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replicantdeviancy · 5 months ago

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The seconds that passed as the text on his screen went from delivered to read felt like a small eternity. Connor had been watching the message page so intently, his heart skipped a beat when its status changed. It had been received. Eventually, James would appear & immediately the detective was stressing over how he wanted to appear upon their second meeting. Did he want to go up to the door & wait like a shy teen picking up his crush for a date? Or sit expectantly in the car like some type of pretty faced bad boy? Neither were really his style - as if he'd dated enough to have one - but eventually he came to settle back in his seat & politely wait for his date to emerge from the admittedly quaint little house. Threadbare minutes went by, barely any time at all, yet it was enough for Connor to scrutinize every little thing he could, any potentially perceivable flaw.

Maybe he should have taken his car to the wash first? Did he have any old case files stashed in the glovebox or behind his seat? He had purposefully left his badge & service weapon at home, desperate to himself disconnect from his work, if only for the night. Was the priest going to care about any of the silly little details? Realistically, no. This wasn't some boy or girl his own age that Connor was intent on cavorting about town with. James was older, matured & aged like fine wine, with more than enough fire left in him to keep up with the much younger cop. Connor told himself that he needn't worry, that the critical thoughts intruding upon his peace were the product of unnecessary anxiety.

As soon as the door to the little home opened & the priest appeared, all disquieted musings running through his mind immediately ceased. For that brief instance, there was nothing & nobody else. Dressed in something a little more relaxed, yet no less immaculate, the priest gave off an aura about him that just screamed silver fox. The younger man couldn't help staring dumbly as he approached, & soon enough, the handsome gentleman that looked like some charming prince from his teenage fantasies was settling into the passenger seat of his car. Face to face once again, it wasn't more than a scant moment before James was expressing his endless wit. It broke Connor from his silently stupefied staring as a laugh was easily drawn from him, a goofy grin warming his features . Without fail, the older man banished his self-criticizing thoughts & effortlessly stole all of his attention. It wasn't something the detective was used to, but he wanted to try. That kind of calm felt nice.

"Well, hello to you, too, handsome," came his own cheeky remark in greeting, his expression softening to a dreamy little smile that played upon his doll-like lips. Head tilted, laid back against the headrest as soft, rich brown eyes watched ocean hues, trying to gauge him. But all he could think about was the color in perfect contrast with graying black, how vibrant they were in the natural light of the early evening. Beautiful. James had arguably won the genetic lottery; handsome , brilliantly smart. Connor knew he was helpless to disguise how smitten he was by the way he looked at the man, even as he teased him right back, meeting him beat for beat. "Who says I don't have flowers waiting in the back seat?” An obvious jest - the little electric was a two seater vehicle. But the mock offense that momentarily washed over his pretty visage was just as devilishly cheeky as it was teasing. A second later, he was all fond smiles & affection again , glad to drink in those sweet compliments.

Hardly ego tripping. There was a soft sincerity to the older man's words that warmed the detective, made him really believe that every bit of it was true. While he didn't necessarily agree that he would go breaking anyone's heart with his boyish good looks , the European had a way about him that made Connor feel beautiful. His gaze lowered in a coy instance, thick lashes partially obscuring the view of those richly hued irises. “I wanted to look nice for you. I thought that you deserved something pretty to look at." Now his voice returned to that soft, almost sultry tone, though the faint hints of shyness never left the dusky intonations. His gaze returned to that of the priest, one side of his mouth quirking up into a delicate smile. “You though… You look just as incredible as I remember.” & he meant it. James looked wonderful, just as handsome & suave as before, though the new attire he wore offered a different kind of intrigue.

That wasn't to say that the older man had looked stuffy at all, dressed as prim & proper as he had been for church. Far from it. Connor wondered if there was ever a time in which James ever appeared anything less than well put together, or if he were really just as infallible as he seemed. Of course, Connor didn't spare him a moment without taking an opportunity to flirt. "I almost miss that— You know, the collar. But I'm appreciating the appeal of a little clavicle on display." His eyes darted towards the hint of chest barely hidden away, letting out a silly little laugh as he slipped his seatbelt back on & started the car with a press of the pushbutton ignition. There was barely a sound as the electrical system engaged, the only indication it was even on being from the screen at the center of the dash & the instrument panel coming to life.

It seemed that James wasn't the only one eager to go, though it wasn't for any reason besides wanting to enjoy his time with the older man. Connor wanted to see the priest relaxed, in his own element & not tied to duty or obligation. It was clear to the both of them that each took their professions quite seriously, but outside of the shackles of professionalism, they could be entirely themselves. Connor wanted to see that. He also wanted to get the man talking. James was so much more full of life experience. The detective expected he had lived a rather interesting life, rich with knowledge of so many things the younger had never heard of before. He felt he could listen to the priest speak for hours, & that was what he was intent on doing.

"Didn't stay at the precinct long. I may have snuck out…" A simple shrug, almost flippant in nature. Naughty thing. Connor wasn't always such a stickler for the rules, especially when he had other plans in mind. Besides that, he doubted very much that the priest could tire him out. Setting the car into gear, he glanced towards his date with a quiet enthusiasm that was bubbling beneath the surface. “So. Where are we going?”

There were times when James needed reminding that he was only human. Standing firmly in between Heaven and Hell, between angels and demons and all else that walked the Earth's soil, was it any wonder why he often forgot that he was simply a man? Not because he thought himself higher, or even lower, but the simple fact that he still needed to look after himself, still needed to eat, sleep and everything else that so many took for granted, that came so easily and naturally to them. It hadn't taken long for him to drift into bad habits, missing meals, grabbing barely a handful of hours sleep, pushing himself as he exercised just to have something else to focus on for a while. The burn of his muscles, the ache of them, it was something to think about, something to distract him from all the otherworldly and unworldly concerns that rattled around inside his head.

It was days like today that he welcomed most, not the investigation part, which was just a part of the norm for him, but getting to meet someone who tugged at his thoughts, drew him away from his fears and that never-ending feeling as if he were swallowed whole by the very darkness he so desperately fought against. The American was fascinating, intelligent, well-spoken, a good conversationalist, it seemed, what else did someone like James need to squirrel him away for a few beautiful hours? He certainly wouldn't gripe about the fact that Connor was rather handsome as well, a face that the Brit could imagine all manner of people, and otherwise, most likely, who would happily squeeze those cheeks in their hands and gaze into those hazel eyes. Dirty old man, he thought to himself, though it was hardly outright self-depreciation when he couldn't quite hold back one of his sly smiles at the mere thought of it. Why not indulge himself a little? Enjoy his time while he still had some before he finally became some grumpy old man who'd sit in his house all day and complain about modern music and how people were dressed these days at an ageing cat and dog. Some of that didn't sound entirely unwelcome, mainly the latter part, just another hope of his that when everything was said and done, he could sit back and enjoy the innocent company of some pets.

How wonderfully simple it seemed, so -- - normal. One could only hope.

No, for now, that was all he was, just some bloke going out on a date, no angel on his shoulder, no demon whispering in his ear, not even a priest and a detective, it was just him and Connor. Pausing by the mirror of one of the wardrobes, there he was again, that old silver-haired man staring back at him, a tiredness about him that seemed to stay regardless of how long he slept. Not that he managed much anyway, if he was able to get a solid eight hours, he was more than happy. Where had all that time gone? Would Connor have preferred him when he'd been a young man himself? That dark-haired lad without a lick of shame in him. Maybe that part hadn't quite left him, but now he held an air of wisdom that he hadn't back then, purely from lack of experience, he'd still been so new to the supernatural world, thrown in the deep end and expected to wade his way through from there. But he'd still enjoyed himself, still snuck out in the middle of the night during seminary school, escaping the dorms to meet with his friends and go to the pub, parties, whatever they could find or put together and spend the night dancing, singing and drinking, until the wee hours of the morning and James had to sneak his way back inside and try to sleep off some of the merriness in a few hours or so. If even that.

Needless to say, there had been times when he'd been caught. Once when he was halfway through a basement window, one leg in, one out and Fr. Larraby stood there eyeing him with disappointment and disgust as the scent of alcohol and cigarettes emanated from the Northerner. Even now, James couldn't help but laugh at the memory, not regretting it then and not regretting it now. Would Connor even look at that young man? Would they more than likely find themselves on opposing sides? James being dragged into the police station in handcuffs after being found wandering the streets with his friends as they drunkenly sang at the top of their lungs? He'd never been picked up like that back in the day, but he imagined things would be rather different now, rules felt stricter, people had less patience in some cases and for all sorts of reasons. Some reasonable, some not. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like growing up nowadays in comparison to what he'd known.

There it was again, that twinge of old age nagging at him.

Shaking it off with a literal shake of his head, he studied himself in the mirror, focusing on what he was wearing right down to his socks and shoes which he pulled on. Yet as he did so, a noise came from his phone, a text, which meant it wasn't some sort of emergency that was about to ruin his entire evening. Most of his peers knew that if they needed to contact him, it was best to phone him when it was something immediate, otherwise he took a far more lax approach in general. Unless he was expecting something, of course. Which he was at that moment, wondering if it really was Connor or just another scam text coming through in the hopes that he'd click some dodgy link. Moving with purpose, the Englishman grabbed his mobile from the bed, a wide grin enveloping his expression at the familiar number that came up. It was him.

It was now or never. Taking in a breath, James glanced around to make sure he had everything he needed, phone, wallet, keys, that was all he could really think of, all he could imagine needing. Quickly moving to the front door, that smile claimed him again as he opened it, sighting what he presumed to be the detective's car before he was able to see him inside it. He locked the house, checking the door handle just to be sure, it wasn't his house after all, the last thing he wanted was for it to be ransacked while he was away. A burglar would likely be rather confused by the contents though, it wasn't every day someone broke into a house and found holy water, books on demons and everything any other priest could possibly need or think of.

"No box of chocolates or bouquet of roses? I'm disappointed." The man uttered as he opened the car and slid inside, offering a faux huff of annoyance. "Suppose you'll just have to make it up to me some other way then." That wry smile settled again, spreading into a full-on grin as his tongue slid along his upper row of teeth with genuine amusement. He wasn't being serious, of course. He didn't expect a thing from anyone for any reason, even a date, or whatever label could be stamped on to the evening ahead of them. Settling himself, he pulled on his seatbelt before finally taking a moment to look at Connor, really look at him. "Well, don't you clean up nice?" Not that he'd been a mess before but James couldn't resist teasing him a little anyway. "Very handsome... break a lot of hearts with that gorgeous face of yours. It's a wonder I'm not fighting off potential suiters at this very moment." Admittedly, that was partly true, he genuinely wouldn't expect someone of Connor's visage and standing to be interested in a greying middle-aged man rather than a flock of youngsters around his own age and creed, not that he was going to complain about it.

"Paperwork didn't wear you out too much, I hope?" He asked as he sat back more comfortably, more than a little energised by the other man's presence and being so close to him again. This time without their jobs looming over them. For the most part. "Wouldn't want to be put to shame by an old man, now would we?"

#cheekypriest #˾ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ & ᴄɪɢᴀʀᴇᴛᴛᴇꜱ ̚ ;; ⁱ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰʸ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁱ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈ ᵒʳ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵉ.▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #Had a thought about when Connor has to arrest James.#Takes him to the station in his car. He purposely doesn't mirandize him.#So that anything he says to him is not permissible in court. Protective boy.#He may absolutely have a cigarette. Connor won't mind at all.

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xtattybye · 2 years ago

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STARTER FOR @FAYOFAVALON

“ My god, it reeks to death in here… ” Reaver murmured. A rather dramatic more than audible exhalation tirelessly emits midst a rolling of his eyes as he sticks the dragonstomper.48 back to its holster. His deep brown eyes then briefly hover at the blood that still gushes out of the newly digged fatal hole in the back of one of staff' head, who of course had been shot by no one else than Reaver simply because no one could ever get their heads around his ridiculously unpredictable and immoral rules. A sight so gruesome, yet enough to spark that smug smirk that seems to forever linger onto Reaver's devilishly handsome visage, now an indirect indication to his inner masochism. “ Oh don't look at me like that! ” He snapped, baring his front brilliant white teeth by raising his upper lip in a muted diva snarl. “ I told you not to bring me that wine, specifically… the obsolete vin ordinaire. My what a disaster that one is, how dare you hurt my feelings like that, thinking I would even bare the smell of such a peasant' beverage. Yuck! ” Reaver then carelessly stepped over the butler's corpse as he snaps his fingers to command one of his maids to clean up the mess he just made whilst he just stood there balancing on his golden cane, checking his nails and living in his full queer diva rich bitch moment. “ Oh by the way, I'm taking myself on a little holiday starting today. I want this manor to be all neat and tidy once I return, no finest of little tiny particles wasting my expensive floors. Oh and refill all rooms their storage compartments with some condoms, there have been enough little accidents knocking on my door so far and I'm way too much on a budget these days to be paying any child support. Not that it's much of a budget, I just don't like to see some peasant use my well-earned money on something as idle as a piece of bread. Very well then, I'll be back in one month, perhaps two if this new world keeps me interested. Make sure everything I've written down on this list will be done in perfect form and don't you dare forget getting me those 1.2 million golden toilet paper rolls. ” And just like that, Reaver waved his staff a tattybye before disappearing out of his study, having taken his favorite maid called Misa along to be his pack mule as they both headed out of the manor into the forest. It was quite a bit of a walk to get to the shore where they could sail his ship to some island he once discovered back in the pirate days. But luckily for Reaver, he didn't have to carry any of his unnecessary stuff as his maid was doing all the work for him. Even though she was the only maid whom he considered somewhat close enough to consider a friend, he'd still treat her just as equal as the rest, even after they had shared quite the conversations and nights together; he liked to keep her anywhere but near getting her hopes up, as considering him anything more than just her master would be one big no go.

The ship sailed off to the island that'd eventually make a start to his holiday. He was in desperate need of a new world, not only to explore and learn new things, but to escape his past also. Albion always held certain memories in the back of his head which he'd find harder and harder to escape with just some wild partying. Sometimes he needed to change up his surroundings completely and what better way to do it than to travel to a whole other world? He never believed that portals where a real thing, not until he came across one himself and this was the first time he'd be taking Misa to another world with him. Not that he'd expect her to survive in it, not without him. She was fragile, both physically and mentally. But what he didn't know was that when it'd really come to it, she'd have quite the surprise for both of them, perhaps the entire kingdom, as she had yet to discover herself that she was the missing princess of Albion. Amnesia still had her in its grip and King Logan and everyone else probably thought that she had long been dead after Logan had gotten rid of her when she was younger, not knowing that she had found her way into Reaver Industries before becoming his headmaid.

After a while sailing, the island slowly made its presence known before them as Reaver would sail further towards it. Eventually as they arrived, he was quick to be the first to set foot onto the land and didn't waste mere second on waiting for Misa to catch up on him as he'd find his way towards the entrance of a cave. Misa had been trying to catch up on him by running as fast as her legs could take her while carrying all of his stuff, the poor maid was out of breath once they finally arrived and yet still would have to follow him around the cave not to get lost. Normal people would already have quit working for him and prefer death over slavery, but in her case the poor girl had fallen in love with her master, thinking she could find the good in him and change him. But that was something Reaver would never allow to happen, not even when there was a time where he too felt something for her. But that was something he's kept a secret for a long time now and feelings exist to be suppressed.

Finally after going through this maze of a cave they arrived at the portal. And of course Reaver had to be the one to get through first, with Misa hurriedly following him to the new world; Camelot.

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bluestringpudding · 3 years ago

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Dear Diary...

Today I remembered that a while ago I wrote this nonsense for a reddit prompt that has since been deleted (sad times) but was along the lines of "Tom Riddle used the diary like any other normal teenager would."

Dear Diary,

I fear that today I may have made a grevious error. There I was, walking along the third floor corridor busy with my thoughts of world domination and immortality when who should approach me but a filthy Mudblood.

But not any filthy mudblood, oh no, the one with the cutest little button nose I told you about last month that I decided I would show benevolent mercy to when the Mudblood day of reckoning came.

Well, so engrossed in my evil plans was I, that I walked straight into her! But here we come to the crux of my heinous crime. I became so distracted by that adorable noggin of hers that I seem to have lost control of my tongue.

I apologised dear Diary - to a Mudblood.

I am so ashamed that I may never be able to look my fellow Slytherins in the face again.

As I write I realise there is only one course of action. To denounce all noses from henceforth. I shall work tirelessly until my nose is no longer casting its long shadow, even if it does wreak havoc on my devilishly handsome visage. Then I once I have completed my world domination I will ban all noses so that no one have to face such humiliation again.

Yours mortified,

The Noseless Lord

#hp #tom riddle #lord voldemort #harry potter microfic #crack #diary #Tom Riddle was an angsty teenager too #he took it too far

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dreadpiratejones · 3 months ago

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@travelingthroughworlds

ONCE UPON A TIME 6.04, Strange Case

#devilishly handsome (visage)#bookish beauty (belle)

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rokachan · 3 years ago

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New Years Kiss

Fluffy ears fanned at the sound of footsteps, head tilting to peer in the direction the came. A blonde, tall (though nearly everyone was tall to the waif), with... Sunglasses? That seemed peculiar for the evening setting and festivities.

She had certainly seen stranger things though, and some people did so enjoy their mystery.

She might have entirely dismissed his existence if not for catching that which sat upon his brow. Pale eyes narrowed and hackles rose, the creature drawing herself up to her full and unimpressive height as she drew her lips into a thin line.

Evidently her attention on the man was mistaken in intent, and he swerved to plant a quick kiss in passing as bells rang to announce the start of a new turn. Clearly she was sulking because there was no devilishly handsome and mechanically brilliant body about to kiss her upon the new year! A favour had been done!

The catte did not see it that way, a hiss thrown at his retreating visage as she scrubbed the sleeve of her shirt across her lips and spun her attention elsewhere, trying to recall who she had summoned as her guard for tonight so that she might tear into them for slacking so horrifically in their duty.

#ask answered #roka #thank you for the ask!!! <3 #went with nero out of the options I saw you write #because he seemed the most likely to smooch a stranger

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leonicscorpio · 4 years ago

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The Visit: A Jason Todd x Reader Fic

For @nat-wing . One of my best friends, one of my guiding lights, and the person who dragged me into Batman hell. Enjoy.

"Human kindness, gentlemen, is made for the purses of millionaires. With financial power like mine, you can afford yourself a new world order..."

*THUD*

The sound of a backpack crashing next to you jolted you out of the line of the play you were reading. Raising your head to see the source of the noise, you met eyes with your new friend, Jason. Jason Todd.

"What's wrong, y/n, you look like you just saw a ghost" Jason let out, immediately following with a light chuckle and a half-smile. Taking seat next to you at the park bench, Jason started to open up the backpack, revealing a copy of the same book you had. The Visit by Friedrich Durrennmat.

"So, how do you like it thus far?" Jason inquired. You took a look up towards his face and despite his chisled facial features, the thing that always caught your attention were his eyes. The striking sapphire blue eyes allured as much as it frightened. Beneath the mask of the handsome face of the playboy heir of the Wayne Conglomerate and adoptive son of Bruce Wayne hid a maelstrom. A violent sea of torrential anger and oppressive hatred. His eyes have always frightened you, but you never judged Todd for anything because he's always treated you with the respect you've afforded him.

"It's interesting Jason" you let out. You couldn't help but be intimidated by his presence. Here you are, a lonely bachelor living in a converted tenament in Gotham City, a barista, reading a Swiss play with one of Gotham's biggest socialites. Jason came into your cafè seemingly every day, mentioned how the espresso is his favorite in all of Gotham. Some days he came in for a quick coffee run, dressed to the bones like he's about to attend a charity event, others he came in and sat down, getting lost in a book, wearing sweatpants and a signature red or black hoodie.

"Only interesting?" Jason had inquired. Indeed, The Visit had been a fascinating, but difficult read. Following the story of an eclectic billionairess in her twilight years named Claire Zachannasan, coming back to her home town hell bent on it's destruction and rebirth. You had just entered the play's third and final act when Jason arrived.

"In some ways, Claire reminds me of you Jason." You chuckle. You pay extra attention to see how his face reacts to such a bold statement. His face contorts into half-hearted shock, but his eyes are smiling. Prideful, it seems he got the results he wanted. You almost lost yourself in his handsome face with boyish hair when you felt the coastal winds of the park beach alongside the Gotham Oceanfront Jason had requested to meet you at.

"And what makes you say that?" Jason had pushed, bringing his arm away from the book and stretching it across to your side of the bench, his arm was extended behind your back and easily could have wraped one arm around you. And Jason's arms were quite large. Hell, the man himself almost came to challenge Bruce in terms of physique. All of his adoptive brothers were always the more slim, athletic, graceful builded ones. Jason was built like a statue, imposing muscles matched only with an imposing barrel of a chest. You thought to yourself what it would be like to feel those ripling muscles under his red hoodie and modestly branded jeans.

"Well, for starters, Claire is a billionaire, as are you." you said, noting Jason's left eyebrow cock, "well, heir to a billionaire in your case." You corrected. "There is a very pretinant theme of justice throughout the play. It's clear to tell that by using the power and wealth that she has aquired, Claire hopes to enact her own brand of justice." You had listed off. Looking to see Jason's response, you saw a smile begin to purse on his lips. This time of acceptance. It seems you gave Jason the satisfactory answer.

"Very good." Jason had smiled. "But, forgive me for asking, y/n, why do you think I care so much about justice?" Manipulation. Although you can tell Jason's interest and inquirery is genuine, you can tell he has ulterior motives in asking you this question. However you cannot ascertain why. You took a look in his eyes but only met the hurricane making landfall on a beach, threatening to consume all in it's might surge. His face is telling you to explain and ponder further, but his eyes indicate that of a predator about to snap at your jugular.

"I uh.. well." You stammered. Only soon to realize Jason had wrapped his arm securely around you, this gesture would have been romantic given any other context, but knowing what you know about Jason Todd and reading his mannerisms, you felt like a deer in headlights. You were frightened, but also enchanted. Jason's arm was heavy and strong, but not forceful, it was more securing than anything. It made you feel like you were protected from even Gotham's worst.

"Don't worry, y/n, I'm joking, I'm sorry if I intimidated you. But I'm glad you're liking the play, it became a favorite of mine recently." Jason stated.

"So you do relate to Claire." You poked, Jason had scoffed and retorted.

"I never said I did." Jason stated quite matter of factly. Having said that, Jason pulled you closer to him, to the point that your thighs were touching and you were pressed up against his side. You gave out a light gasp. Shocked at Jason's suddenness. "I'm hope I'm not making you uncomfortable, y/n." Jason apologized, the sincerity was genuine. Jason may have been able to play people like the fiddle, as you have seen from interactions at the cafè. However you sensed no malitious intent from the billionare. "I want you to know I like you a lot, y/n. You make the best Cafè Americcanos, and you actually listen to people when I reccomend 1950's swiss literature to them."

Hearing the last line made you laugh a little. You soon felt yourself subconsciously pressing laying your head along Jason Todd's powerful chest. It was just as you had imagined it. Powerful and secure. As you listened to his heart beat, you couldn't help but notice the extreme radiant warmth coming from Jason. With one arm wrapped around you, you felt like you had your own supersoldier their to protect you. "Thank you Jason, I like you a lot as well." You laugh as you made yourself comfortable enwraped in the massive man. To think you, a lonely kid from the suburbs found your way into the arms of one of the heirs of Wayne Enterprises. You, you felt like a nobody compared to Jason Peter Todd. However, one thing continued to bother you, and you wanted an answer.

"Jason, can I ask you something?" You had let into the atmosphere.

"Sure y/n, ask away." Jason had invited.

"Do you hate being a Wayne? Do you hate Bruce?" You raised your head to see the face not a couple inches in front of you and saw a crack in the visage. You made the mistake of focusing on his eyes again and realized just what you had done and what situation you landed yourself in. Beneath the mask you saw exactly what you had hypothesized. Inside the eyes of Jason Todd you saw rage. Hot, blinding, searing rage. You weren't in the arms of an angel any longer, you were in the claws of an apex predator.

"What." Jason had said blankly. It seemed his face alluded to more shock than anger. You craacked the façade and found what lies beneath, and you were afraid. However, curiosity forced you to try to dive deeper.

"To be candid with you, y/n, I do have a lot of anger towards my family, but at the end of the day, they are my family." Jason stated politically. You can tell this was a diversion to try to end the conversation. Realizing just the situation you were in it was for the best that Jason was giving you a get-out-of-Arkham-free-card. "But I will say, you are devilishly inquisitive y/n. How did you deduce that?"

"There's a lot of anger in your eyes Jason, you're bottling up a lot of anger and I don't think it can be healthy for you." You stated. You felt Jason give a hearty laugh as your head bounced from his chest. You didn't even take the opportunity to breath him in while you were down on his chest. The aromas of tobacco, dried sweat, and overtly expensive colonge studded with tonka and sandalwood tickled your nose.

"I guess you're right..." You can tell Jason had more he wanted to admit, but was interupted by the vibration of his phone. Taking a look to see who was calling. Jason let out a groan. You pushed yourself up off of his chest and gave Jason the space to answer the call in privacy.

'what is it Dick I'm busy... Really, now..? Ugh, fine. I'll be there in 10. Tell Bruce he owes me for this.' with that Jason ended the call and heaved himself off the park bench. "I'm so sorry Y/n but a family emergency came up." Jason said, as he made his way back towards the enterance of the park, you exchanged your farewell with the handsome man you just had an exchange with. Before you left, Jason had yelled out "you want an answer to your question? Keep reading the play." Jason had finished. Noting what he had said you opened The Visit back to the exact spot you had left off. As you finished the line by the elder Claire Zachannasan you felt ice run down your veins. Suddenly you felt an intense fear at the thought of Jason by this last sentence.

"The world turned me into a whore, so I shall turn the world into a brothel."

#jason todd #Batfam #Jason Todd x Reader #Smut #ahhsgshaksmdndj MY FIRST PUBLISHED FIC IN LIKE A DECADE WOW HUH.#The Visit by freidrich durrennmatt

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bang-and-a-blintz · 4 years ago

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Through the Darkness

CHAPTER EIGHT - TWELFTH NIGHT

I am terribly sorry this took so damn long to update. With everything going on right now, writing about having fun in Nola feels akin to writing about a lost loved one, but I’m trying to make it cathartic. I just miss the good ol’ days before the Plague States. Oh well. Here’s an extra long chapter for the wait!

Cheers!

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: TW bloooooooood

Word Count: 6,770

Sanguine looked different in the daylight. The shadows in which it hid were not so prominent underneath the bright sun. Dracula took notice of how well the dark tones of the exterior blended with the hanging branches of the oak trees. It wasn't as foreboding in the gentle light. In fact, it was actually oddly comforting; there was something reassuring in its darkness.

Dracula took a deep breath, if only just to smell the jasmine flowers lingering in the air, and smiled. He leisurely strolled down the crooked sidewalk towards the restaurant. He didn't know if she was there nor did he think of if they were even open; he just went ahead and made his way to the entrance, taking the unlocked doors as a good enough invitation. Not that it was important or anything, but he had already been welcomed in previously. It was more of an attempt to be polite, common courtesy, and…dare he even think it, kindness.

Perhaps eating people in the South was starting to rub off on him. Though, he was irrevocably grateful not to accumulate the accent.

Silently, he entered the establishment. The front entry was dark but there was a sweet aroma wafting from the kitchen and he could hear the sound of music playing softly in the background.

She must be cooking.

The music grew louder as Dracula made his way towards the back, pausing at the doorway. Her back was to him, she was swaying back and forth, fixing up some sort of dessert, and blissfully ignorant to the creature of the night that crept up behind her.

"Smells delicious." He commented lightly, leaning against the door jam. Roxana jumped and gave a strangled yelp, spinning around with wide eyes. She held the sifter up like a weapon, the powdered sugar that she had been using was now spattered all over her. Once she saw the owner of the voice, however, her face dropped into that of a furious glare.

"For fuck's sake, Dracula!" She groaned in dismay, placing a hand on her forehead while he fought a laugh. "You need a bell."

"Perhaps if you paid more attention to your surroundings, you wouldn't be so easily startled."

Roxana sighed, "Why are you even here?"

The Count just shrugged and gave her that unnerving smile. He was bored, but he wasn't about to let her know that.

She rolled her eyes and returned to the task at hand. He made his way over to her side, curious as to what she was so focused on. Before them was a large platter filled with golden pastries of some sort, piled high, there had to have been a dozen or so. She was topping them off with a dusting of powdered sugar as they cooled.

"What's this?"

"Beignets." She spoke, refusing to look at the vampire who had moved closer. He hovered over her shoulder, perfectly content with encroaching on her personal space.

Finishing up, Roxana wiped off the counter and tried to clean the remaining sugar from her shirt. It was futile as the powder just continued to seep into the fabric. With a huff, she unbuttoned the chef jacket and tossed it in a bin, making a mental note to have it washed later.

She had been baking several batches of beignets all day. It was Twelfth Night; a special holiday in New Orleans and the only day that Roxana made these particular pastries. Every year, she would whip up a platter-full and bring them all to her favorite bar so her friends could enjoy while they celebrate together.

After washing her hands, she wrapped the platter up for transport before finally turning to address the annoying bat in the room.

"Alright, what is it?"

Dracula looked at her innocently, hands in the pockets of yet another immaculately fitted suit.

"Do you need something or are you just here to keep tabs on me?"

"I was in the neighborhood." He said with a shrug.

"You're not a very good liar."

He had the audacity to look affronted and placed a clawed hand on his chest, "Ouch."

Roxana glanced at the clock on the wall behind his head. She knew that Al would be there any minute to pick her up and she needed to get the vampire out before that happened.

"Well, as much as I adore your company, Count," She said sarcastically, looking back into his onyx gaze, "I actually have somewhere to be. So if you would, please…"

She gestured towards the door, but Dracula didn't move an inch. He just tilted his head slightly and a smile spread across his lips, just barely showing the sharp teeth beneath.

"What?" Roxana snapped, exasperated with his stare.

The Count's grin widened slightly, "It's just curious."

"What is?"

"That this time around you're a chef."

There was a pause and Roxana furrowed her brow in confusion, "I'm not sure I follow…"

He slowly circled her, taking one large step after another, like a panther stalking its prey. Not baiting him, Roxana just crossed her arms and tensely waited for him to quit his theatrics.

"You see, dearest Roxana, the first Van Helsing I came across was Sister Agatha, a rather fiery nun from a convent in Budapest, I believe it was. She was full of repressed desires, finding interest in all things darkly supernatural. Agatha was...truly one of a kind. Sharp as a knife too!"

Roxana narrowed her eyes. Was it just her or did he sound almost nostalgic?

The Count continued on with a humorless laugh, "Yes, she...ah, taught me a thing or two. But then she had to go and blow up the ship, sinking herself into the bottom of the ocean. No matter. Her spirit popped up again in the form of a Doctor. Zoe was cynical to boot. As a scientist, it made sense, for she didn't truly believe something until there was foolproof evidence."

He came to a stop in front of her and motioned to himself.

"Must've been quite the shock to see me strolling out of the depths of the dark water, hm?" He smirked.

"It'd be a shock if you could wrap up this story soon." Roxana muttered, eyeing the time.

His head tilted to the side, "Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

She groaned, running a hand through her hair in frustration. This was going nowhere. He was nothing more than a child wearing the suit of a giant man…er, bat.

"Look, my friend is picking me up and we're going out. I would really rather not have a vampire loitering about in my restaurant. So I'd appreciate it if you would please leave, Dracula."

His eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulled at his lips; he looked like a kid who got their sno-cone knocked out of their hand on a blistering hot and humid day. She bit back her laugh at the thought.

"HAPPY TWELFTH NIGHT, BABY!" Al's shout rang loudly through the kitchen as the sound of his heavy footfalls came closer from around the corner.

Oh fuck, she thought as her eyes widened at the vampire and she instinctually grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the back door. Before she could get there, her sous-chef slash best friend let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Bitch, what! Rox, you brought back Mr. Tall, Dark, and Devilishly Handsome?!"

Roxana whipped back to face her friend who was looking between her and Dracula with a wide smirk. His eyes glanced pointedly at her hand clutching onto the vampire's arm and she ripped it away as if he was on fire.

"It's not what it looks like!"

The moment the words fell from her mouth, Dracula draped his arm around her shoulder and she could just feel the smugness radiating from him.

"Oh, it is exactly what it looks like." He purred, grinning ear to ear. "Good to see you again."

Al looked like he was going to explode, his mouth warping stupidly as he tried, and failed, to keep the glee from his face.

Roxana ducked out of Dracula's embrace and sent her friend a look of warning, making her way over to him. "Don't even start."

He made a motion with his hand that spoke of keeping his lips zipped, but she knew him far better than that. He would probably wait till later to hound her; most likely when she was too drunk to care because he was a sneaky asshole like that. Good thing she had a particularly high tolerance.

"What is that?" Dracula appeared at their side, gazing down at the rectangular box in Al's hands.

"It's a King Cake, baby!" At his dumbfounded look, the New Orleanians immediately took offense. Al gasped dramatically and placed a hand over his heart, almost as if the words had physically struck him, while Roxana looked at the vampire like he'd grown another head.

"You've never heard of a King Cake? How long have you been down here?" She questioned him incredulously.

The Count just made a facial shrug. It wasn't like he ate food anyway, so why would he be concerned about some local dessert?

"Oh my god, I just fucking can't. Let me find out ya boy don't know what a damn King Cake is…" Al grumbled and opened the box, placing it on the table so the three of them had space to hover over it.

The cake was made up of woven cinnamon and sugared dough that braided together to form a giant circle. A sleek pool of icing covered the entire top and dripped slightly down the sides; over that were layers and layers of purple, green, and gold sprinkles to give it the true Mardi Gras flair.

It was already sliced up into even little portions. Al took the first piece, glanced at the side, and then gave a huff, "Ain't no baby."

Roxana smirked and snagged a slice for herself, but before she could check her own piece, she noticed the look of absolute bewilderment on the vampire's face.

"Baby?"

"Not an actual child," She laughed at his wary visage, "No, no, it's part of the tradition."

Dracula's brow furrowed.

Well, with his aversion to holy symbolism, she supposed it made sense that he didn't understand what Kings Day even was.

"Okay, you look beyond lost so I'll give you a brief history." Roxana took a bite of her cake - no baby. She chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and continued her bit, "Today is the official start of the Mardi Gras season, or also sometimes known as Carnivale. It is called Twelfth Night because it is precisely twelve days after Christmas; the night that the three kings visited the sweet, little baby Jesus in his manger."

He grimaced.

Christianity was still a touchy subject, it seemed.

"So why a…cake?"

"It's a symbol of unity; woven in thirds to honor the three kings. The Mardi Gras coloring each have a meaning as well; purple represents justice, green for faith, and gold for power. We like to have fun down here, so we hideaway a small plastic baby inside, and whoever finds the baby receives good fortune!"

"And the next cake is on them!" Al supplied, already on his third slice and shoving it into his frowning gob as he still had not found the baby. He handed a piece to Dracula. "You have to try it, Dong Phuong makes the best!"

The Count gave Roxana a side glance to which she just smiled sweetly, "Yes, Mr. Balaur, you simply have to try it!"

She could see the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth tightly.

"I can't." He bit out, throwing her a dangerous look. Roxana noticed the darkening of his eyes and quickly realized she did not want to be testing the vampire's patience when her dear friend was so near.

"Shit, I forgot," She gave him a look of mock-concern before turning to Al and intercepting the offered slice, "He's on the Keto diet. Not allowed to have sugar or any sort of pastries."

Al's eyes grew wide in actual worry, "Oh no, that…that's horrible. I'm so sorry."

One would've thought that she had told him Dracula's mother had just died with how devastated he was at the news. The Count just shrugged with a placid grin, not knowing what the hell either of them were talking about.

He had never even heard of such a thing.

"Yeah, he's trying to cut back a little, huh?" Roxana couldn't resist giving him two small pats on his tummy for emphasis.

He then understood and was entirely unimpressed by her implication.

"Oh baby, you look fine!" Al waved his hand and boxed up the remainder of the cake. "Well, we should head out 'cause the crew is waiting on our slow asses."

Roxana threw on her jacket and grabbed the platter of beignets, but then paused, looking hesitantly at Dracula. She didn't want to be completely rude, but she had to figure out something to say to make him leave. The last thing she needed was for this undead warlord joining them.

That would be a recipe for disaster.

"Hey Mr. Balaur, you coming?" Al called out from the doorway.

Her sous-chef was incredibly efficient in ruining her plans sometimes…or maybe he just had a death wish.

Dracula gave a non-committal shrug, but she knew better as he turned and threw her a sly grin, "Why yes, I would love to join you all."

Of course he would, she thought with an internal groan. She sent a quick prayer out to the universe that nothing deadly would take place this evening, but knowing the Count, that was probably nothing more than a pipe dream.

He bent down and swiped something from the floor that Roxana couldn't quite see from over the mountain of pastries she was carrying. In a move of suspicious chivalry, he held the door open for her and as she went to pass, she saw what he had grabbed.

Sitting delicately between two of his claws was the tiny, pink plastic baby that Al was so keen on finding in his King Cake. It must have slipped out when he had moved the box.

A small laugh escaped her as the vampire gave a toothy smile, his brows raising in wicked delight as he tossed it in the bin, "There is no baby."

~~~

The car ride was…awkward, but Roxana had to admit she enjoyed how uncomfortable Dracula looked crammed into the backseat of the tiny coupe. His knees were nearly pressed up against his chest as he sat there glaring at her through the mirror.

Al was blasting some Big Freedia through the half-blown speakers and the Bounce Queen's voice was belting out her iconic song called 'Azz Everywhere'. It consisted of very loud bass and the very repetitive lyrics of the title.

The Count was not amused.

Luckily for him, however, the bar was just down the street on Magazine. He only had to suffer through one song before the car was parked and he immediately shuffled out of it, unruffling his suit as he waited for the others to join him.

The place was smaller than he expected, but New Orleans was known for cramming together as many businesses as possible into one building. There were two floors of apartments stacked above and several people already meandering about on the balconies, their happy chatter filling the streets.

Roxana quietly asked Al to take the pastries inside so she could have a private word with the other man. Her friend just waggled his eyebrows at her and relieved her of the beignets. She sighed, running a hand through her hair before walking up to the vampire.

"Now, I know you don't like being told what to do, but will you please just be good tonight?"

Dracula rose a brow, "I am always on my best behavior."

"I'm serious," She stepped up to him, hands on her hips, wearing a very stern expression that just tickled him, "If you fuck with my friends, I'll call the foundation in a heartbeat."

"Is that supposed to frighten me?"

"It should light some sort of warning fire under your ass."

The Count placed a hand on her shoulder, claws just barely squeezing her skin through the fabric. She tensed, eyes darting back and forth between his dark gaze and sharp teeth.

"Roxana, my dear," He drawled, leaning closer with a wicked smile, "I promise not to harm your friends...this evening."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged his hand away, "I suppose that's the best I'm going to get."

The vampire's grin widened as he opened the door and gave her a small bow, motioning her in like a gentleman.

Clearly, nothing more than a veneer.

Roxana snorted and entered the familiar establishment. Might as well get the evening over with.

~~~

The bar was a grungy pit.

The walls were covered in thousands of stickers in various stages of decay and what little wall showed from beneath was caked with the dried paint of endless graffiti tags. Stacks of board games were piled across the shelves lining the room, almost all had a missing component that basically made them unplayable. Old Christmas lights were strung up haphazardly along the ceiling and lit up the room with strange multi-colored hues.

It looked like an absolute shit show of a bar.

Dracula observed his surroundings with disgust, unsure that it even fit the building's safety codes.

"This place should be condemned."

Roxana elbowed his side, "You watch your mouth, this place is sacred."

"Oh my god, Al wasn't kidding, you actually did bring him!" There was a loud squeal and they looked up to see Angeline waving at them from the bar. From the looks of it, she was already down a few margaritas. "Hey there, Mr. Balaur! Fancy seeing you at this joint. Y'all getting into some after work extracurriculars?"

"What does that even mean?"

Angeline threw her arms around Roxana, whispering not-so-quietly in her ear, "It means that you're gonna schmooze him and booze him to woo him, baby!"

She could smell the waft of tequila permeating the younger woman's breath and fought a grimace, settling for awkwardly patting her back instead.

"Okay, you're having a water. Here, take a beignet too, cher." Roxana guided her back to her seat and gave Eric a smile, "Hey bud, how come you're not as sloshed as our little angel here?"

The poor kid looked like someone had poisoned his drink. His face, though already quite pasty, had paled considerably as he stared in open horror at the dark figure still lurking behind her.

"Rox, how come...he's here?" He asked quietly, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Dracula. Trying, and failing, to not make his fear too obvious. "That dude is bad news."

She inwardly applauded him for picking up on the evident danger that was the vampire she brought to the bar. Too bad he was going to have to deal with the chilling feeling of pins and needles along his neck for the entire evening.

"Don't worry about it." Clasping him on the shoulder, she gave the kid her best reassuring smile and then addressed the group, "Guys, this is Dracula, it's a strange name, I know, but let's not tease him too much. Alright? Alright. Now, let's have some shots!"

After a couple of rounds, her nerves had mellowed dramatically now that various ounces of liquid courage ran like fire through her veins. She loved the rush of tequila. The vicious bite as the liquor hit her tongue followed by the soothing numbness was one of her favorite feelings. It never failed to pick up her mood.

The bloodsucking creature be damned, Roxana was going to have a fun night.

They moved the party out back to the courtyard; what the bar lacked in the interior, it made up tenfold in the back. Lights were strung up to illuminate the back patio and there were yard games for days. Anything one could imagine; billiards, pong, table-tennis, giant jenga, darts, cornhole, horseshoes.

The list went on.

There was not a more fun time to be had than copious amounts of liquor paired with the natural allure of friendly, or sometimes not-so-friendly, competition. The inhabitants of this particular crew were no strangers to drunken bar games.

"Alright! Let's break out into teams, shall we?" Al slurred a shout to gain everyone's attention. He waved absently in Roxana's direction, "You and me, bitch, versus them two hooligans!"

Roxana glanced over at Eric who went pale as a sheet at the thought of going anywhere near Dracula, so she immediately intervened, "No, no, no, cher, we can't have that - it wouldn't be fair. How about me and the big guy, versus you two?"

They had already sent Angeline home in an Uber, ensuring she was coherent enough to actually make it there. Roxana had to repeatedly insist to her younger friend that there was no shame in calling it quits when someone was too drunk. It happened quite often to her, and she'd be lying if she said it probably wouldn't happen again. Sometimes the liquor just got the best of a person.

"Are you sure that's fair for them?" Dracula purred into her ear. He had been close to her all evening, not once leaving her side and, to her begrudging enjoyment, he had not even paid the slightest bit of attention towards any of her friends.

Only her.

She stubbornly insisted to herself that she was grateful for the attention because it meant less of a threat to her friends. However, she couldn't ignore the pleasant shiver that ran down her back every time they caught eyes.

"It is as long as you hold off on your batty voodoo." Roxana said, tossing back another shot like it was water.

This made him curious.

While her friends had consumed quite a substantial amount of alcohol, they sure as hell weren't holding a candle to what the small woman beside him was pounding down. And she didn't even seem to be phased. It was encouraging to see someone else have an unquenching thirst like his.

Although he preferred something entirely different, he was still rather impressed.

Roxana snagged two pool sticks, eyeing them for any bends in the wood or scuffs on the cues before tossing one to Eric, "I'll rack it up."

Dracula watched with interest as she bent down to retrieve the balls and sorted them into a wooden triangle. From his angle, he had a delightful view of her cleavage and the vampire did not hesitate in sliding over to sit close to her on the table. Pressing a palm down flat onto the felt, he leaned closer under the guise of observing her movements of 'racking'. Whatever that was.

When she glanced up at him, he felt a peculiar pang in his chest that he didn't understand. She looked so…beautiful at that moment. With the hues of red and orange from the shitty lights hanging above casting her in a hazy glow, he was struck in some sort of spell.

In a flash, her gaze hardened as she realized how close he had edged over to her, and the spell suddenly lifted. He masked his confusion from the whiplash of strange emotions with an easy smile.

"Need something?" She asked, straightening up.

"What is this?"

"Pool?"

He glanced around with furrowed brows, "I see no pool here. That'd be disgusting."

Roxana couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at the idiotic bat. She pointed to the table, "This is pool, you know, billiards? Shit, do you even know how to play?"

"I could easily acquire the skill." Dracula licked his lips, dark eyes scanning the people around them as if eyeing some prey. She pushed him off of the table causing him to chuckle and stand beside her, "Alright! Teach me then, it can't be that difficult. You silly humans and your nonsensical pub games."

"You're just upset that you died before you could enjoy having any sort of drunken fun."

He looked affronted, placing a hand to his chest, "I'll have you know I'm quite good at games! I used to have a ball seeing how many men I could impale with one toss of the spike. Ah, those were the days."

Roxana was grateful that Al and Eric were busy taking turns trying to balance their stick on their chins on the other side of the table. Out of earshot.

"Enough of that now." She muttered to the Count and then grabbed her friends' attention, "Oi, tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, one of you break this."

As they argued, throwing their hands around in a match of rock, paper, and scissors, Roxana set out explaining the game of pool to the out-of-date vampire. By the time she was done with the rudimentary overview, Al gave a shout of victory and lined up the pool cue for his shot. The rack broke evenly, balls soaring in every which direction across the table, and a stripe sank into a pocket.

The game had begun.

Roxana prided herself in being a bit of a pool shark, so she was slightly disappointed when she only got in two solids before scratching. She handed the stick over to Dracula and they watched Eric fumble around before the Count's turn. The valet missed and slurred a slew of expletives, flipping off the table as if it were to blame for his loss of cognitive function. Dracula made his way to the table, copying the position he had seen the others use as he lined up his shot.

In his peripheral, he spotted Roxana sliding up next to him, reaching out her hands to adjust his stance. He was surprised at her willingness to be in such close proximity and he gathered that the copious amounts of tequila she had imbibed had something to do with it.

Gently, she wrapped a hand around his forearm, angling and lifting it slightly while the other hand wove his fingers to the correct positioning of balancing the cue between them.

With a hum of approval, Roxana finally looked up to meet his gaze and noticed how close they were. If she were to just turn her head slightly and lean forward an inch, his lips would be so easy to press against.

She jumped back quickly, creating a safe distance between the two of them once more and motioned for him to shoot. Dracula blinked, a little dazed himself at the strange pull he suddenly felt. He gave an imperceptible shake of his head and focused on the game.

When the stick hit the ball, he realized he might've put in a little more force than necessary because the ball shot off the table and bounced halfway across the courtyard.

"That's a scratch, bitch!" Al screamed with hysterical laughter while Eric ran over to try and capture the errant ball.

After a few turns, Dracula had become noticeably better, and soon enough, the pair of them were winning every game. The humans did not relent in their intake of alcohol and eventually, Al threw his hands in the air in defeat, swaying liberally back and forth. He was so very clearly plastered as his eyes tried to focus in on Roxana. "I think…I'm done. It's bedtime, bitch."

"Yeah, same -" Eric started but was abruptly cut off by his own loud hiccup, "S-s-same here!"

Roxana raised a brow and smirked at the two drunks who were hanging onto each other in an attempt to keep one another upright. It was incredibly amusing.

"Alright, y'all have a good night, then." She drawled, tossing back yet another shot. The sight made Eric turn a little green. He never understood how she could possibly stomach so much liquor and the mere thought drinking more made his gut turn. Al saluted them and then slung one arm around the younger man, whistling a tune as he dragged them out of the bar.

"Didn't he drive?"

Roxana was surprised that Dracula even cared.

"Yeah, he did. But he also lives one block up, which is why we usually come to this spot. I used to live super close, too." She said with a wistful sigh, "I miss the days of only stumbling a few steps to get back home."

She placed the cues back up on their rack along the wall and pushed the rest of the balls into the holes, wiping her hands down on her pants as she came to a stop in front of the vampire.

"And then there were two." Roxana spoke, a small grin lighting her face. "You were actually good tonight. Thank you."

Dracula shrugged, "I made a promise, did I not?"

"Yeah, you did." She patted him on the arm, "Great job, bat boy."

His brow rose but he said nothing to rebuke her comment. If anything, he was endlessly entertained by her constant need to call him names.

No one had ever dared before.

"Well, it's getting late and homeboy is about to shut down for the night…" Roxana shrugged on her jacket and swigged back the last shot of tequila that sat on the table, biting into a lime wedge and then tossing it into the empty cup. It must've been the liquor taking action finally because she couldn't stop the next words from flowing out of her mouth, "Would you wanna…walk me home?"

The Count gazed at her for a moment. Long enough for Roxana to drop her eyes and reach for her purse, fully intending on making a beeline out of the bar and running away from her sudden embarrassment.

He caught her arm before she could turn and snaked it around his own, tilting his head towards the exit, "Shall we?"

~~~

The night was cool and calm underneath the light of the moon.

A breeze flowed gently through the empty streets and wrapped the pair in its comforting embrace. Roxana loved nights like these, when no one was out and about and the usually bustling city lay dormant in its rest.

They walked in amicable silence.

It was pleasant to just simply enjoy the sounds of the night; there weren't many creatures that roamed about in a city like New Orleans, but the tropic region provided plenty of bugs. Although it was a strange tune, the buzzing song that the cicadas sang was calming as they hummed peacefully through the night.

He noticed that her posture was relaxed and although she wasn't outright stumbling, there was a little sway to her walk that entertained him. It was shocking how easily she had grown accustomed to his presence. Or perhaps she was just drunk, but he'd rather assume the former was true.

Roxana wandered off the sidewalk slightly, spotting a blooming Southern Magnolia tree. She did a little dance over, plucked a stem, and returned to the Count's side. He watched as she once again tucked the flower into his breast pocket.

This one was as pale at the moon above, smelling of fresh lemon.

"Do I still reek of evil?"

"Nah," She shrugged, "They just bring out your eyes."

Dracula couldn't help but laugh, the warm sound echoing in the street and bringing a smile to her face. If she didn't know any better, she might've entertained the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She always did have a habit of going for the bad guys in her past, but Roxana drew the line at an actual blood-sucking monster.

As they neared her home, she came to a stop just shy of her front porch and turned to look at the Count. "Well, thanks again for, you know..."

"Not eating your friends?"

"Yeah, that."

Dracula stepped closer and lifted his hand. She expected him to grip her around the neck, a strange and unnerving habit of his, but to her surprise, he gently brought her chin between his thumb and forefinger. The soft movement caught her off guard. He raised his own chin, looking down at her, searching for something that she could not possibly begin to fathom. It caused her a bit of apprehension as a toothy grin slowly crept onto his handsome face.

"My dear, I'm afraid I would find your friends to be rather…flavorless." He murmured lowly, enjoying the instant furrow in her brow, "I am a connoisseur, not a glutton. I prefer not to pick the low hanging fruit. The taste is always…off."

"Unbelievable!" She ripped herself from his grasp, sending the vampire the meanest glare she could muster and spun on her heel to walk towards the door, "You got some fucking nerve calling my friends flavorless, what a douchey thing to say -"

But the words died in her throat and her body froze.

Dracula was amused by her outburst; he always did enjoy pressing human's buttons. They were such sensitive creatures. But the way she cut herself short drew some concern.

He followed her steps, craning his neck to try and figure out what had caused her reaction. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Then he smelled it.

Instantly, his senses were taken over as he felt the pooling in his eyes and the lengthening of his dagger-like teeth making him snarl viciously. His shoulders went rigid as his body unconsciously tensed up, ready to attack. Every single one of his nerve endings was on fire as he fought the urge to consume everything in sight.

There was blood…and quite a bit of it.

The crimson liquid trailed from somewhere within her home to the entrance and it led to a red-soaked note nailed to the middle of the front door. Dark lettering read, "WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE - MEET US TOMORROW NIGHT - ST LOUIS CATHEDRAL - BEWARE THE BAT"

Dracula's growl drew her attention away from the letter and she glanced back with wide-eyes, looking at the vampire in horror. His visage was just as frightening as the sight before them. She took a step back and paused, nearly shrieking when he snapped his jaws at the pool of blood that entered his view.

He took a few deeps breaths, trying to control his natural inclination to feed, and then realized that the scent wasn't right. Something was different about it and he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Licking his lips, Dracula calmed himself down and Roxana watched as his face slowly returned back to normal.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, "I know you said you wouldn't harm me...but -"

"I'm fine." He bit out, making her jump. Noticing her palpable fear, the vampire ran a hand through his hair and changed his tone, "My apologies. I'm a bit famished and this caught me off guard."

"Yeah, you're telling me…" Roxana's eyes crinkled with worry as she gazed back at the scene on her doorstep.

"The blood is fresh."

Her bright eyes shot back to him, "What if they're still here?"

Dracula lifted his brows, "Then I'll be having a nice little snack."

Rolling her eyes, she went to move towards the door but was stopped mid-step by a clawed hand firmly pulling her back.

"Ah, ah, ah, I'll be investigating this, my dear." His lips quirked but the smile did not meet his eye, "I'm the immortal one here, remember?"

The Count carefully pushed open the door and made his way into her home, taking caution of avoiding stepping in the trail of blood. He let his eyes adjust to the darkened interior and listened carefully for any noises of someone inside, but all he could hear was the pounding heartbeat of the woman standing behind him.

Shame, he thought, it would've been nice to have a bite to eat.

He really was hungry.

Ignoring his craving, for now, Dracula reached over to flick on the light and called out to Roxana, "The coast is clear. Those cowards must have run off after slicing one of their hands like an imbecile and - oh, fuck."

His gaze landed on an object lying in the middle of her living room.

"What? What happened?" Roxana called, taking a step through the threshold.

Dracula's put up a hand, "Wait - don't come in!"

But it was too late.

Her eyes found the source of the blood and a gut-wrenching moan escaped her lungs as she felt herself collapse onto her knees, staring at the blank gaze of her mangled cat.

"No, no, no, no, no -" Roxana shook her head, tears pouring from her eyes as she tried to wrap her mind around the brutality that befell her sweet furry friend.

It was a shocking sight.

She felt her heart seize up painfully, squeezing so dangerously inside the cavity of her chest that she thought it might actually burst. Roxana didn't even register the tall man swooping down and picking her up into his arms.

"Breathe, Roxana! You'll be okay, just breathe." He carried her away from the scene of the crime, bringing her outside and placing her down onto the stoop. She was nearly hyperventilating and couldn't even focus on his dark eyes that blocked her vision. He grasped her cheeks, softly stroking his thumbs along her face, urging her to calm down, "Listen to me, deep breaths, alright? Come now, breathe with me."

He began to inhale and exhale, trying to get her to match his movements. She shakily did the same, closing her eyes tightly and clasping onto his hands.

"Good, keep going. Just like that." They continued the breathing exercise, in and out, until her gasps slowly faded and her heaving chest eventually evened out. "You're doing very well."

Roxana finally opened her eyes. If Dracula had a beating heart, it would've surely stopped at the sight of her look of utter despair.

"They killed my cat."

He nodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to her hair and stroking it back behind her ear, "I am sorry for your loss."

After a moment of silence, she spoke up again, her voice raspy, "Are you going to kill them?"

Again, he nodded and she gave a sigh of relief.

"Good. I hope they fucking rot."

"You're not staying here tonight."

Roxana's eyes glistened but she refused to let more tears fall, "Yeah, I should probably head to Al's. He has an extra couch or floorspace…or something. They're probably passed out, but I know where the spare key is."

"No," Dracula said, standing up and offering a hand. "You're staying with me."

"That doesn't seem like a good idea." She eyed it skeptically.

"Roxana, I'm not allowing you out of my sight until I find who did this." The vampire's tone was sharp and she felt the exhaustion from the evening finally catch up to her.

With a heavy sigh, she relented, "Fine. I'm too tired to argue with you right now."

Dracula saw her eyes drooping a little and with a small smirk, he reached down and drew her into his arms again. At her weak attempt to struggle, he tightened his grip and shushed her complaints, "Relax, just go to sleep. I've got you."

She gave up trying and rested her head against his shoulder.

The last thing she remembered before an uneasy rest took her away was the faint scent of citronella wafting up from the magnolia flower sticking out of his pocket.

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