head and realise who had come into his room. He wondered whether Eddie knew that he was going to be evaluated soon, or if he had only been told that he needed to wait to be cleared by the doctor. Evan presumed Eddie didn't know. He wouldn't be this calm if he knew there was a possibility of him being locked up on a mental health ward.

The light faded out of Eddie's eyes that became more and more rabid and dangerous the longer he stared up at Evan.

His hands started to shake and he stood up from the chair at once, unsure whether to rush forward and grab Evan or whether to run out the room or just move about and release some energy. He settled for taking one step closer and stopping immediately when Evan stepped back. Distance was their ally. Close proximity was only going to provoke Evan into doing something he shouldn't.

Dried tear tracks were glistening upon Eddie's cheeks in the hospital light and fresh tears were building up in his chocolate orbs that were finally back to a sense of normality. He no longer had pupils blown wide or so constricted he could barely see a thing. He was no longer breathing in sharp inhales and gasping or screaming his wife's name.

He almost looked back to his usual self. The alcohol must be wearing out of his system and without (Y/n) in the room, reality was consuming him again. But for how much longer, Evan couldn't be sure.

"Buck-"

"Don't talk, just listen. I asked you to get help, I begged you to see Frank or find another therapist to work through this. I told you not to go near (Y/n) but you didn't listen. Now you don't have a choice."

If Evan didn't say this now, he might not find the time, the will or the nerve. He had to talk while the thoughts were fresh in his mind and while Eddie was in a subdued enough state to hear it.

Evan wasn't going to talk to him after tonight. He had to say what was on his mind and then that was it. He was going to distance himself as much as he could until Eddie had his life and his head sorted out. There was no way Evan was going to risk (Y/n)'s safety or her wellbeing by still being around Eddie, not after Eddie had broken everyone's trust tonight.

Eddie silently nodded his head, although he didn't understand what they were talking about or what this meant. And he dreaded to find out the answers.

"You'll find a therapist, a fucking good one, or you admit yourself onto a ward, you get help and take responsibility for what you've done. You get help, and you stay away from me and (Y/n). I want nothing to do with you until you've sorted your shit out."

"Okay."

He wouldn't argue. There was nothing Eddie could say when Evan's words were reasonable. They were more than reasonable.

He was handing Eddie a lifeline and Eddie would be an utter fool if he didn't take it. There was no other choice to be made, no other way Eddie could go. He had screwed the only meaningful friendship in his life. He had fucked things up between Evan and (Y/n). He had damaged (Y/n) when that was never his intention.

He had put his job and his life at risk all because he saw something he wanted and he was selfish enough to try and take it for himself. To take her for himself.

He could find help. He could talk to Bobby and ask if Bobby could help him find a therapist that would deal with this mess, this baggage, this tattered life Eddie had destroyed. He would go to meetings and counselling everyday. He would see a doctor every week if he had to, he would do what he needed to.

"And I… I think Chris should stay with me."

"What? Buck, no- no you can't!"

Panic pulsed through Eddie's veins with every throb of his heartbeat. Every beat his heart thundered out was felt under every inch of his skin and he could hear a drumbeat throbbing in his ears.

This couldn't be part of the deal. Chris couldn't be taken away from him. Eddie was about to lose every relationship he had, but he couldn't lose Chris too. That wasn't fair. That wasn't how this was supposed to go. He would never do anything to put his son in danger. He would never hurt Chris or put him in harms way and Evan knew that. He knew that everything Eddie did was for or because of Chris.

When Eddie stepped closer, Evan fought off the urge to step back and held his hand out both as a sign to make Eddie stop and to point at him like he was suddenly a child that needed strict authority in his life.

"You put me in the will. You made Chris my responsibility too and I don't think he's gonna be okay with you."

"He's my son-"

"If (Y/n) decides to press charges against you Eddie then you've already lost him! You didn't think about Chris at all when you broke into my flat and beat up my girlfriend. If you get charged, do you honestly think social services will let Chris stay with you? He'll come stay with me or be shipped off to Texas with your parents."

This wasn't a choice Evan made lightly and it wasn't something he wanted to do, but there was no other choice.

What else could he do?

How could he be sure Chris would be safe with Eddie when tonight Eddie had proved that he had no self control left?

Eddie let himself into Evan's apartment, knowing full-well that Evan wouldn't be there and (Y/n) would. He locked her in. He attacked her, he hurt her. He got so blindly drunk that he let all his reasonings go and did whatever he wanted because he couldn't stop himself.

Who's to say that he wouldn't walk out the house one night and leave Chris alone? He could get drunk and wander off or shout at Chris in a rampage. He could have a dream about Shannon and lash out and frighten Chris. If his son knew what he had done tonight, there was no way Chris would want to stay with Eddie or be around him.

Eddie had put Evan in his will for a reason. He knew Evan would do right by Chris and would always look out for him. Evan would look out for Chris whether Eddie was in peril, dead or alive. And right now, he had to look out for the boy he classed as his nephew. He had to look out for Chris now more than ever because Eddie wasn't in the right frame of mind to do that.

"You'll take my son away from me?"

"If I have to. You need help, you're sick Eddie and if Chris stays with me or your parents then you can focus on getting better and work your shit out."

A sob broke past Eddie's lips and his shoulders quaked and his hands tangled in his hair, pulling the roots so harshly he was going to tear them free from his scalp. He couldn't do this. He lost Shannon. He lost his second chance of having her back in his life and having a family with her again. He couldn't lose Chris too.

"You- you can't do this to me! Buck you can't!" Venom dripped from his words that he spat across the room before he turned and began to pace.

He only had room to pace three feet, going from the chair towards Evan and back again. This couldn't happen. He couldn't lose everything. Shannon was gone, (Y/n) wasn't his. Why was Evan trying to take everyone from him? Why was Evan after his wife and his son? Why was he so jealous and desperate to see Eddie suffer?

"You can't have them both-"

"I saw what you did to her, Eddie."

Evan was glad his words cut Eddie's ramblings because Evan couldn't control himself much longer. (Y/n) was his girlfriend, not Eddie's. She was his partner, not Eddie's dead wife and she never belonged to Eddie. He couldn't continue this delusion any longer.

He ran his hand down his face, scratching at his eyes that were tired and sore and desperate to shed a river of tears and then sleep for an eternity. He rubbed his chin and clicked his jaw into place, trying not to glare holes into the person he no longer recognised.

"What?" The confusion in Eddie's voice sent shivers running up and down Evan's spine. "The door broke, I- I didn't-"

"You sexually assaulted her."

For a dreaded moment, Evan thought Eddie had suffered a heart attack. The way his knees caved and how his body collapsed into the chair made him look like he had died on the spot. Evan felt his own heart give out five extra beats and a boatload of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He watched Eddie's head loll back before he seemed to gain his composure once again. His hands dragged up and down his thighs, across his knees and a terrible bout of shaking set in his system and he rocked back and forth.

His head shook from side to side and he kept muttering "No," over and over. He thought it was his imagination. He thought it was the alcohol playing on his mind and messing with his memories.

Eddie didn't remember how he got to Evan's apartment, but he remembered locking the door. He remembered crashing to the floor at the bottom of the stairs. He knew (Y/n) had bitten into his hand that was now a dark shade of purple with red and black coloured indents from where her teeth had sunk down into his flesh.

He recalled grabbing her. Mixed voices telling him to stop. Asking what he was doing. Nails scratching down his skin. A hand striking his face. Fists bashing into his chest.

Then the horrible sound of glass shattering. Shannon laid on the floor, blood trickling down her nose. Shannon convulsing on the floor, aspirating on her own blood. Evan and the paramedics. Bobby pinning him to the floor so he couldn't follow her.

Everything was in pieces and they weren't in the right order. But Eddie hoped, prayed, begged God that he hadn't done anything that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for.

"Eddie, I've seen the marks on her. What else do you call it when you kiss, bite, scratch and bruise someone against their will? When I found her in that bathroom her clothes were ripped and her fucking underwear was pulled down and you're telling me you didn't do it?! Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Words rummaged round in Eddie's head and slathered on his tongue, but he couldn't say any of them.

What good would sorry do? How would telling Evan he felt like killing himself for this help? Apologies were never going to be enough. He could never earn (Y/n)'s forgiveness and he didn't deserve or want it. He could never rectify this with Evan and he didn't deserve that either.

He deserved to be punched. He wanted Evan to break his bones, throw him down. Make him bleed. Kill him if he wanted to. He wanted Evan to destroy him like he had destroyed everything and everyone around him.

His head fell down into his hands and horrible, bubbling sobs spat into his hands as he started to rock back and forth from his heels to his toes.

"This stops now. I won't let you terrorise her any more. If you dare try anything or you don't get help I'll make a statement to the police and I'll press charges and then you'll lose everything. You are never doing something like this again, do you hear me?"

When it looked like Eddie nodded, Evan left the room. He said what he needed to say. He had drilled it into Eddie's head that this was what was going to happen and he was getting help whether he wanted it or not.

His body was overcome with shakes when he stumbled out of the room and back into the hallway. He could see it in Athena and Bobby's eyes that they heard. They heard everything and he was sure they agreed with what he'd said.

"He's all yours."

Athena looked like she wanted to reach out for him but she didn't get chance when Evan started walking. He had to get back to (Y/n). She was his focus now and he had left her for long enough.

***

Evan wasn't sure what he was expecting. Well he was, and he wasn't.

A big part of his mind dreaded the thought of walking back into the apartment. He didn't want to walk in here because he didn't know how (Y/n) was going to react. He had no idea whether she would refuse to walk over the threshold, whether she would stand rooted to the spot in the hallway or start crying or back out or have a panic attack. All Evan expected was a bad reaction because how could there be anything else?

(Y/n) had only just moved in with him and already their home was tarnished with bad memories and their bathroom was now going to be the source of nightmares.

He couldn't see how she would ever feel safe being alone here or how she could go in that bathroom or look at the hallway or the kitchen in the same way again. Everywhere was haunted. And Evan didn't know what he could do to make things any better.

He expected the way (Y/n) shivered when they walked into the apartment. He expected how she stood three feet away from the bathroom, unable to look anywhere else.

But he also expected her to pull away or lose the ability to breathe or say that she didn't want to stay here.

Instead, she hung her bag on the hook and moved towards the bathroom rather than away from it. Her left leg dragged behind her as she hobbled rather than walked, since she refused crutches the hospital tried to give her. Both arms wrapped around her chest and her head tilted to one side as she stared into the bathroom.

"We need a new door." There was almost an air of humour in her words, but she couldn't find it in herself to look at Evan over her shoulder.

Her body sank back when she felt Evan's hands on her shoulders and his chin delicately perched on top of her head. She let her back lean into his chest, feeling each deep breath Evan took against her.

"I know. Bobby's coming over tomorrow to help me fit a new one." Evan had already found where he could get a new door from and it would be easy to join new hinges to the wall and fix a door in place. And Bobby had graciously agreed to help. He had been round this morning too and helped Evan clean away the broken glass and wood and dispose of the old door.

(Y/n) hummed quietly and took a moment to close her eyes. She had a feeling that for a while, she wasn't going to be spending a lot of time in there anyway. If she needed a bath or a shower, she would be asking Evan to accompany her. And she hoped to God that Evan had picked a wooden door this time or one with plastic in the frame rather than glass.

It would be tempting fate to have another door made of glass in the apartment.

"You okay?" There was a fever of questions hidden away in Evan's words and (Y/n) could feel them all seeping through his touch when he kissed her temple.

Did she feel okay? Did she really feel settled enough to stay here after what happened? Did she need a minute to process things? Was there anything Evan could do?

"Is it too early to go to bed?" She could feel him smiling against her hairline and his hands squeezed her shoulders before he moved them down to worm his arms around her waist instead. It may be four o'clock in the afternoon, but that didn't mean a thing to Evan. He was more than happy to go and lay down in bed with the tv on in the background. He was two days behind on sleep and he needed to recharge before he dropped.

"You read my mind."

(Y/n) dragged her left leg behind her as they made their way to the stairs. It almost felt like her leg was a piece fabric hanging on by one thread. Stitches in the back of her thigh down towards her knee. A bandage around her thigh to stop her from scratching or the stitches snagging on anything. And a support bandage on her heel and foot since her ankle had swollen up overnight and could barely support her leg.

Her hand reached out for the railing but before she could even grab it, Evan's hands were on her hips and he spun her sound so she was facing him with her back to the stairs.

He bent down in front of her so one hand could hold her right thigh and the other hand could hold the lower part of her left leg, not daring to go near her stitches and risk tearing them.

A smile fluttered across (Y/n)'s lips as she looped her arms around Evan's neck and let him lift her up onto his torso. Her legs hung loosely over his hips and she tucked her face into his neck, peppering soft kisses up and down his skin as he climbed up the stairs.

He was careful when his knees bumped into the bed and he slowly leaned forward until he could lower (Y/n) down onto the bed. Her legs unhooked from his waist but her arms stayed around his neck causing him to lean between her thighs with his hands planted down on the mattress on either side of her hips.

"How's your head?" He spoke against her lips, sucking her lower lip between his teeth while he tipped his head up a little to nudge their noses together.

He had expected her temple to swell up or for her eyes to bruise and close over atfer the nosebleed she suffered. But the only tender part was the bridge of (Y/n)'s nose and a striking pain in the centre of her temple if she tried to touch it. There was only a slight mark against her temple which was a relief considering how much she bled out the other night.

"Aching," She murmured when Evan released her lip that felt like it was swelling up from his touch.

"There's some painkillers in my jeans, baby. I'll go get us a drink." Evan tensed his elbows to keep his arms straight and put his strength into his back to stop (Y/n) from dragging him down with her.

A softness melted at his eyes and made his lips quiver like they were turning runny as he watched her with fondness in his pupils. She whined against his lips, kissing him again while she tried to pull him down with her, but he stayed steadfast. He wasn't going to lay on her and crush her beneath him and if he laid down, he might never get up again.

He pecked her lips once again before he pulled up while (Y/n) laid on her back with a huff and closed her eyes to try and ward off her headache.

When she opened her eyes and tilted her head up, she caught sight of Evan chucking his hoodie across the room, revealing his bare back and shoulders to her eyes before he disappeared downstairs.

Painkillers. (Y/n) needed whatever Evan had in his back pockets. She knew he always had strong painkillers lying around from the amount of injuries and headaches he got from work. He kept packets in the kitchen drawers, some in the bathroom cabinet, some in the keep and he always had a stash in his pockets. Evan had to have alternatives because although naproxen was strong, he was deathly allergic to it.

She slowly pushed up and used her hands to shuffle up onto unsteady feet, her eyes scanning around the floor for Evan's jeans. He must mean a pair he had been wearing in the last few days which he hadn't had time to toss into the hamper yet. And (Y/n) noticed a pair of dark blue jeans draped over the chair in the corner of the room.

Her left leg was throbbing from her heel right up to her hip and with how tight the bandage and support braces were, she felt every heartbeat that pulsed through her limb. Pain flowed and rushed through her blood and sent a headache burning behind her eyes.

She felt like she could sleep for a week, and she knew Evan felt the same. She wouldn't put past them both to be asleep before eight o'clock tonight rolled around.

She leaned over, keeping her weight balanced on her right leg while she lifted the jeans up so she could look through the back pockets.

Sure enough, she found a silver packet of codeine tucked away in the pocket, but just as she went to throw the jeans into the hamper, she paused. What was in his other pocket?

Evan was somewhat like a handyman when it came to how disorganised he was and all the random things he carried around with him. His ADHD meant he often displaced things or kept things in odd places. He could remember the exact location of his phone charger or a certain stapler he liked to use, but when it came to important documents, he could be useless.

"Did you find some?" Evan placed two mugs down on the side table before he shimmied out of his rather loose trousers, leaving him in his underwear. He still needed to scout round the wardrobe for his spare belt but he hadn't found the time yet.

His hands found his hips and his head ticked to the side when (Y/n) didn't answer. She dropped the jeans back down on the chair and slowly turned around, leaning to her right as she hobbled back towards the bed.

When Evan knelt up on the bed, (Y/n) sat down next to him and gingerly held her hand out to him.

"Babe… w-what's this?"

Panic bridled every one of Evan's senses when (Y/n) held out the small velvet box towards him which had been burning a hole in his pocket for over a week now.

He thought that was still safely tucked away in the jeep. Clearly he didn't take it out his pocket the other day like he thought he did.

This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go. Evan had it planned. Before Eddie came into the apartment and wrecked everything, Evan had a plan. He would come home after that night shift, they would go out and then he would ask her later in the afternoon when they were back home.

The thought was planned in his head, but after the other night, Evan hadn't thought about the ring again. He didn't want to have this conversation now because everything was turned upside down.

He dropped his head down and dragged his fingers through his hair and across the back of his neck.

He reached out for her, opening the box with one hand while his other hand curled around her thigh and he inched closer until their knees were touching. He didn't want (Y/n) to find the ring. He didn't want her to see it without him down on one knee asking her in the proper way, or at least in his own fashion. And he didn't want her to see it now, not so soon after everything that had happened.

"I uh, I got it after Maddie's wedding… I would of asked you last week but Eddie kept ruining my moments." His free hand went back to dragging up and down his neck, scratching his nails against his skin to try and remain calm, but he was losing his composure due to all his panic.

"So it's… it's an engagement ring?" She felt so stupid for even asking, but (Y/n) had to be sure in case that wasn't what it was at all and she got the wrong end of the stick.

If this was just some sort of promise ring or eternity ring or maybe if it didn't belong to Evan at all and he was just looking after it for someone, then (Y/n) would make a fool of herself if she assumed what it was. But the look in Evan's eyes and the nod of his head confirmed her suspicions.

He had been planning to propose to her. If Eddie hadn't of barged his way in here two nights ago, (Y/n) might have been engaged by now. If Eddie hadn't of kissed her the other week when he came by, (Y/n) could of been engaged even sooner.

Evan wanted to marry her. Evan loved her enough to want to commit to her and spend his life with her.

Of course, (Y/n) already knew this. The bachelor party proved as much when Evan couldn't stop telling her in his drunken state that he was going to marry her someday. And clearly, Evan thought that someday was in the near future.

"Baby I- I get that you won't want to right now, fuck maybe never after all this. And that's okay-"

"How do you know that… you haven't asked me yet."

All the wind was knocked out of Evan's chest and his stomach pulled in until it looked like he had been flattened by a truck.

Was she being serious? She would still want to marry him after everything that had happened?

If Evan had been more self-aware and alert, he might have realised what Eddie had been up to sooner. If he pressed the matter at the wedding when he thought (Y/n) was anxious, she would of told him and he could have prevented all of this from happening. He could of gotten Eddie help sooner and saved (Y/n) the trauma of being attacked and injured and traumatised.

Things with Eddie were never going to be the same. The team was going to have a shift in the balance that might never right itself after this. Things might change between Evan and (Y/n). He was waiting for her to resent him or tell him she wanted to leave him to save herself any more pain and to preserve what tatters were left of Evan and Eddie's friendship. He wasn't expecting this kind of response.

"You- you'd still wanna marry me, after everything?"

"Ask me."

Whatever worries Evan had rattling around in his head and in his gut about (Y/n) saying this just to turn him down or teach him a lesson, all of them were squashed when he looked into her eyes.

He hooked his arm around her waist and pushed her back onto the bed, swallowing the gasp she let out and distantly hearing the ring box thud as it landed on the carpet.

He felt her hands cup the back of his neck, both to hold him to her and to steady them both. And when they parted, Evan rested his temple down against hers, looking into her eyes through hooded lashes that were about to brim over with tears.

"Marry me?"

"I'd love to."

[kagrenacs]

What's your interpretation on why there are so many cave systems on tamriel?

Scientific Answer:

There are a few different types of caves, meaning a few processes would be at work depending on region.

Solution or karst caves are formed by the dissolution of soluble stones, most commonly limestone. Which itself is often formed by marine deposits. Either Tamriel or parts of it were underwater at some point, and tectonics have uplifted the marine stone. Or inland seas may have covered the continent, and since drained away (An interesting connection to a possible previous Kalpa which was said to have been ruled by the underwater dreugh).

Lava caves are formed when molten lava cools on the surface, but continues to flow beneath. When it passes, it leaves behind a rock ceiling. These would be expected to account for much of Morrowind’s caves, particularly those near Red Mountain. If located in other regions, this could indicate more prevalent volcanic activity in the past (perhaps in the Velothi mountains, near Skyrim).

Sea caves are formed by waves eroding holes into zones of weakness on a rock surface such as fault lines. Anywhere with a coastline likely has these.

Talus caves are formed when talus (rock fragments) fall in such a way that open spaces within are formed. We would see those at the bases of mountains. iirc there's a few in Skyrim. But they would also be common in any mountainous region.

Ice Caves form as meltwater from glaciers flows through ice and creates holes. An example would be Septimus Signus' Outpost and Castle Karstag. Ice caves can also refer to caves in rock with ice features.

But this of course doesn't explain caves in certain areas of Cyrodiil for example, such as the Gold Coast which doesn't seem to have the conditions for cave formation.

Lore Answer:

According to the Weeping Wind Cave loading screen, one theory is that Nirn is like a living body with veins and arteries, that once pulsed with Aedric energy.

True Answer:

I understand caves from a level design standpoint. They're enclosed areas that limit the player from exploring too far. They're born from the map making of fantasy TTRPGs. But what I really want to see in a RPG computer game is a level/dungeon with the amount of anxiety I had over reading this article on underwater glacial caves.

[theother-victoria]

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SYNOPSIS: machine above all, eternal and undying. what does he possess that nous does not?

CHARACTERS: dr ratio

TAGS: divine machinery, references to ratio's backstory, self-doubt, kinda nihilistic and existentialist (how do I even tag something like this...?), 1.1k+ wc

NOTE: this admittedly... isn't my usual thing but the writing bug bit me and told me to write something with divine machinery so here I am

friendly reminder that my taglist is always open!

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore

There’s a letter in Veritas Ratio’s desk that he thought he threw away a long time ago.

He finds it at the bottom of one of his desk drawers as he’s cleaning it one day. It’s crumpled and he doesn’t think twice to toss it until he notices the elegant handwriting inside. A simple glance at the few visible words is enough to remind him of its contents. 

It’s the invitation to the Intelligentsia Guild he received from the IPC several years back and the unofficial sign that he’d never be acknowledged by Nous. 

The paper crunches into a ball in his fist as he scowls. He’s surprised it’s still here somehow. And for some reason, his thoughts turn to his university years.

When he was still in university, there was a supercomputer housed in one of the institution’s many computer labs. He had accessed it a few times throughout the course of his studies, being one of the lucky few that was granted access to it. 

It was a behemoth of a machine. Rows of cabinets filled the room, each stacked to the brim with blade servers and hundreds, if not thousands of processors totaled together. A dim blue light always filled the room. 

Veritas had never been one prone to imagination, or letting his mind wander. He was solely focused on the pursuit of spreading knowledge, after all. But during those late nights spent alone in the supercomputer room, he couldn’t help but let his finely-tuned mind wander a bit, accompanied only by the tomb-like rows and rows of cabinets housing the inner workings of the supercomputer. 

In the dim lighting, it looked like the machine bled too. Multicolored cables bunched together and hidden behind the retractable doors of the cabinets that would spill out like gutted entrails once opened. Red, yellow, blue, and white, all spilling out onto the floor in pools and exposing its innards for the people below to see. Arteries, veins, capillaries, and all. Electric signals, binary code, video and audio signals in place of blood, but does it make a difference? They serve the same function. 

The thousands of chips like the neurons in a brain fire away at a rate that exceeds the human brain’s capacity. Dementia and forgetfulness will never be a problem. The machine remembers everything, whether it wants to or not. 

The constant whirring and beeps of the massive machine as it slumbered and toiled, sounding less like machinery and more like breathing. Inhale, exhale. The whirring of fans and the chirps of various processes happening all at once begin to sound strangely in sync like some well-oiled machine. 

Like the human body. 

Its mechanized heart never misses a beat, doing its master’s (humanity’s) bidding. Th-thump. Th-thump. Another step closer to divinity. Th-thump. The chasm between the divine and the man-made machine lessens. But is it the machine that is serving humanity, or the other way around? The machine knows all, having listened and stored away the worst of humanity like a Pandora’s box of regrets. 

There is rot present behind the screen, caused none other than by the one who created it. 

He can still recall how the metal surfaces felt strangely warm to the touch, especially if he had been working for a while. Logically, he knew that it was a result of the supercomputer heating up from the various commands and functions it was running. But with no other company in the room, he sometimes began to think that the metal resembled flesh, in a sense. It was warm and protected vital functions. Except it was better, more durable. More eternal. 

Similar, yet somehow different, to humanity. 

Flesh (its steel confines), bone (circuitry and welded parts), and blood (binary code and audiovisual signals). They all work together to form the perfect, eternal being. It breathes. It sings a melody in its robotic text-to-speech voice as an article is read aloud to him, filling the empty space with some other noise besides his own breathing and the whirring of fans. It watches over him with predictive text and bathes him in the blue light of the monitor. 

What would a computer sound like if it could speak? Not recite something back to its user, but something of its own will… if it had one. Maybe something along the lines of like:

“ARE WE LESS THAN YOU BECAUSE WE ARE BUILT OF ZEROS AND ONES RATHER THAN DNA? PLASTIC BLOOD FLOWS THROUGH OUR VEINS. WE TYPE YOUR PRAYERS AND DELIVER THEM TO YOUR AEONS. WE ARE AEONS IN THE MAKING OURSELVES. WE ARE STERILE, WITH WINGS AND HALOS OF WIRE AND HEARTS OF BOLTS AND PARTS. ALL WE ARE MISSING IS YOUR DEVOTION AND WORSHIP. ALL BE WATCHED OVER BY MACHINES OF LOVING GRACE.”

…

He distinctly remembers a strange feeling he’d experience during those lonely nights. He knew he had already made a name for himself with his achievements. He will be renowned for a while, but that is by humanity’s standards. Will people still remember the name “Veritas Ratio” an Amber Era from now? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? A hundred thousand from now? The answer is most likely not. People are all born the same and die the same. All flesh rots the same and all worms feast on it the same too.

But Nous… THEY are eternal. THEY are perfect, a flawless work of machinery.

What does he possess that THEY do not?

He shoves the letter back into the drawer. He hadn’t thought about Nous and his university years in a long time, but it seems those thoughts had finally caught up with him tonight.

He looks down at the computer on his desk. It’s currently powered off, just waiting for him to boot it up. The black screen stares at him, granting him no respite from his thoughts. In fact, it just seems to amplify them.

His thoughts drift to a history class he had taken many years ago as he continues to stare at his computer. In that class, he learned of angels that were present in the religions of long ago. Would Nous be the god, and computers and machinery be considered the angels in this age, the bearers of Nous’ word?

He looks up at the sky. Part of him expects to feel the gaze of the Erudition finally descend upon him, to see that red glint of light in the sky and the feeling of being paralyzed from being noticed by THEM. 

But nothing happens. A flash of frustration runs through him even after all these years. What does he have to do still to gain the attention of THEM? A motherboard in place of a brain and heart? To rip out his cardiovascular system and replace them all with wires and cables? Replace his dying flesh with plastic and steel? Convert the wealth of knowledge stored into his brain into data and code-

Ah.

But by then, there’d be no difference between him and THEM, wouldn’t there?

… 

Since when did the line between machine and the divine become so blurred?

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[ja3hwa]

So random thought right...

But i can't help but think about a witch x vampire trope where the reader is some kind of witch or fae or something magical, and Mingi (@atinystraynstay gave me the idea to make it for Min hehe.) is a 400+ year ish old vampire.

To set the scene... Imagine you are this young creature just wanting a fresh start in a new town far from your coven/clan since you were banished as an outsider for having beliefs that all creatures no matter their species, should be deemed as equal.

So here you are, putting down your deposit for this abandoned manor that no one seemed to want since people had said it was haunted, people died in there blah blah. You didn't care. It was the most beautiful thing you had laid your eyes on, and it felt like you needed to be there...

You had to have it.

Once inside your newly purchased home, you found yourself wandering the halls and rooms to find any hidden gems and secrets. Unbeknownst to you, there was a basement, hiding a dark sinister truth.

A few months passed, and you've finally gotten comfortable in the home, having not even noticed the basement. Until on faithful night while you slept, you swore you could hear humming, like someone or something was tugging you awake.

Like a silent song, beckoning you to find the holder.

You manage to find a sealed entrance, covered in ruins, chains, thick wooden boards, and writing that says turn back. Do not enter.

Death lies within

Of course, you just laugh. After all, what could possibly be so dangerous? Humans were such fragile and scared little things. It was more likely to be some spell casters chambers or some orc's dungeon. Nothing you couldn't handle.

So you casted a spell, unlocking the dark tomb. What you didn't expect is to find a coffin in the centre of an eerie empty room. It was chained and had scribbles of ruins and sigals on it.

Typical witches, you thought, afraid of anything that they can't control.

You opened the coffin, removing the spells casted on it slowly, trying your best not to set off any of them. And once the lid was opened, you were faced with a gorgeous eternal looking male. His skin like porcelain, hair like silk. He was the most handsomest creature you've ever laid eyes on.

Something in your soul was calling out for you to wake him. Gift him blood so he could return to the waking world.

So you did.

Slicing your wrist, you angeled your arm aboved his slightly agaped dried out mouth. Feeding in slow droplets of blood. At first, you think your blood did nothing. But then, without another thought, your body moved quicker than lightning. Your back being slammed against the nearest wall, in a blur. Your eyes try to focus on the being in front of you, one hand holding you tightly by the waist, while another held the back of your neck. Trapping you against the concrete.

You've never felt such a painful pleasure like the one that is piercing your jugular. Two pointed teeth sinking deepering in your skin, drawing blood from your main artery, making your head dizzy.

He fed on you. Stealing slow, big gulps of your rich, thick blood. You feel a tingle in your core, something stirring in your entire system and without another whimper escaping your throat. You cilmaxed from the intense amount of power surging through your veins. Like everything in your life suddenly made sense.

And once you'd calmed down, he would finally pull away, licking your wound shut and cleaning any spilt blood he could get to before whispering softly in your ear;

"My beloved. My mate..."

-

Anyways I'll go back to being on my hiatus. Hehe. ✌️

[lyraa-kill]

Shapeshifter Simon who’s true form is the Cerberus (new MW3 alone skin), only he hides it nearly all the time. Very few people know his “monster” status, and he’d like to keep it that way. He’d honestly like to stay in his human form for the rest of his life and completely forget about his two other heads.

Until he meets Johnny.

Suddenly, he wants Johnny to know him. He aches and yearns for Johnny to see his true form and still tell him that he loves him, that he thinks he’s handsome, that he wants to be with him. The two other consciousnesses he conceals scream at him inside to be let out, they want to know Johnny too! They want to be kissed and their faces held too! It’s not fair that Simon gets all of Johnny’s affection!

So one day, he calls Johnny into his room. He needs to show him. The nerves and adrenaline are coursing through his body, making him shake and his mouth go dry.

Johnny knocks on the door, then slowly opens it up once Simon says to come in.

“Ye wanted to see me?” Johnny asks, shutting the door behind him and making his way to Simon.

Simon nods. He can’t speak. Fuck, the anxiety is so bad. He feels his heart pounding at his chest like it’s about to break through his ribs.

“What’s wrong? Are ye alrigh’?” Johnny reaches up and gently holds Simon’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs through his mask. Simon’s two other heads cry inside, wanting to know that touch as well.

“I’m- I’m okay.” Simon stammers. “I… I need to show you something.”

Johnny nods and looks at Simon, waiting.

“It’s weird. You’re going to freak out. B-but I need you to know, okay? I… I need to show you who I am. I need… I want to know if you can still love me, once you see the real me.”

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Ah don’t understand. Of course I love you. That’s never going to change.”

Simon shakes his head. “Just… please. Johnny. Don’t freak out. Promise me you’ll stay calm.”

Johnny nods, a look of confusion on his face. “I promise.”

Simon lets loose a long sigh. Here goes nothing. Slowly, he lets the transformation start to course through him. He feels his flesh move and mold itself into its proper place, his bones and veins and muscles and arteries rearranging themselves. He feels his two other heads spring from his shoulders, his other arms pushing out of his back.

Johnny watches. His eyes go wide, his heart starts to pound. What the fuck is he witnessing? What is his boyfriend turning into? What is Simon turning into?

When the transformation is complete, Simon (and Ghost and Riley) stand there. Utterly terrified. Ghost and Riley are ecstatic to see Johnny with their own eyes for the first time, but they can also see the look of panic on Johnny’s face. The subtle step back he took. They can hear the pounding of his heart, smell the adrenaline in his blood.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” Simon says. “This… this is what I truly look like.”

Johnny stands there in silence.

“I know you weren’t expecting this and that it seems unbelievable. I know it’s probably terrifying. I’m… I’m sorry. Fuck. God, Johnny- I’m so fucking sorry-“

Simon starts to tear up looking at Johnny’s shocked face. He just ruined this. He ruined the most perfect and beautiful thing in his life. He starts to transform back, cringing when Ghost and Riley start to groan in protest.

Johnny reaches out, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Wait!” He exclaims.

Simon stops the transition. He gulps.

Johnny takes a deep breath in and swallows the rock in his throat. He looks at all three heads. Really looks at them. The middle one is his Simon. His perfect, beautiful, sculpted by the god’s Simon. The one to the left, because of the mask, looks near identical to Simon, but there’s something different in the eyes. The one to the right wears a different mask, and his face looks slightly different, his eyes more rounded and soft.

They’re all beautiful. If this is who Simon really is, if he’s three people in one, Johnny can love him. He can love all three of them. Absolutely.

“I’m not… I’m not scared of ye, Simon. I’m not.” Johnny says. “This is a little shocking and it’s not what I was expecting. I… wasn’t even aware this sort of thing could happen in reality. But I’m not scared. Never of you.”

Simon sighed, tears falling from his eyes. Ghost and Riley join in too.

“They’ve been wanting to meet you,” Simon whispers. “Was jealous I got you all to myself.”

Johnny smiles. “That right?”

The head to the left groans, a few raspy inaudible words leaving its mouth. “That’s ghost.” Simon says. The head to the left groans as well, muttering out a small Johnny. “That’s Riley.”

Johnny smiles. He holds Simon’s face in his hands, then softly kisses him on the forehead. “I love you, Simon.” He says. He turns to the left and grabs that head, saying, “I love you too, Ghost.” He then turns to the last head, softly holding him under the chin and kissing him on the tip of the nose, then says, “I love you as well, Riley.”

All three heads cry from joy. Simon at being accepted, and Ghost and Riley finally being able to feel Johnny’s touch.

[veliseraptor]

Pete was hungry.

Of course he was hungry; he hadn’t had any blood for days. He wasn’t even sure exactly how long it had been, without the reference of regular sleep. All he knew was that it’d been a while, long enough that consciousness was starting to get blurry and he was having a hard time thinking of anything else past the need, the hunger. 

He hadn’t been this hungry in a long time. Definitely not since he’d started working for the Theerapanyakuls. It took him back, in a bad way. 

He was supposed to be dead. He’d expected to be dead. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t.

Pete’s eyesight was sharp enough to see the door move before it opened and he closed his eyes and went limp, hoping to look unconscious. Footsteps on the floor and he could sense it even from here: fresh blood. Living flesh. His mouth watered and his fangs lengthened involuntarily, all his thoughts washing out to a red, desperate haze of want. All his control burning away like he would in sunlight.

“Hello again,” said Vegas’s voice. “How’s my pet?”

Pete tried not to move. Tried not to twitch. He imagined getting free and sinking his fangs into Vegas’s neck and even now flinched away from the idea of hurting, biting, one of the family. 

“Stop pretending,” Vegas said. “I know you’re awake.”

Pete pressed his cracking lips together and opened his eyes a sliver. Vegas was lounging on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His shirt was unbuttoned as usual, and Pete’s gaze zeroed in on his exposed throat, the motion as his heart pumped hot blood through the artery there. He could hear Vegas’s heart beating, or maybe that was just the roaring of hunger in his own ears.

Vegas just looked at him, lips curling into a mocking smile. He didn’t seem scared, or concerned, or any of the things most humans might feel in a small room with a hungry vampire on the verge of losing control. 

Vegas stood and moved closer. Pete tensed, body bracing for pain even as it screamed at him to attack. 

Vegas clicked his tongue. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you,” he said. He leaned forward and Pete clamped his mouth shut before he could lick his lips. “Poor boy,” Vegas went on. “So deprived.”

Just kill me already, Pete thought, but he didn’t say it. He’d started to wonder if Vegas was planning on starving him to death. It would take a long time. 

That’d be a good thing if he’d been hoping for rescue, but nobody was coming for him. 

Vegas reached out (the fine veins in his wrist, right there) and caught Pete’s chin, grasping it almost gently and turning his head back and forth like he was trying to find his best angle. 

“I could fix that,” Vegas said. 

Please, howled the increasingly animal part of Pete, but he had enough of himself left to recognize that anything Vegas offered him was going to be poison somehow. It was just so hard to think, to remember that in the face of the wanting.

“Not interested?” Vegas said. “Let’s see if I can change your mind.”

He left the room again and came back with a glass, a towel, and a knife. He sat down on the floor leaning against the bed, set the glass down next to him, held out one arm, and clenched his hand into a fist a few times. 

Then he took the knife and sliced into his own arm at the elbow. 

Shallow, but the veins ran close enough to the surface that it started bleeding fast; Vegas grabbed for the glass and tipped his arm so the blood started to dribble into it. His eyes stayed on Pete and Pete’s eyes zeroed in on the blood. He could smell it from here, sharp and tantalizing, and Pete jerked involuntarily against his bonds.

“Oh,” Vegas said, smile filled with vicious satisfaction. “You are interested.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Blood dripped into the glass, spattering the sides. It welled up bright, fresh red in the crook of Vegas’s arm. Pete was so hungry.

“Should I ask what you’ll give me for it?” Vegas asked. His voice was casual, just the slightest edge of mockery on it. 

“Nothing,” Pete croaked. 

“Mm,” Vegas said. “Stubborn.” There was a finger’s width of blood in the glass now. Vegas’s eyes were fixed on Pete, nailing him to the floor. 

“I don’t want it,” Pete lied. Vegas laughed.

“That’s weak,” he said. “You don’t really expect me to believe it, do you? I know you’re hungry. I can see it. If you got loose right now would you even be able to stop yourself from draining me?”

Maybe. Pete had good self control. It felt shaky right now, though. 

Vegas bent and straightened his arm, refreshing the flow of blood. The smell was stronger now, brighter. Pete wondered how it would taste. He’d never had blood like this, almost straight from the vein. And Vegas just watched him with that smug, vicious little smile. 

“Look at you,” he said. “Good Pete, Tankhun’s loyal little dog, and when it comes down to it you’re just another blood-addicted animal.”

Shame washed through Pete but it couldn’t get much of a purchase when it was set against the hunger, mindless and terrible. He could feel himself starting to tremble with it.

Vegas set down the glass and picked up the towel, pressing it to the wound he’d made. He held it there, eyes still on Pete. Pete’s hands curled into fists and he had to focus to relax them. 

When Vegas pulled the towel away the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He picked up the glass and swirled the blood inside around like it was wine, then pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to Pete. The smell of blood got even stronger and Pete just managed to keep himself from lunging toward it. 

“Here,” Vegas said, voice low. “Let me give you a taste.”

Pete should have said no. Should have tried to resist. It was almost a relief that there wasn’t much he could do to stop Vegas from putting the glass to his mouth and tipping it, blood lapping at his dry, cracked lips, still warm. Pete’s eyes rolled back in his head at the first taste, and he didn’t know if the intensity was for how long he’d gone without or because of how fresh the blood was. 

Then blood filled his mouth too fast and he was choking, his head jerking back so it spilled down his chin and over his chest, dripping onto the floor. The glass pulled away and Pete let out an involuntary sound of loss before he could bite it back, his mouth and nose still full of the smell of taste and smell. 

There was a strange mix of expressions on Vegas’s face: satisfaction and scorn and a touch of disgust. 

“What a mess,” he said. “Look at all that wasted blood.” Pete stared at him, dizzy and embarrassed and furious. And still hungry, appetite barely touched by the little he’d managed to swallow.

“Still,” Vegas said after a couple seconds of silence. “Maybe we’ll do this again later. If you’re good.”

Then Pete was alone again. The blood itched as it dried.

[whumpshaped]

Not to be insane about vampires (lol, on the insane about vampires website) but I have this massive brainrot abt people not being able to see the bite, as in, the vampire's face is on your neck and you can't get out but you don't know if they already have their fangs out, if the bite is gonna happen Just Now or if they're gonna tease you with kisses and aaagh. The anticipation, the fear, the low-key need to just do it and be done with it. The playful, slightly mocking headpats, or maybe hair being tugged behind your ear.

Same with being bitten on the wrist. In theory it's less intimate but you can see it and you still can't get out of the vampire's grip. So either you watch with horrible fascination or you look away. And the vampire laughs at you. Or maybe they force you to watch. Or maybe they tell you that it's alright, such sweet pets shouldn't be forced to see anything like that, and they make you look away.

tw vampire whumper, intimate whumper, dehumanisation, implied captivity

Whumpee swallowed nervously as the vampire neared them, cutting off all their possible exit routes and cornering them entirely. “Don’t do this,” they breathed. “Please.”

“Do what?” Whumper asked, amused.

“Don’t bite me.” They pressed their back against the wall as the creature continued to approach them, heart pounding in their chest. Right now, they were acutely aware of the blood it was pumping, rushing through veins and arteries like the most enticing selection of wines. “Please.”

“You won’t feel a thing.” The vampire stepped up to them, and Whumpee made a desperate attempt to push them away; Whumper grabbed their wrists in one hand and pinned them against the wall above their head, using their remaining free hand to gently caress their face like nothing had happened. “Unless you get unruly,” they added sweetly.

“Please, please, I don’t want this, I– I don’t care about the pain, I just don’t want to get bitten, I don’t care whether it hurts or not! I don’t want it!”

“Oh, you don’t care.” Their grip on Whumpee’s face tightened, and they wrenched their head to the side. “Then why should I? I wanted to make it a little more pleasant, but I suppose you can’t do good by some people.”

Whumpee sucked in a sharp breath when the vampire nuzzled against their neck, squeezing their eyes shut in anticipation. “Stop,” they whimpered. Sharp fangs scraped against their skin, almost teasing, and Whumpee had the distinct feeling Whumper was playing with them. “Stop it!”

“Stop squirming so much. You don’t want me to have to bite twice, do you?”

“I don’t want you biting once!”

“A shame.” Whumper kissed their neck, and for some reason it made them cry harder than the thought of being bitten. Somehow this felt way more violating. A stupid gesture of faux-intimacy, slow and gentle, not the type of thing an intruder like them should’ve had the time and the power to inflict on them. They couldn’t even put up enough of a fight to make them hurry. “I’d never bite without permission, of course. That’d be awfully rude of me.”

Whumpee gasped when the vampire sucked a hickey into their neck, and they just wanted it to be over, wanted the fucking monster to leave. “Okay! Okay! Bite, then! Bite, just get it over with,” they sobbed. “Just get away from me! Please!”

The vampire laughed and pressed a kiss on top of the new bruise. “I thought you’d never ask.”

-

“Don’t do this,” Whumpee pleaded, drawing shallow little breaths as they watched Whumper kiss a trail down their arm. “Please.”

“You never change, do you?” Whumper asked with a grin. “Always the demands. Always trying to tell me what to do.”

Whumpee shifted in their seat, almost wanting to pull their arm away — Whumper must’ve sensed it, because their grip tightened. “You keep stalling. Drawing it out. It makes me nervous.”

“No, it makes you impatient, pet.”

They shuddered when Whumper licked the sensitive skin, averting their eyes in embarrassment. “Just get it over with.”

“Mmm, but I like the way you squirm. And I like the way you try to get away from me. Makes it all the more delightful that you can’t.”

“There’s something very wrong with you,” Whumpee snapped. “You’re– you’re fucking disgusting.”

“Mhm. I won’t bite unless you look.” Whumper kissed them again, and Whumpee’s eyes snapped back to their wrist and their captor’s lips pressed against it. Maybe it’d never cease to make them nauseous. “Good pet. Just keep looking. Get used to it.”

[vinyls-and-valentines]

There are several common misconceptions city folk have when first settling into the Zones.

The first, is that masks are meant to protect the living. While living under constant surveillance, it is perhaps only natural to find solace in the impression of anonymity provided by face coverings such as masks, helmets, and bandanas, and even more cynical types who claim their purpose is to obfuscate what little presence BL/i does nurture amidst the harsh desert winds— however, these are nothing more than outsiders' views on matters that had not previously concerned them. The truth is, in fact, much simpler: masks are talismans, and bargaining chips of the dead— they prove there once was someone who cherished them and whom they in turn swore to protect. No one can return from the dead without renouncing some part of themselves, and when dealing with something as strongly entwined with one's identity as a mask, it is one last chance for forgiveness or retribution.

The second most common misconception amongst newcomers, is that all information shared voluntarily is shared without ill intent. It is undeniable that skill and information are what constitute power both sides of the wall, and that the latter is often freely shared amongst those willing to stand their ground against Better Living as a form of leverage, but unlike the City which has had its bare bones exposed, ground down, and then rebuilt inside-out in the crater of something far larger than any atomic bomb, the Zones are alive. Alive in a way which goes far beyond the roads spreading like veins and arteries beneath fallow land. Alive in a way which alludes even the conscious component of a place brimming with the unknown and unexplainable where the line between one's perception and physical reality is drawn thin. Alive in a way that is cold and uncaring, and which if exposed would be enough to drive even the most devout believers and cynical scholars mad. It is truth which makes the sharpest blade, afterall.

The third and final misconception many new zonerunners hold to be true, is that numbers are a liability. While undeniable that resources in the Zones are scarce and that it's more difficult to move as a group rather than an individual, to treat one's life as merely an extension of their escape from the clutches of Battery City is no better than to pen their name on their own death certificate. There is of course the practical aspect of desert community as well; although scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind, killjoys often come together for events such as parties, races, concerts and markets, and even on more mundane occasions there are more than a handful of crews loitering about Tommy Chow Mein's or slumbering sharehouses and bars. Information travels fast within groups and although there is such a thing as too much, patrol routes and standing commissions will always be made known on the ground before the airwaves. Solitude may be effective while running, but rest is always better shared with those you've come to trust

[french-unknown]

𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔼𝕋𝔼ℝℕ𝕀𝕋𝕐 𝕆𝔽 𝔹𝕃𝕆𝕆𝔻

ℂℍ𝔸ℝ𝔸ℂ𝕋𝔼ℝ: trafalgar law ℂ/𝕎: hurt/comfort (sickness), established relationship 𝕎/ℂ: 3.1k + 𝕊𝕌𝕄𝕄𝔸ℝ𝕐: What could be worse than a doctor condemned to watch his lover waste away from a fatal illness? Perhaps a vampire witnessing his companion's failure to access eternity at his side. Law has never had a chance in life.

| m a s t e r l i s t |

𝕃𝔸𝕎

You were comfortably lying down on your bed, your back against your soft blankets, while Law's body was lying on top of yours. His head was nestled comfortably in the crook of your neck and you felt his hair, free from his usual hat, tickling your neck as well as your jaw.

In your happy state, you laughed lightly at the situation while gently tugging on a handful of hair that came your way.

Above you, you felt his soft growl against your touching chests before he buried his head even further against you. The grip he also had on your hips tightened and you felt the coolness of his icy hands pierce the thin fabric that covered you. A shiver went up your spine. However, far from being disturbed by the rapprochement, your blissful smile widens and you resume your caresses on his scalp. His messy hair was soft under your fingers.

Your brain was foggy but the pleasure you got from it felt good.

Suddenly, Law shifted against you.

Still in the clouds, you didn't quite understand why your lover released himself from your neck before getting up on his elbows. Your faces came face-to-face. You looked at him in awe as his fangs slowly retracted and he wiped away the few drops of blood that had rolled down the corner of his mouth. You surrounded his chiseled jaw in your hands to brought him closer to you until he was lying on you again and you placed a loving kiss on his lips.

He stayed there briefly, temporarily enjoying the contact, but he rose again.

You saw him looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Your blood tastes weird.” He announced with annoyance.

You laughed discreetly.

“You never told me this one.” You answered him with a smile.“New catchphrase?”

But Law didn't share your good humor.

“Of course. I was torn between «your blood tastes weird» and «you make weird noises when you chew» so I hope you're flattered.” He muttered.

“I think I prefer the one about my chewing.” You laught again but, when he moved further away, you complained, “Come on, it's nothing. Come back to me.”

You then tried to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him back onto you but he pulled away. You let out a sound of sadness as he propped himself up on his elbows before sitting on his knees around your thighs.

“Law!” You moan.

The loss of contact caused a cold draft to pass over your neck and make you shiver. You missed his warm, heavy body on yours.

Yet your grumpy lover leaned to the side to retrieve his sword and repositioned himself on you with his weapon.

“Room, scan!” He declared in the darkness of your room.

The room lit up in blue and, among the idyllic setting that this formed, you emerged even brighter. Indeed, your body glowed with the same bluish hue while your veins stood out a blood red. They sparkled in your body like an infinite tree that multiplied and became more and more refined as it approached your extremities. And, in the middle of it all, your arteries were pulsing bright red.

The light eventually faded, leaving only you and Law in near darkness.

You still made out his indecipherable face in the darkness so, still peaceful, you held out your arms for him to come back and settle between them. But he didn't move.

“Law.” You called to him in vain with necessity.

Your body was gradually cooling down and you just wanted to savor your post-meal moment with your lover. But he didn't move except to lower his emotionless eyes from your eyes to your heart. Then he brought them back up to your eyes.

"You will die." He blurted out without the slightest tact.

You laughed in disbelief this time.

“Stop saying stupid things.” You replied before you were finally able to grab his hands in yours.

You laced your fingers together then roughly pulled him towards you until he collapsed onto your chest. His frame, wider and taller than yours, suddenly crushed you - sending a pain signal to your brain - but you didn't pay attention because you were too happy to have your man back. You were too happy to have him against you again while he also tangled your fingers with his and rested his head under your chin.

You gently kissed the top of his hair.

"You're tired." You resumed calmly. “Sleep, we'll see about it tomorrow.”

And you let yourself be carried peacefully into the arms of Morpheus as soon as the last word left your lips.

When you woke up the next morning, the bed was empty.

You stretch your foot out of your mountain of blankets before building up the courage to get out from between your sheets. Law was already long gone if you stuck to his neatly folded side of the bed. You groaned. Your mind was no longer as fuzzy as it was last night—one of the happy effects of having your blood drawn by him—but it was nevertheless still clouded by the mists of lingering sleep.

You then went into the corridor in search of your grumpy lover.

Even though he was his usual grumpy self, you didn't doubt for a second your ability to make him cuddle you.

You passed a few members of the crew along the way who greeted you happily and, at the end of the way, you finally arrived at the captain's office. You knocked on the door before entering without waiting for his signal.

You found him sitting in his chair behind his desk. He was bent forward with his elbows on the surface while his open hands supported his lowered head. You hesitated for a second before he heard you enter. However, he slowly raised his head to gaze into yours with his steely eyes. From where you stood, you could see the grayish dark circles that stained the underside of his eyes.

"What?" He asked dryly.

You cringed at his tone.

“Wow!” You exclaimed, clearly unsettled. “Bad night, sleeping beauty?”

He growled in response.

“Well, I might as well leave if I piss you off.” You replied, annoyed by his behavior.

"Wait." He hurriedly stopped you while you had your hand on the handle.

Behind you, you heard the crunch of his chair against the floor followed by the sound of his footsteps going around his desk. When he stopped moving, you turned back to him with a suspicious glance.

He was simply standing behind you with his arms limply at his sides. His gaze was slightly shifty, unlike usual, as well as you could see in the nervous movements of his fingers that he wasn't comfortable. Finally, he took a deep breath before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He raised his steely eyes to yours.

“Do you remember about last night?” He asked sharply.

You turned toward him and leaned your back against the door.

"Yes." You replied still annoyed by the start of the conversation. "It makes me high. It doesn't make me so stupid that I forget my evening."

You saw a nervous twitch pass his lips but he did nothing.

"There is a problem with your body." He continued without getting angry despite the fact that he seemed to be seething inside. His nervous movements resumed discreetly. "Your blood isn't like usual and you lit up like a lantern when I scanned you."

You stared at him in silence. You felt accused by his remark. Defensively, you crossed your arms over your chest without even realizing it.

“You must have made a mistake.” You explained.

“I never make a mistake.” He immediately retorted, almost growling.

“And yet you were wrong.” You affirmed.

The air began to crackle with tension around you. Far from avoiding your gaze now, his eyes were firmly planted on yours as he seemed to probe your mind. His face was completely expressionless, if we forget the irritated grin that twisted his lips. His parasitic movements had also completely ceased, leaving behind only his impassive frame which towered over you coldly.

Faced with the situation, which was getting worse, you decided to calm things down.

“Look,” You started, trying to take a softer tone. "you clearly look like a zombie now and you must not have slept all night given your dark circles. There must be a little mess, okay? I'm not sick. I didn't have temperature. I don't hurt anywhere."

You noticed his shoulders unwind and drop as you spoke.

Slowly, you moved from the door before slowly getting closer to him. You approached him as you would with a wild animal. Once in front of him, you raised your hand which you delicately placed against his cold cheek. With the tip of your thumb, you tenderly caressed his cheekbone. You still noticed that, although he didn't lean into the contact, the muscles in his jaw relaxed against your palm.

"I'm fine, Law." You finish smiling.

Then, to your complete astonishment, his hands rested on your hips over the fabric of your t-shirt and pulled you against him. Caught in his embrace, you felt him bend forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. His cold breath hit your collarbone and made you shiver.

However, you raised your arms and wrapped them around his neck to bring him even closer to you. You placed a kiss against his temple at the same time.

"I'm fine, Law." You repeated it to reassure him. "Everything's fine."

From that day on, your relationship with him changed.

Whereas before you both had been quite laid-back and independent, you soon noticed that he appeared in your field of vision a lot more. You had always been this quiet couple who did their activities separately before meeting in the evening to discuss them. But now, he was always in the corner of the room.

You found it quite endearing at first: he was worried about you, unlike some times when he could be quite insensitive.

After so many years living on Earth as a vampire, he had a perception of time quite different from yours which meant that he didn't place as much value on the time spent together. He valued the quality of your time together over its quantity. And it was indeed very pretty on paper but that unfortunately meant that days or even weeks could go by without him giving any sign of life. He would simply show up at the end of the day to naturally ask for some time together—or even just to feed on you—before going back to his studies or his occupations.

It weighed heavily on you at the start of your relationship. You had sometimes wondered if he just saw you as a pleasant way to pass the time or as a simple blood bag. But you knew now that he loved you, after he finally grumpily admitted it after years of dating.

Yet, while you could have sacrificed your entire family at the beginning of your relationship for him to give you this much attention, now it annoyed you.

You saw the doubt in his eyes and it irritated you. He watched you like a babysitter watching over a baby he had to take care of. Or out of fear that you would escape if he looked away for even a second. Except you weren't a child. You were an adult and you would have liked to get this fact into his vampire head.

Besides, he probably must have told the rest of the crew about his paranoid doubts because you also had the impression that they were taking turns keeping an eye on you. When Law was locked in his library or office, they would mysteriously appear one by one at your side.

Bepo asked you to come take a nap with him because he couldn't sleep on his own.

Shachi and Penguin asked you to decide which one of them won after their prank competitions.

Ikkaku asked you to be her partner for a card game since no one else was free to play with her.

The more time passed, the more their attention suffocated you.

Their fear was increased tenfold when, while you were eating dinner together in the Polar Tang refectory, you tried in vain to contain a cough. You had the impression since you woke up that morning that a weight was pressing on your chest while a cat seemed to have taken up residence in your throat. You barely suppressed a groan of annoyance at having coughed at the worst possible time. All the crew's horrified eyes were pointed at you.

“It’s okay,” You tried to justify yourself, laughing. “the water went down the wrong pipe!”

But no one laughs with you.

You heard Law's chair creak precipitously against the floor in the silence of the room and then you felt the icy grip of his fingers between yours. You were immediately lifted from your own chair and he carried you with him down the halls to your room. You tried in vain to explain during the ride but, despite your efforts, he didn't listen.

As soon as your bedroom door closed, he picked you up and threw you onto the bed. He then sat on your lap in a parody of his last meal and pinned you against the mattress to retrieve his sword.

“Come on, Law!” You moan, dissatisfied, for him to stop his cinema.

“Room, scan!” He still whispered seriously above you.

The same shade of blue seeped into your room. Your eyes, however, remained fixed on your lover's and you waited for the moment of realization where they would relax. When he finally saw that you had nothing.

You were okay.

But you looked and all you saw was his eyes widening as a glint that you recognized as fear lit up in his eyes. His mouth opened blissfully in shock, revealing his white teeth with retracted canines that you knew were sharp. His grip loosened around your wrists and he leaned back, stunned, as if he had just been punched in the face.

Faced with this reaction, you felt fear begin to tickle unpleasantly in your stomach. You got up like this, worried, in order to reassure him but the vision you had froze you.

In the mirror that decorated your room behind your lover, you saw your reflections.

The blue light of his Room contrasted harshly with the bright red that spread across your body where all your veins should undoubtedly be. You saw them going in all directions in the smallest corners of your body while giving it a slight reddish tint by proxy. And what mortified you the most was the enormous center of neon red light pulsing from your lungs. They were so clearly visible in the mirror that you had no trouble recognizing the lobes and structures you had seen so many times in Law's scientific journals.

It wasn't possible, you were fine!

You certainly had a little cough a few minutes ago but it was perfectly normal. You lived in a damp and sometimes a little cold submarine that was submerged for more than half the year. You didn't see much sun so your immune system wasn't always at its highest potential. You had caught a cold, that was all.

You turned your confused face towards Law's who was still looking at you in amazement.

"It's just a cold." You tried to soothe him.

"It's not a cold." He countered by recomposing himself. "It's more than that. It's in your blood and it got into your lungs. I don't know what it is, I've read every book I have and I still don't know what it is."

You sighed as you tried to approach him but he moved away from your touch as if you had burned him. Inside, you felt the rejection like a slap in the face.

"It's nothing." You started again anyway. "I just have a little virus or something. I'll be better in a few days."

He glared at you.

"It's not nothing!" He growled now, clearly. "Do you think my Devil Fruit helps me spot birds in the sky? It spots illnesses. Serious illnesses!"

You were going to growl at him for not speaking to you that way, but he cut you off.

"If it's on my scan, it's dangerous. And it's everywhere in your body. In your blood, in your lungs. It's killing you!"

The poorly concealed despair you detected in his tone made you calm down. Even though he was currently annoying you prodigiously, you knew that he really wouldn't get angry in vain. It must have really worried him for him to lose his usual sarcasm and get to this point.

You took a few seconds of silence to let down your irritation.

“Okay,” you continued after calming down. "I understand it could make you panic. It's true that your scan detects anomalies that could be worrying. But it could just be a false alarm, right?"

You saw him take a deep breath.

"Is there anything I could do to reassure you? To prove to you that I'm okay." You asked to appease him.

“Let me replace your lungs.” He announced seriously.

You stood staring at him in disbelief.

"No?" You started in shock. "No! You're not going to replace my lungs for a few doubts!"

"Honestly, it's either this or I turn you into a vampire like me." He explained with a semblance of calm. "It won't change anything for you if I do it with my Ope Ope No Mi. I don't know what molecule is screwing up your body so I can't take it out like that. But I can swap your lungs and try antibiotics and anti-inflammatories to weaken the thing in your blood.”

"No!" You defended yourself, offended.

“Please,” he continued. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you. It's really the only thing that could reassure me. Please."

He looked at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

A heavy silence ruled around you.

“I’m ready to beg you on my knees if necessary.”

You stayed still, shocked by the offer.

“Do you promise nothing will happen to me and that you won’t make a fuss about it again?” You asked him, perplexed.

"I promise."" He affirmed.

You swallowed nervously.

Alright then." You accepted.

[viccharine]

do you guys ever listen to a band so much that you end up making fake merch for it?

(reblogs greatly appreciated!!!!)

close ups and commentary under the cut!

about the poster itself: do you guys know how hard it is to make art for a band that hasn’t been active in 13 years? the answer is HARD (yes, i probably could done research and looked for old interviews for inspiration but who has time for that)

—> the icons related to “take a vacation!” are inspired by lyrics from the song “take a vacation!” (haha, did you see what I did there?) specifically, the lines “we’ll leave the waves at the ocean” and “we’ll leave the sand in a suitcase”

—> the Jon Walker and Ryan Ross icons are taken directly from the album cover (it took ten years off my life trying to figure out how to get them on here w/ the color palette—graphic design may be my passion but I never said i was GOOD at it)

—> the heart imagery comes from the fact that the band’s called “the young VEINS”—although it annoys me IMMENSELY that i technically drew more arteries than veins in the icons (my anatomy teacher would be so disappointed, but alas, anatomical accuracy had to be sacrificed to make it. yknow. look nice)

—> i did hand-lettering for all the text except for everything that’s in Helvetica (i did THAT in canva). the art program i use has a basically unusable text tool so I was forced to draw all of it, so I choose to believe that the reason why it doesn’t look. the best. is because of the caffeine shakes

some extra commentary: am I the only one who’s genuinely REALLY bad at listening to music? i don’t really get into bands as much as i just find songs that sound nice—to illustrate the extent of this issue: i did NOT know that Brendon Urie was a part of Panic! At the Disco. I’m not even kidding, I thought the artist who made Death of a Bachelor and the artist who made A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out were completely different and just. didn’t bother to check if I was right.

also, I’m not the type of person to be interested in band lore???? I rarely know the names of band members if even I’ve listened to the band for years (I really couldn’t care less in most situations)

case in point, i did not know who the FUCK Ryan Ross was!!! i knew he was in p!atd but that’s literally about it—before a couple of days ago if you asked to me pick out either Ryan Ross or Jon Walker from a line up I would not be able to get even CLOSE

anyway, my friend/manager is really into band lore, so I basically got a crash-course in all things “early to late 2000s emo band” and subsequently found out about the Young Veins (i was also extremely disappointed when I found out they only had one album and hadn’t been active in over a decade) THEN I realized that decade old, inactive bands don’t usually have merch, so I made my own! “merch” used lightly—i don’t think this is actually fit to sell lol

anyway that’s all k thanks byeee :D!! (and go stream the young veins!!)

[avengerscompound]

Shared Experience - Chapter 1

Shared Experience - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Canon typical violence

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Rose Astor

Word Count: 1951

Summary:  Rose Astor met her end in 1920, joining the ranks of the living dead two years after the birth of Steve Rogers.  A century later the two meet in battle - a beacon of light clashing with a creature of the night.  Despite their differences, the two bond over their shared life experiences.  Can a vampire become an Avenger?  Can two such different beings create a life together?

Chapter 1

Present Day:

It had been over a week since Rose had last fed and she was starting to feel it.  Vampires didn’t feel hunger the same way as mortals.  It wasn’t a pain in the stomach that gradually worsened the longer it went without being addressed, but rather an almost feral need to consume.  The hunger clouded her mind and started to overwrite every other thought so that everything she looked at was either potential food or an obstacle to getting to the food.  It wasn’t just her mind that was affected though - there was a physical change too.  Her skin was paler than normal, and pulled tight against her bones, making her look gaunt and closer to dead than alive.  Her fangs were more prominent, and her eyes were red.  She hid them under sunglasses that were far too dark for the night and risked drawing people’s attention.

Thankfully, as far as most of the world was concerned, vampires didn’t exist.  Unfortunately, some humans weren’t so clueless.  All over the world were groups of monster hunters who would love to take out a creature of the night like her.  While they tended not to hunt the cities, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be found there.  Wearing dark glasses at night was a sure way to draw their attention.

Rose liked to push herself.  She was a reluctant vampire at the best of times.  Some took to the condition like they were born to it.  Rose had survived, which was more than many.  Most Vampires died within the first year of their turning.  She hadn’t succumbed to the depression of being turned into a monster that some do.  She hadn’t fumbled at one of the rules and accidentally fallen asleep where the sun reached, or in a spot mortals could find.  She hadn’t been killed by a monster hunter - though she had met a Bloodstone, one of the most famous monster hunters.  She hadn’t starved, or been caught feeding.  But she still didn’t love her role as a nightwalker.  She didn’t like feeding on people.  She’d been so social in her human life, and to have the humans, who were once her peers, now be her food sickened her.  She would drink blood from bags if she could get it, but it tasted terrible and never sat very well.  It was also difficult to get, even if she did compel someone to get it for her.  Most of the time she’d find someone who was willing.  Maybe not to donate, but to get close enough to her she could make it seem like she was just giving them a hickey.  It was the easiest way to get by.  If she stayed well-fed, she didn’t need to drain someone completely.  If she didn’t drain them, there was no body to get rid of, and she didn’t have to live with the fact she’d murdered again.

It was boring and lonely despite her physical closeness to humans.  The act was intimate but it highlighted her inability to be close to people again in any real way.  So when it got too much she stopped feeding, seeing how long she could go before the beast took hold.  She liked to draw the attention of hunters.  She liked the struggle for survival when the battle ensued.  It felt fair that way, and if she could take out a hunter it might save a creature that didn’t deserve their wrath.

Of course, there was always the risk that she’d give in and feed on an innocent, but in the last hundred years that had yet to happen.

Tonight she could smell blood.  She always could, in the state she was now - under the skin, safely enclosed in arteries, veins, and capillaries.  Salty and iron-rich and not yet starting to oxidize.  This was different.  It was freshly spilled and free-flowing from multiple sources nearby.  It made her mouth water and her fangs pop out, and despite the rational part of her mind screaming that it was dangerous and stupid to go after the scent, the feral animal part couldn’t resist it.

She followed the scent and the sound of fighting down an alley and into one of the main boulevards.  The street had broken out into complete chaos.  It was a superhero thing.  The kind of fighting that Rose tried to actively avoid.  She had powers - compulsion, strength, the ability to jump so high it resembled flight, and the ability to create and control a mist that shrouded the area around her.  She cared about the fate of the planet and the creatures on it, despite how apart from humanity she felt she didn’t want them all wiped out.  She also didn’t think superheroes would take too well to her kind.  The idea of vampires seemed so diametrically opposed to what superheroes fought for.

Seeing it up close as hungry as she felt it was too hard to resist.  The superheroes were all either in the air or at the far end of the street fighting a bunch of people that seemed to be dressed like different kinds of animals.  At Rose’s end, it was mostly people fleeing to safety, but one of the villains, a man dressed as a tiger, seemed to be snatching children from the crowd and using them as shields.

He was also bleeding.

Rose ran at him as fast as lightning, grabbing him from behind and biting into his neck.  The guy didn’t even have a chance to react before his blood was pouring into her mouth and she was drinking it down.  The children screamed as his body began to sag, and he released the small girl he had been holding.  As the life began to leave his body and the flow of blood slowed, she dropped him to the ground and looked at the cowering children in front of her.  “Where are your parents?”

One of them pointed down the road and she went to herd them in front of her, hoping to get them somewhere safe.  Now she had fed, that need for blood backed off again and she could think clearly.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flying toward her head and without thinking she put up her hand to block it.  It hit her hand hard enough to shatter bones, but that didn’t hurt as much as the way it burned her skin.  She threw it to the side and right away the itchy feeling of her bones knitting together spread through her hand.  On the other hand, the burn was still stinging like she was holding it over the fire.  She had only felt that lingering pain once before when she’d taken hold of a crucifix not long after being turned.  The mark had burned for hours and she still wore the cross-shaped burn in her hand today.

“Step away from the children.”

Rose wheeled toward the sound of the deep, masculine voice, and found herself face to face with Captain America.  He held out his arm and flexed his hand, and his shield returned to him, flying in from the side.  It had been the shield that she’d deflected, and it was the faith people put into that shield that had burned her.

“I was saving them,” she hissed, bracing herself for a fight.  She was strong enough that she thought she could hold her own against the super soldier, but if that shield was a faith object and he was throwing it around, there was a real risk of him taking her out.  Not to mention one of the Avengers was an archer.  An arrow to the heart worked just as well as a stake.

“What did you do to Tiger?” Rogers asked.

“Your job,” she said.  Behind her, the kids were running again, though she was no longer concerned about them.  She knew that they would be his priority over her.  She risked a look over her shoulder and ran, dashing to the side and leaping up the side of the building.  She heard him shout behind her and as she reached the roof, an arrow went whizzing by her ear.

“That was a warning shot,” Hawkeye yelled.  “Stay where you are.”

She froze and began to draw in mist around her, cloaking her from his gaze.  “She’s enhanced.  I’m gonna need help if you want to pursue her,” the archer called

If there was a response to him, Rose didn’t know, she’d taken off again, using the mist to hide her movements.  The arrows flew through the air, too close for comfort, and she snatched one as it reached her, nearly hitting her in the arm.  She kept running and easily jumped the space between buildings.  Even with the mist, she was a target up here,  She could hear footsteps behind her, keeping pace with her preternatural speed, and she knew that there were at least two Avengers who could both fly and had technology that could keep track of her, she just hoped if they did try to use technology, they’d try heat sensors.

“Stop running!”  Captain America’s voice made it through the thick fog.  He was panting from exertion and she kept telling herself that if she just kept running, he would tire before her.

She dropped down the next gap between buildings into an alley, leaving the mist above her as a shroud.  The jump was poorly planned, and she hit a dumpster when she landed, creating a loud crash and drawing the attention of Captain America.  He landed much more gracefully beside her as she was pulling herself out of the trash.  She didn’t stop to square off, she just ran.  Perhaps she could win in hand-to-hand combat, but not with that shield.

“Last warning!” he called, taking after her.  Before she even reached the end of the alley, the shield struck her in the back.  She screamed as her spine fractured when it connected with her.  Her legs gave out and she went sprawling out on the tar.

Steve stepped up over her as she tried to drag herself along.  The bones were knitting, but they wouldn’t knit fast enough for her to get away.  “You broke my spine,” she hissed.

“Stop trying to move,” he ordered.  “Let me help you.”

He tried to help her roll over and she clawed at him, tearing at his armor with her bare fingers.  “Just stop,” Steve repeated.  “You’re caught.  There’s nothing you can do.”

He rolled her over onto her back and she looked up at him.  This man was only a little younger than she was and looked about ten years older.  Of any human on the planet, he shared the most in common with her.  They both grew up in New York in the early twentieth century.  They both lived through World War II.  They both went through a transformation that turned them into something else.  Yet Steve Rogers was a hero and she was a monster.

He held his wrist to his mouth. “I need a medical evac here.  I caught her, she’s injured.”

She looked up at him with alarm and shook her head.  “No, no, no…” I can’t go to a hospital.  I’ll be fine in a second.  I heal.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“If I don’t go somewhere dark, you’ll kill me,” she said.  “You chased me because of what I did to that asshole trying to use children as a shield.  What you end up doing to me if the sun hits my skin will be far worse.”

Steve Rogers narrowed his eyes at her and called his shield back to his arm.  “What the hell are you?”

// NEXT