#he gives into violence once again because its the only way to save her from silcos goons

[pulchrasilva]

Nobody fucking talk to me i just finished rewatching arcane and it was DEVASTATING I need to KILL

[eclecticmiasma]

I kept thinking what if Chilchuck or Laios had been kidnapped by the monster! reader, how the reader saw them hurt or mistook them for chicks and saved them from being killed by another monster.. Now the reader monster is taking care of him in his nest/house, as if they were his own chicks (reader is a gentle monster who doesn't want anyone getting hurt or dying), and the reader being a sentient monster where she knows the dungeons are dangerous...

Note: the reader's appearance is similar to that of a human but with some animal characteristics, thus confusing the adventurers, who may think that she is a human cursed by the mad wizard and thus has the monster part... But the reader is a cool and conscious monster

Large brained thoughts, honestly! Perhaps reader could be the ghost of a creature that lost its young and uses shape-shifting to lure dungeoneers and other monsters to her nest as replacements? I would imagine that she would become extremely protective of her targets especially once they have been tricked into becoming one of her offspring. We don't see any examples of monsters being benevolent per se, but there is a benevolence/kindness to reader's selfish desires.

I think reader would appear very different to Laios and Chilchuck, and their reactions would be completely 180 degrees. Some slight anime spoilers ahead! SFW, canon typical violence.

Laios

Reader appears to Laios in a form that's nearly identical to her original. She has thick claws and black, wet eyes. Her teeth are sharp but framed by soft human lips and her ashen hair is silken and braided like a Northern maiden. She might have a long scaly tale and feathers on her abdomen and thighs because, due to Falin's current condition, it's a form that Laios finds subconsciously comforting.

She lures Laios while the others are asleep. A monster that he's never seen before is too intriguing to pass up- the party is safe enough where they are. Just a peak, a chance to learn-

Before he knows it, Laios is somewhere wholly unfamiliar. The thick dungeon bricks lining the walls slowly give way to moss and grass. The air is warm and smells like petrichor.

Despite a small, nagging anxiety, he presses further. The creature smiles as she leads him farther into the jungle atmosphere, a smile so sparkling and human that is makes Laios blush.

Before long, he's walked right into reader's nest. It's a cozy hovel carved into the base of a tree. Laios is delighted to find smaller monsters of all sizes in a daze, lounging around on the thatched flooring. As he steps inside, he feels a veil of calm close around him and vaguely realizes that its why the monsters aren't hostile towards each other.

Laios succumbs, at first. He lets reader take him into her arms, drag her long claws through his hair and sing a tune that numbs his mind into a pleasant mush.

Reader feeds him, gives him her milk (a high he'll never reach again until the day he dies), lays out the comfiest spot for her newest treasure and goes on her way to find the next target.

Genuinely, if Laios wasn't on a quest this would be his life for eternity. His own mother wasn't very loving, so a meld of monsters and mothers is more than a guy could ever ask for.

It could be hours, it could be days, but eventually Laios begins to remember that this isn't where he's meant to be. He sees a monster that reminds him of Falin, and all at once knows he reluctantly has to return to reality.

Once reader realizes Laios is gone, only killing her will end her crusade to get him back. While the others simply see a deranged monster, Laios sees a terrified mother desperate to drag him back to the safety of her home. Laios hesitates before killing her, too torn apart by the tears in her eyes. Marcille has to take the final blow.

Senshi and Laios briefly consider cooking the inhuman parts of reader into a sort of beef stroganoff as tribute, but Chilchuck's screeching reminder that they are not to eat humanoids leaves them to bury her instead.

Chilchuck

Is just off the heels of grumbling about being treated like a child when he spots what looks to be a small figure huddled in the darkness.

He calls out to the others but doesn't hear a response, only the soft whimpers of whoever has managed to get themselves into this state.

Chilchuck is much more on guard than Laios would ever be. He immediately assumes that it could be a trap or an illusion, so he calls to the figure from afar.

She answers, desperation coloring her tone as she sobs, relieved that someone has come across her.

"Th-they're dead, I don't know where they are but they're dead and I..."

As Chilchuck gingerly steps towards her, he realizes that what he sees is another half-foot. A small archer that's bloodied and bruised. Something about her reminds him immediately of his wife.

All logic leaves Chilchuck as he finishes approaching her, asking what's wrong and tearing off a piece of his sleeve to prepare to bandage the deepest of her wounds. When he goes to wrap the material around her forearm he stares in confusion. The wounds are gone.

He doesn't even have time to react before reader cups his small face in her. "You're lonely," She says, a matter of fact. The half-foot can't deny it, "It's time you stop doing these dangerous things. The only end for a half-foot in the dungeon is in the mouth of a monster. Let me take care of you."

Her words are like honey, her touch even moreso. Feeling the touch of a woman isn't a luxury Chilchuck had been afforded in many moons. But even in the fog of reader's touch, Chilchuck feels that something is off. Her hands are too cold, eyes too deep and dark- almost like black pools of liquid.

The sharp tips of her teeth set him off, and he knows he has to get away. She's no different than a mimic, he tells himself. Even if part of him desperately wants exactly what she has to offer.

Chilchuck mimes as if he is going to fall into her allure, cupping his hands over her own and giving her the most smitten look he can muster. All before kneeing her in the face and dashing at speeds only half-foots can muster to get away.

Reader chases him desperately, form filling the room as she wails in sorrow. "Can't you see they're using you? You're going to end up as bait. You're going to die down here, you'll never see your family again!" Chilchuck mentally bats away at each assertion even as they hook into his skin.

The others finally come running, proximity close enough to hear the commotion at last. With a few well-placed blasts and a slice to the throat via Kensuke, reader is felled and left for good. Even in death, she seems to be in mourning.

Chilchuck doesn't sleep well for weeks.

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide darker content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[beware-thecrow]

I fucking hate BNHA The last panel about "granma is here" in fact further proves my point on another post of how empty and nonsensical BNHA became in the last arc because AfO wanting Tomura from the very beginning made impossible for him to be saved anyway, which means all his beef with the heroes became unjustified and his speech about violence and heroes and villains held no importance in the end. Why?

Because you cannot have a character built over the premise that society was so corrupt and selfish that put a little boy in the bad bad villain's reach for 5 arcs, to then say "oh, wait. He was fucked anyway because the bad bad guy was behind everything all along"

A bad bad guy not even all might in his prime could defeat, so it doesn't matter if people would or wouldn't help others. "It's all bad bad guy's fault anyway and he's practically immortal." Perfect, now we know granma didn't stand a chance against AfO, he planned this.

The whole idea of a society that relies on heroes too much instead of everyone doing their part from kindness falls like a house of cards if you have an evil so corrupt that none of said kindness will mean a thing. The moment Horikoshi went from "Tomura was found by AfO" to "Tomura was planned by AfO" the core theme of his series crumbled down. The league as a device lost its meaning, the characters that composed it became unjustified because whatever motivation they had was in fact a manipulation from the greater evil. And this applies to everyone.

What's the point in Toga and Twice calling out the lack of help for people with mental illness and problematic quirks if the message still is "If you do bad things out of despair no one will help you and you'll get killed." And yes, Toga died loved, Toga wanted to be loved, but she didn't wanted to die?? She was literally an abandoned child who found a family and ended up dying giving blood to the same girl she stabbed. And yeah, it's kinda poetic she died giving blood instead of taking it, but what was the point if she doesn't get to know she's loved? Further more, are we really to believe Ochako loved Toga? A girl she literally didn't know. Sorry, but once I got lost in a mall and a police officer helped me find my mom, that doesn't mean the officer loved me. And yeah, Ochako tried her best to be a good hero, but it's not about what the characters do, it's what the story tells you it happens with what they do. The story just told you the ill and abandoned die in the end before anyone helps them. And they die hunted by the police. What's the point of Touya as a whole? oh, wait. I know, it must be very awful for Endeavor to be such a bad person, his child ended up incapacitated. Very hard on Endeavor. Fuck Dabi being turned into a piece of charcoal, IT'S HARD ON HIS DAD.

What's the point in Spinner pointing out discrimination and people following him if in the end we got that he should have stayed in his lane, in his room, friendless because he only went out to be seen by someone who accepted him, just to have that person tortured in front of him before he was killed. And for what? For a teen to tell him "Yo, bro. I punched your bestie to death, make a comic about it. Btw you'll be staying in jail forever. So so sorry for you guys." Proving once again, murder is okay if you are on the right side of the story. No matter how much compassion, Tomura showed Spinner, or how much he suffered through life. Heroes had the right to kill him, and there was nothing Spinner (who legit loved his friend) could do about it because AfO had taken over. Again, another good character turned pointless, with a pointless point of view, with a pointless conclusion because he can tell the story of Tomura Shigaraki all he wants FROM JAIL, but under the public eye Tomura will go down as an insane mass murderer either way since looking at him in any other light would inevitably make a target of Izuku for killing him and that won't happen. You cannot have "the best hero ever" and "he killed this dude that was kinda right" in the same sentence. It doesn't make sense. Not to mention his case against discrimination went nowhere since everyone who followed him became a villain and the only person who actually makes a point about discrimination ends up being Deku on another, totally different chapter that had nothing to do with Spinner. And...he's a hero so he can say whatever he wants, we go back to "questioning bad, unless a hero says it" and "people are really that horrible in BNHA universe".

Tomura's case it's even more fucked because even when he said he didn't want a future, every single wish he had fell flat. His hatred for not being saved as a child proved to be out of anyone's control, his desire to destroy society didn't land because nothing really changed. There are still schools for child soldiers, and people are still not questioning the violence heroes use to keep the status quo, and certainly no one is wondering how is that a couple of heroes were able to kill a couple of villains (because so far Hawks still has a job). His friends ended up dead or locked away, and the child in him that begged to be saved ended up...being not. In the end, we got a suffering festival for Tomura, from his granma being pushed to drop her kid, his dad being tricked, his parents getting killed in front of him, Mon-chan and Hana's memory squeezed dry and young Tenko asking for help while Tomura was assaulted by his creepy guardian for 200 chapters straight just to tell us that Deku at sixteen was a great hero for putting a twenty one-year-old dissociated guy out of his misery like a euthanized dog. And for what? To finish a guy who was infatuated with his dead brother AND THAT COULD HAVE BEEN EXECUTED IN JAIL LIKE...300 CHAPTERS AGO, since the manga already made the point that villains can be executed with little repercussion, and it can be justified if said villain it's a threat. Then...why was AfO alive to begin with? Oh, I guess this is something we can trust to a 16 year old instead of... the government or whatever. And yeah, these are tragic figures, they certainly are, but you can hardly claim that they achieved anything in the end because the first premise of the league, why it was formed and why they joined was

To live as we want/are. And now they are dead, or locked away, or bedridden crispy for something that was planted by someone else from the very beginning. And what they believed didn't change anything in the end because it's not like the public saw them do something meaningful but, again, they are being told what to believe, by whom? BY THE HEROES. Are we really arguing that Iguchi's comic will change society? ARE WE FOR REAL????? Have you ever read the story of Jesus Christ? he died for our sins by Marvel. And on top of that as the last nail in the coffin to prove that NOTHING changed, Hawks really said rebranding + target audience =📈🤙🏼 StOnKS✨ I wish I was joking.

[sansaorgana]

— DAUGHTER OF THE MOON (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader (Celebrimbor's Daughter)

SUMMARY — Lord Celebrimbor's daughter finally learns the truth about her betrothed. She might be the only one who can save her father and Eregion if she agrees to give Sauron what he wants.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Reader's appearance is not described and her mother comes from a group of Elves that I came up with myself for the sake of this fic and its plot – the Moon Elves. This is the last part of this fic! 😊 As I said, it was supposed to be a one shot but it turned out quite long, so I decided to post it in three chapters. 💗 The ending is kinda open... 👀

WARNINGS — Reader's mother is dead ("madness" + suicide), blood magic, violence, domestic abuse (Sauron is not nice to his fiancée), manipulation, gaslighting

WORD COUNT — 6,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON (III)

Corruption. It was the thing that Lady (Y/N) feared the most. Therefore, when she heard about the possibility of The Seven being condemned because of her father’s lie to the High King, she was absolutely terrified. Especially after learning “the truth” from her beloved Annatar about her father’s condition.

He watched with a smirk, overhearing her conversations with Celebrimbor. Her pleas and sobs as she begged him to finish the Rings. But – just as she had promised – not even once she did reveal that she knew about his worrying state. And even though Annatar had mentioned that it was crafting the Rings that had caused Celebrimbor’s mind to go astray, his daughter feared the darkness and corruption so badly that it seemed to escape her mind. The only thing that mattered to her was to convince her father to help Annatar in making the Rings.

She was even using the same tactics as her beloved – something he noticed with a huge amount of satisfaction as he listened to her praising her father’s craft and saying that he would soon become known as the greatest of the Elves in history. How she sweetly and innocently lured him into the trap Annatar had prepared.

And so she succeeded, standing proudly by her betrothed’s side with her arm around his, as they were surrounded by the Elven smiths and watched Celebrimbor give a speech.

“There is agency uncanny in the heart of stone and ore,” he started. “Even when a work is yet within the artist's bosom, it begins to…” He hesitated and made a disappointed face. “...disobey him. We have failed. Every one of us,” he added more harshly now and Annatar could feel (Y/N)’s hands squeezing his arm tighter as she was not suspecting her father to grow so bitter and cold.

“The designs were carried out to the most exquisite detail, my Lord,” Mirdania dared to interrupt him.

“Were they?” Celebrimbor asked her in a challenging tone. “Every last hammer stroke done to perfection?” He began to take steps forward, approaching her and the other smiths. “Or did hubris and sloth come together to dull your attention?!” He raised his voice and a short silence occurred.

The tension was heavy in the forge and Annatar felt (Y/N)’s fingernails digging into his flesh as she kept squeezing his arm. Her father’s anger was not aimed at her but it still pained her to see him like this – like he had never been before.

“We must atone for our mistakes in the only way we can by completing the Rings together,” Celebrimbor said again, a bit softer this time, as he looked upon Annatar’s face. “The Nine must do far more than bring aid to men, they must bring balance to the entire project. They must draw strength from The Three and somehow…,” he hesitated, uncomfortably, “redeem The Seven,” he looked around, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “They must redeem us all. We shall work night and day,” his tone changed once again and grew harsher. “New designs. New alloys. A new process. I will be with you at every turn and any of you who offers so much as a hair’s breadth less than his utmost effort is a… A smith of Eregion no longer,” he threatened, even though he sounded ashamed of his own vicious words despite the gentle smile. “Have I made myself plain?”

“Yes, my lord,” the smiths nodded their heads quietly.

“It starts now,” Celebrimbor nodded nervously and walked away as fast as possible to go up to his study, walking past Annatar and (Y/N) but avoiding their gaze.

(Y/N) left her betrothed’s side and followed her father to his study. Annatar was torn whether he should join them or to coax the smiths. He eventually decided to do the other thing since he already trusted (Y/N) enough to leave her alone with Celebrimbor for a moment, meanwhile the smiths of Eregion kept chatting quietly about their Lord’s behaviour.

“Father?” (Y/N) approached Celebrimbor who was sitting on the chair and trembling, hiding his face in his hands. Her heart was full of pain for him and she swallowed thickly when she placed her hands on his shoulders as he flinched a little. “Father, perhaps I have been pushing you too hard to agree to make The Nine. I, too, want the redemption of The Seven for I want this craft to be the absolute mastery of your abilities and achievements as much as I want for the whole Middle-earth to admire you…” She confessed gently as she crouched down next to him and removed his hands softly from his face. “But father, please, the way you behave… is worrying to say the least,” she whispered.

“The way I behave, my sweet child?” He blinked a few times at her and she tilted her head, confused.

“What are you talking about?” She breathed out and a short silence occurred, in which Annatar’s voice calming down the smiths reached them from afar.

“Are you sure about wanting to marry this man?” Celebrimbor lowered his voice, squeezing his daughter’s wrist when she wanted to move away, visibly outraged by his question.

“How can you ask me that?! The love between Lord Annatar and I is of the purest and most noble kinds…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I have never thought to ever meet a man like him but he is everything I have ever dreamt of and I am the luckiest of all maidens that he wishes to leave his service to the Valar for me.”

Celebrimbor was defeated. He let his daughter's hand go and he watched her tears with the pain in his heart. He hated to make her cry and to worry her but he was concerned about her as well.

However, she was already far too bewitched by Annatar’s charm.

Lady (Y/N) was crafting a beautiful headpiece as she focused on shaping the sapphires. The day was warm and quite calm and she enjoyed her silence and her solitude as yet another masterpiece was coming to life because of the work of her hands.

A light knock upon the doors made her look up with a furrowed brow.

“Come in,” she ordered and watched the smith Mirdania walking inside.

Mirdania’s eyes were exhausted, her dress and face covered in sweat and dirt from the long days of excessive work in the forge. She bowed down in front of Lady (Y/N) and opened her mouth, hesitating before speaking.

“What is it?” (Y/N) asked her as she stopped paying attention and laid her eyes back on the headpiece in front of her.

“My Lady, I am terribly sorry for bothering you but this is about your father, Lord Celebrimbor…” Mirdania started.

“Yes?” (Y/N) still did not lay her eyes on the woman as her eyes squinted when she picked up a thin chisel.

“The way he is behaving… He has never been like this. I do not mean his strive for perfection but the measures he is taking… We do not feel safe around him anymore, my Lady,” Mirdania blushed and looked away because (Y/N) glanced at her at that very moment.

“I… I do not know what to say,” (Y/N) confessed, putting the chisel down. “I do not know how to comfort you… But you ought to endure for he must finish The Nine,” she stood up to approach Mirdania and put her hands around the smith’s arms. “He must.”

Mirdania tried to protest somehow as her mouth opened and her head shook but that was when the doors opened once more – this time without any knocking – and Lord Annatar stood in them.

He walked differently these days; more confidently. The way he stood there was taking up the whole door frame and the way he glanced at the women had a hint of contempt and suspicion in his eyes. His robes were no longer grey and humble but the most exquisite – black and gold. And some of his hair strands were tied in a whimsical bow to avoid getting into his eyes and interrupting his work.

Some were saying that now, when Lord Celebrimbor was so busy with his craft and Annatar was engaged to his daughter, he was carrying himself as the Lord Regent of Eregion in a way. His position changed, of course, as he was now known as Lady (Y/N)’s betrothed and Lord Celebrimbor’s most trusted friend.

“My love, what is it?” Lady (Y/N) asked as she abandoned Mirdania’s side immediately to approach him.

She did not mind his change – in fact, he made her believe that it was her who had encouraged it, convincing him that the new robes would make him seem more respectful amongst the people of Eregion and that he had proved his humility enough.

Annatar gave Mirdania a scolding look before laying his soft eyes upon Lady (Y/N).

“Your father’s people demand an audience but he refuses to see them, too occupied with his craft,” he announced.

“That is so unlike him,” (Y/N) shook her head with concern.

“He wants you and I to carry on with his responsibilities to the city,” Annatar informed her.

“Oh, well, then…” She hesitated. “Well, then I must… I shall do everything to help my father,” she nodded her head, eagerly. “Mirdania,” she turned around to look at the woman and the smith bowed her head down before hurrying out of Lady (Y/N)’s chambers.

(Y/N) and Annatar walked downstairs and approached the people gathered by the doors, surprised to see them instead of their Lord. Annatar clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at his betrothed as she nodded at him, letting him speak because she knew that he was far better with words than she was.

“The greatest of Elven smiths is consumed by his work,” Annatar announced to the people of Eregion. “He asks that Lady (Y/N) and I handle all matters of administration in his stead,” he bowed slightly at her before looking back at them. “Now, what seems to be at issue?”

One of the guards looked at Commander Malendrol with hesitation.

“Show them,” he said.

“Show us what?” Annatar asked and the guards pointed in the direction they wanted him and Lady (Y/N) to go in.

And so they followed the guards and (Y/N) was full of anxiety as she kept glancing up at her betrothed, wondering how he could remain so calm when everything seemed to go so wrong these days.

“This gatehouse is typically athrum with artisans and merchants travelling into the city,” one of the guards explained. “But it all strangely halted yester-eve,” he added. 

“We sent a search party across the river to see if there was an obstruction upon the road,” Commander Malendrol continued. “But only one soldier returned.”

“Where is he?” Annatar asked, feeling (Y/N) trembling fingers intertwining with his. As usual, in times of trouble, she was seeking for him and his comfort, his assurance that it would all be alright and that he would keep her safe.

They stopped in front of a few other guards and when the guards walked away, they revealed a body of a soldier with his shirt torn to reveal his chest on which mysterious letters of the language unknown to Lady (Y/N) were carved. She winced and turned around to look away and Annatar squeezed her hand gently.

“Washed up this morning,” Commander Malendrol said. “He appeared to be carrying a message.”

Annatar took a step forward to take a better look at the body and read the signs as his face got serious. Adar’s army coming to Eregion was a part of his plan but he had been certain his Rings would be forged by then.

He was running out of time.

“Bury him,” he ordered and laid his eyes on Commander Malendrol. “Show this to no one,” he added. He did not want anyone in the city to be alarmed and expecting the worst.

When the guards walked away, Annatar put his arm around (Y/N) to walk her out of there and spare her delicate eyes from such sights. She sniffled her tears back and looked up at his face.

“That was awful…” She shook her head, affected. Annatar furrowed his brows, faking worry and compassion as he brought her hand up to his lips and placed a small kiss upon her knuckles. “Should I tell my father about it? I know he wanted us to carry on with his duties but this seems quite serious and–”

“No,” Annatar interrupted her as her lower lip trembled. “He has asked us to see it and that no one is permitted to disturb him,” he informed her in all seriousness, watching her eyes fill with more and more fresh tears. “Not even the smiths… Not even you.”

“N-not even m-me?” (Y/N)’s voice broke as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Annatar smiled sadly at them as he wiped one with his thumb.

“He’s not himself, my gentle darling. For now, all we can do is leave him in solitude,” he whispered, trying to be the most delicate. Give him time. And pray…” He hesitated before finishing his sentence, unsure what effect it would have on her. “Pray that he finishes this work before it finishes him,” he eventually confessed, faking his own pain and sadness.

“I… I cannot lose my father. Oh, Annatar, please… I have suffered enough already, have I not?” She sobbed and he only stood there, watching her tears, not knowing what to say since he had so much more of the suffering prepared for her. “I lost my mother already… I cannot lose him. If there was a way of sacrificing my own self, my own sanity, just to save him… I would not hesitate,” she clenched her jaw out of determination as she confessed. “I know that he presents himself now as a man out of his mind but my father… My real father… He is the most gentle, the most kind, the most generous man and… And I would do everything to save him,” she finished, straightening her back as a sudden outburst of courage washed all over her.

Annatar looked down at their hands intertwined and caressed the silver ring on her finger with his thumb.

“The way you love is of the purest kind,” he whispered.

“I love you just the same,” she assured him and he cracked a sad smile before leaning in to kiss her forehead and walk away, leaving her crying quietly in the middle of the courtyard.

It was dark already when the siege began. Lady (Y/N) was as scared as everyone else but the very first person that came to her mind was Lord Annatar, naturally. The one who had always been able to make her feel the safest and the one who had always had a solution to all of her problems. He had always known how to comfort her with his sweet words.

So, even in times like this, she was running through the crowd of her father’s people, ignoring their screams and cries. And she did not run to the forge but to the tower where she had seen Annatar going before as she had been calling for him across the courtyard but he could not hear.

She was running up the stairs and then she froze at the sight of him, standing alone on the balcony and raising his hands up as he kept staring in the direction of the Orc army. What was he doing, she wondered? Was he performing some sort of magic spell, a ritual that was supposed to keep them all safe?

“My love?” She asked in a trembling tone. “My love, I am so scared,” she revealed and he turned around.

But the man she saw now – the sight of him made her gasp and take a step back as she nearly fell down the stairs. The man in front of her perhaps truly looked like her beloved Lord Annatar but his eyes were no longer kind or compassionate. There was nothing but pure evil and darkness burning in them as he approached her with a smirk.

“You, my love, are coming with me,” Annatar grabbed her by her arm, mocking the sweet phrase they had been calling each other with.

And as he dragged her behind him, she kept sobbing and trying to get out of his grasp but he was far too strong and no one could hear her cries for help amongst the chaos.

“What are you doing?!” She shouted. “Please, let me go! My love, please, you are scaring me!”

But all of her words and pleas seemed to have no effect upon her betrothed. He remained cold and unbothered as he dragged her towards her tower and all the way upstairs, pulling her body behind as if it was a sack of potatoes; not caring much about the many steps ahead of them and hurting her many times on the way.

He pushed the doors to her workshop open and threw her inside carelessly as he watched with contempt her body hitting the ground. Her gentle eyes looked up with fear at him as more and more sobs escaped her throat.

“Your father’s mind is of no use to me anymore. He has lost his senses,” Annatar announced, viciously. “You will craft me The Nine,” he added with a smirk, taking a step closer to her as she flinched and moved back.

“I do not understand… I…” She kept shaking her head and sniffling her tears back.

“Do you hear that?” Annatar shushed her as he faked concern. Screams and cries reached their eyes. “The people of Eregion are dying, my gentle Lady. And only you can save them – and your father – by giving me The Nine,” his fake concern turned into a smirk.

“Even if I wanted to, I cannot. My craft cannot match his in any way…” (Y/N)’s lips trembled.

“You are underestimating yourself as usual,” Annatar did not want to hear any of it as he stood right above her. “Your craft is more than enough. Have you not seen your works of art? I have. And all the noble ladies of Middle-earth and Númenor who are being complimented about their beauty… They all owe it to you,” he whispered, nearly seductively but the sudden eroticism of his voice was what scared her, too, because her pure and noble betrothed would never act this way.

Annatar crouched down to be on her level and she yelped, trying to move back even further but her back hit her desk, so she was trapped now between her own place of work and his body.

“You have been watching your father work for centuries. I am certain you are able to forge The Nine Rings for men,” he breathed out and leaned in even closer as their noises brushed but she turned her face away, trying to get away from him.

“Please, make it stop…” She pleaded. “I want my beloved back… I want Lord Annatar.”

“Oh, but… my sweet darling, Lord Annatar is me and I am him,” he smirked and the floor trembled this very moment after the city had been hit. (Y/N) cried out some more and he cupped her face as he shushed her gently with the most concerned expression he could manage. “My sweet, you can make it all stop. All of it, I promise.”

“Even if I truly could…” (Y/N) swallowed her tears. “I do not have any more mithril,” her whisper broke as she realised her own defeat.

“That is true, you do not,” Annatar nodded with a kind smile like his old one used to be but his eyes were still cold and cruel. “But you have something far more… precious,” he murmured as one of his hands travelled down to her neck and his fingernail brushed the pulsing point there, feeling her blood flowing underneath her smooth and gentle skin.

Their gazes met this very moment. Her eyes filled with terror at the realisation of what he was asking of her.

“What are you?” She breathed out, nearly inaudible as her whole body tensed. “No emissary of the Valar would ever ask me to do this,” she pointed out in a trembling voice and Annatar’s lips twitched as he kept staring at her the most intensely. “Who are you… truly?”

He moved away from her, very slowly. And as he was standing up to be above her once more, he appeared to get even taller and his presence was becoming more and more overlooming. (Y/N) curled herself up under his shadow as if she was a little mouse realising that she had just found herself in the trap set up by a big cat.

“I can become your doom or I can become your redemption. The choice is yours, but the longer you hesitate, the more people suffer. And Lord Celebrimbor… I am not quite certain if he is to survive the siege,” Annatar told her without even trying to hide his contempt.

“I have trusted you… I have betrayed my own father for you…” (Y/N) whimpered.

“Oh, but betrayal is a part of your bloodline, is it not?” Annatar smirked. “Even now, I can feel that you still… love me,” he added, mocking her feelings.

More tears escaped her eyes. Of course she still loved him. Was it even possible to stop loving someone so quickly?

“I love the lies you have told me. The illusion Lord Annatar has been,” she stuttered and gathered her strength to finally stand up as well although she had done it clumsily, grasping the edge of her desk to keep the balance. “But you… Whoever you are… I do not love you. And you will not lure me into your schemes,” she added, proudly. More screams from Eregion reached their ears but she remained cold as a statue and confused Annatar looked behind him after realising that her eyes were not set on him.

They were set on the portrait of her mother, Lady Dúlinnel.

“You might threaten me as much as you wish, dark spirit. And you might threaten me with my father’s death or mine,” she took a deep breath in, “but we do not fear it for we shall see Valinor after we die – a place where you are no longer welcome. And as much as I love my father, I know that he would rather die than allow me to forge such an abomination,” (Y/N) looked back at him again and Annatar’s fists clenched at her words as the muscles of his face twitched.

She could not be serious.

“You think you cannot be lured and tempted?” He smirked. “What about your great aunt, Lady Yestariel?”

“She… She is nothing but a fairytale,” (Y/N) shook her head. “She is a fairytale being told to young maidens as a warning… As a warning, so they know better and do not get seduced by the darkness. And I have listened to this fairytale many, many times. I shall not follow you and your commands anywhere for you are not the man I love…” (Y/N) sobbed as she said that because it was bringing her lots of pain to know that the love she had been receiving was nothing but a lie.

And even though Annatar smiled with pity at her, he was confused by his own reaction. Because some of his pity was genuine and the sight of her tears was unsettling to him. He did not want her to cry or resist him. He wanted her to follow him out of her own will.

“Let me show you,” he extended his hands but (Y/N) shook her head and tried to move away. “I just want to show you… the truth.”

“Nothing about you is the truth,” she remarked through her tears.

“Just let me,” Annatar did not listen to her at all and he grabbed her wrists as she groaned, trying to get away from his grasp. However, his fists were holding onto her so strongly that she gave up and that was when he showed her.

He showed her visions of his memories. He showed her Lady Yestariel, her great aunt, standing by Morgoth’s side. He showed her himself, watching Yestariel and twelve other Elves being tortured and changed into the first Uruks. He showed her Lady Yestariel’s eyes full of love and devotion whenever she laid them upon Morgoth. And he showed her Lady Yestariel’s fall as he was trying to reach her. He showed her all the memories he had from the First Age with her great aunt and a sister of her grandfather – Lord Commander Nillendur, who had died fighting the very evil his sister had chosen to follow.

(Y/N) gasped and took a step back as if Annatar’s touch was causing her physical pain. He let go of her and watched her confusion with satisfaction. Now she knew. She knew everything.

“You are He,” she whimpered, covering her lips with her fingers. “You are Sauron.”

“I have many names,” Annatar smiled at her maliciously, watching her whole world crumble down.

Everything she had believed and loved… Everything she had been dreaming of by her betrothed’s side… It had been nothing but the cruellest form of mockery.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She asked.

“I learnt from the best. I learnt from a God…” Annatar answered mysteriously. “When he sees the potential… He pushes them to the limits, he breaks them to rebuild,” he quoted his own words that he had said to Lady Yestariel about Morgoth. “You have the potential, my gentle darling.”

“You can kill me,” she breathed out to that. “I shall not take any part in your sorcery.”

“Yes, you will,” Annatar only said as he calmly turned around, approaching the doors. “I shall leave you here and the longer you hear their screams and cries, the more inclined you will be to forge me The Nine. And do not forget about your father either,” he added. “Good luck,” he smirked one more time before leaving her alone in her workshop.

Long hours passed and it was bright already when (Y/N) heard the doors open again. She expected no one else but Sauron himself, asking her about the progress. But it was not him – it was Mirdania.

She wondered how he had let that happen but considering the fact they were in the middle of a siege, it was quite acceptable for him to lose his focus on her for a moment.

“My Lady?” Mirdania asked, unsurely. “Are you hiding here?”

“I… I…” (Y/N) didn’t know what to answer.

She had been trying to get out of there but the doors had been locked and not even any of her tools had managed to open them. She had even considered jumping off of the tower but decided to not follow her mother’s steps and to prove the strength of her will. She simply had no idea how Mirdania managed to open the door – unless that was a part of Sauron’s plan as well…

But no – she refused to get paranoid.

“I am waiting for my father’s orders,” (Y/N) lied quickly.

“That is the thing, my Lady… Lord Celebrimbor is out of his mind, he acts as if the siege is not taking place. Lord Annatar is trying to help us but some of the commanders would rather wait for your orders,” Mirdania explained and (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her betrothed’s name.

She opened her mouth to warn Mirdania about Annatar but then she realised she was on thin ice already. Her parents were both mad in the eyes of these people and she had her incidents as well. Now, in the middle of the attack, she was hiding inside the tower. If she was claiming now, all of the sudden, that the man she had been the most devoted to for the past few months was Sauron himself… Well, that could not possibly end well.

So, she had to straighten her back and simply pretend that everything was under control to calm her people down.

“I see,” she nodded. “Let me speak to Commander Malendrol,” she requested and followed Mirdania outside the tower.

To her surprise, there were no obstacles on the way. When she walked out of the tower and went into the courtyard, Commander Malendrol ran up to her immediately.

“My Lady, we are waiting for your orders,” he bowed his head at her.

“Who is leading the Orc’s attack?” (Y/N) asked, wanting confirmation of her suspicions.

“That man claiming to be the father of them – Adar,” Commander Malendrol answered, a little confused.

“I want to speak to him,” (Y/N) decided as Mirdania and the guard widened their eyes at her.

“My Lady!” Mirdania gasped. “That is too late to negotiate.”

“Has anyone tried?” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“Herald Elrond, my Lady,” Commander Malendrol nodded at her.

“Let me as well. I am the Lady of Eregion since my father is… indisposed,” she insisted. “Send a messenger to Adar and tell him that Lady (Y/N) wishes to negotiate with him,” she told Commander Malendrol and then she hesitated. “Tell him to consider it… for the sake of his old friendship with Lady Yestariel. Adar will know what that is supposed to mean.”

Escorted by her guards that had been stripped of their swords, Lady (Y/N) walked through the muddy battlefield as the siege had stopped for a while and the Orcs kept staring at her with curiosity.

She did not feel safe by any means and the fact that Annatar had allowed her to get out of the tower, so far from the city, was more than worrying, she had to admit.

Still, she wanted to take her chance.

She spotted Adar approaching her from the opposite side and she recognised him immediately from the visions Annatar had shown to her before about her great aunt.

“Lady (Y/N),” Adar bowed his head slightly at the sight of her.

“Lord Father,” she tried to address him with respect and he cracked a smile before pointing at a tent to which he invited her.

She nodded her head at her guards and they allowed her to walk inside without them. Adar followed and they were left alone since no Orc was in there either.

“Thank you for still wanting to negotiate. Forgive my tardiness. My father is indisposed,” (Y/N) looked at Adar and watched him carefully.

“There is nothing to negotiate, Lady (Y/N). However, I could not deny your request after Lady Yestariel’s name was mentioned,” he sat down on one of the chairs but (Y/N) refused to sit down as she kept standing above him.

“What do you want of Eregion?” She asked. “I do not care if I live or die, I have lived for centuries, I have made sure my name will not be forgotten for I have mastered my humble craft. And I know that after I die, the light of Valinor awaits me. My people, however, the citizens of Eregion… Some of them are very young – they are children. They have not yet lived enough and they are far too young to understand. They are scared and in pain. I want it to stop,” she confessed as silent tears escaped her eyes.

“I want Sauron,” Adar answered, unbothered by her tears although his eyes kept following them streaming down her cheeks.

“I know who he is. I shall give him to you,” (Y/N) looked down at her hand where the silver ring still decorated her finger. She fidgeted with it nervously as she cracked a nervous smile. “Come with me, Lord Father,” she raised her eyes to lay them upon him. “I shall lead you inside Eregion and bring you to him. Spare my city and I shall give you Sauron.”

Long silence occurred and Adar kept watching her with his eyes squinted. She didn’t feel in danger around him but she could feel that he was not trusting her. She didn’t understand why, though.

“Why would I believe you? Is it not his ring you are wearing?” He snorted at her hand and she swallowed thickly.

“How do you know? I have been deceived… But I do not love Sauron,” she assured him, desperately.

“How can I be so sure that you are not willing to lead me into his trap? The way I see it, he was the one to send you here,” Adar explained.

“Why would I follow his orders? I hate him!” (Y/N) exclaimed, frustrated. “I want him dead as much as you,” she hissed out but she felt her heart quickening its pace at the realisation that she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

“He was the one to send you here… even if you do not realise that yet. Everything is a part of his scheme,” Adar told her softly and stood up to approach her. “You are far too gone now, my Lady; too entangled in his web,” he held her hands gently, squeezing the finger with Annatar’s silver ring on it. “Your great aunt was a dear friend of mine. We joined Morgoth together and we suffered together. I mourned her death.”

“And now, for the sake of the memory of her, can you not trust me?” (Y/N) tried to search for compassion in his cold eyes and she found it. But not in the way she expected.

“For the sake of the memory of her and because I have known Yestariel and her devotion to Morgoth, I know I cannot trust you a bit – even if I wanted to.”

(Y/N) was full of anger and frustration when she was on her way back to Eregion. The siege was supposed to go back to its full force in a few minutes since Adar had graciously granted her enough time to go back to her people before he would attack once again.

Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were burning with anger caused by her frustration. She truly had been thinking that Adar would help her and join her clever plan. However, Annatar kept destroying everything even when he was physically far away from her.

The moment she entered the city, she bumped into him – Annatar himself, looking as if the siege around him had not affected him at all because his robes and face remained clean. Even the whimsical bow in his blond hair seemed to be untouched. He looked down at her and greeted her with a warm smile.

“My love, I was told you had gone to negotiate with the Orcs? I have been so worried,” he put on a show in front of others.

“Oh, get out of my way,” (Y/N) pushed him away as everyone gasped, staring at her with widened eyes as she kept walking towards her tower.

“My Lord, are you alright?” Mirdania was by Annatar’s side in no time, offering him comfort after such a treatment from his betrothed. In fact, everyone pitied him – he made sure of that by putting on his hurt and confused expression.

“It is nothing,” Annatar assured her with a sad smile. “Lady (Y/N) is worried about the city and her father. Her annoyance is understandable.”

“We are all nervous, my Lord. She should have not acted this way towards you…” Mirdania insisted and Annatar took a deep breath in while trying to compose himself.

Once again he had been proved that the most devoted ones were always the most annoying ones as well.

He had to admit, he quite liked (Y/N)’s anger and the way she had pushed him. From that scared little mouse curling up on the floor beneath him, she quickly gathered her strength and courage and that was the most admirable.

“That is enough, Mirdania,” Annatar gave the smith a harsh, scolding look that took her aback. “We are in the middle of a siege and my relationship with Lady (Y/N) should not be one of your concerns. In fact, it should not be your concern at all. Now, forgive me, I should follow her for she seems to be upset.”

And as he said, he did, gathering his robe and hurrying up the stairs to (Y/N)’s workshop. 

The doors were ajar, so he only gently pushed them to see what she was doing and what he witnessed made him gasp softly.

(Y/N) was sitting on the ground, surrounded by all the tools she needed, the gemstones, metals and the cauldrons melting them. Her hands were shaking out of anger and one of her hands was cut open; bleeding all over the ingredients of the future Nine Rings she was forging. 

Hearing him walk inside, she looked up with fury and anger that sent a shiver down his spine. She had absolutely no idea how beautiful she looked but also how terrifying. Like a dark witch her great aunt had aspired to be.

Like a dark witch Sauron himself craved to have by his side; for her to command his armies of demons and shadows.

“I can play a game with you, too, shadow of Morgoth,” she drawled out through her gritted teeth. “You wish for my blood and its dark magic to seal your greatest creations? Let it be then,” she smirked as she squeezed her hand and allowed more of her blood to leak out. “Watch me curse myself for the usage of this forbidden craft. I care no more about what happens to me because, in the end, the last laugh will be mine, you fool,” her eyes sparkled at the sight of her blood mixing with the melting gold. Then, she looked up at him again. “You are forever bound with me now and for whatever you will use these Nine Rings – or The Seven that are allied to them – I shall be a part of your schemes forever now. My influence and my power is bleeding into these and you better beware while you use them for I swear to you… These Nine Rings will be your demise,” she finished her curse and used a thin spatula to mix the gold with her blood as she already reached out for the gemstones with her free hand.

Annatar had nothing to say at that. He only kept watching her in awe – witnessing her most beautiful craft and her most beautiful, terrific rage.

Oh, he was in love with her, he thought.

Now he was certain of it.

“These Rings are not my greatest creations,” he whispered. “You are.”

MASTERLIST

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - IX

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest, wick art from pinterest, prtty sure its AI, OPs unknown lemme kno

9. and be saved

You are left starstruck and gaping, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, when Constantine finally pulls back from the absolute claiming of your mouth, his dark gaze boring into you like he either wants to fuck you, or strangle you. 

Maybe both, considering. 

“After all this, that’s what you think?” he snarls. 

A low growl reminds you both of the danger not far enough away. “And why wouldn’t she, after the way you’ve treated her, you stupid boy?” snarls Wick, his accent thickening in his anger. “Stop touching her.”

You jab a finger in the dhampir’s direction, putting yourself between them again. “This doesn’t mean you own me, buster, don’t get comfortable.” 

The dhampir grumbles deep in his chest at this, glaring blue daggers at Constantine, but he stops his stalking advance. He seems to have enough self-control to weigh the consequences of breaking his promise not to hurt the man you obviously care about (for whatever reason he cannot understand), over the rewards of the deal you made. If he is patient, he will get what he wants. That should concern you, but at the moment you have one thing on your mind. You dare to turn back to your first beau, far from happy. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap. 

“I told you that I like you!” 

“Are we in third grade?”

“It sure fucking feels like it!” he snarls, then starts coughing uncontrollably; horrible, racking hacks that convulse his whole body. 

You see the flash of blood on his sleeve. He is literally coughing up his lungs, and your heart breaks all over again. You try to help brace him, and he tries to hold you away. Finally fed up with his nonsense, you use your superior strength to best him, supporting him while trying to send energy to him through the bond to soothe him. 

Naturally, you find that goddammed brick wall erected between you again. You are so frustrated this time that you pound a metaphysical fist against it. At last it gives, and you push all that wonderful strength you went out in the first place to collect down the line to John. Life, for lack of a better word, and he closes his eyes as it washes through him, leaning on you heavily. 

It almost feels too good, and his relief naturally mixes with his native suspicion. He realizes he doesn’t actually remember what it feels like, to experience even the vaguest semblance of true health.   

“Shit,” he rasps, leaning against you, his face buried in your hair. 

You know they say that still waters run deep, but you still don’t understand the point of him hiding from you. Maybe there is no good reason, and maybe you’ll never truly understand. Even with your arms full of Constantine, you remain painfully aware of the lurking dhampir watching you, too close for comfort. 

What have you done?

When you draw back to look at John, the only word you can think to describe his expression is agony. In turn, you somehow feel relieved and wretched and angry, all at once. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper desperately. “Why couldn't you just tell me?”

“I did,” he answers, and maybe he thinks that's true, but he'd practically spoken in code and it's not your fault that you didn't understand. 

You should just tell him your side too, you reason. You've wasted so much time, and he's dying, and did you really hold back just because you were afraid he would laugh at you? You open your mouth, intending to get it out no matter what the cost, when Wick interrupts coldly, “This is very touching. But I didn’t come here to watch you two canoodle.” 

“I don’t give a fu—” 

You cut Constantine off before he can enrage the dhampir again. “He came here to help us,” you insist. “Come upstairs.”

“This asshole only knows how to help himself,” grouses the man in your arms, and you know he is glaring at Wick over your head. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Fine. Come talk to the vampire he brought us, then we can kick him out.” 

Wick snorts at that. “He can try.”

“You promised me,” you dare to remind the vampire hunter, even if there is a quaver in your voice. 

“As you promised me,” Wick counters right back, offering a mocking little bow with his hand over his heart and a heat in his eyes that involuntarily curls your toes.

Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into?

Constatine’s grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising, had you still been human. You can hear him grinding his teeth, and you have to stop yourself from laughing or crying with exasperation. This man. Maybe you do have a screw loose. You should kick him in the balls for the way he’d treated you, but all you really want to do is wrap him up in your arms, and cloister yourselves away from the world for a very long time. 

Unfortunately, time is not something you have right now.

♰♰♰

Does the Geneva Convention apply to vampires? 

You're sure what Wick did to the vamp he’d captured is at least immoral, if not downright illegal. And yet, you know this sycophant of don Juan’s was no innocent. You find it hard to feel sorry for him.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get the injured vamp to spill the beans. He’s already scared shitless of Wick, and adding Constantine only makes him talk faster in hope of some mercy. You doubt he’s going to get it, or maybe but only in the form of a quick death. 

He tells you all that don Juan has had a bone to pick with the High Table for years. Squabbles over power, jurisdiction, and of course, money, resenting the steep tithe he’s had to pay as a matter of course. He formulated a plan to overthrow them, by somehow involving the Son of Satan to wipe the slate clean with a new reign of Hell on Earth. With the exception, of course, that Juan continues to rule in L.A.

Constantine keeps shaking his head in disbelief, now seated at the head of the kitchen table. Wick has taken the seat at the opposite end, and you lean with your arms crossed against the sink, lowkey ready to intervene if they go after each other again. Maybe you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you sense the peace between them is tenuous at best no matter what Wick promised you.  

“It’s like going after a roach problem in your house with a nuclear bomb,” gripes Constantine. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

Wick shrugs. “I will kill him. You kill the demons. Problem solved.”

Constantine snorts at that. “Yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Is it not?”

“It never is with these assholes. When I deport them they return to their realm, but they don’t die. They could just keep trying, unless we really figure out what they're up to.”

“How do we do that?”

John lights a cigarette, ignoring you as you glare at him, the big idiot. He blows a cloud of smoke into the air, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling like it holds the answer key. 

“I gotta use the chair.”

“At Midnite’s?” 

You have no idea what John’s talking about, but Wick seems to. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you use it to find where Juan’s hiding? He’s gone to ground like the rat he is. It would save me time.” 

“Maybe. It’s…unpredictable.” 

“I might be able to find him,” you admit reluctantly, staring down at your bare feet. 

Both pairs of dark eyes turn towards you. “How?” they echo each other, almost eerily similar in that moment. 

“The last time you fed me…” you say to John, your cheeks warming with the memory. “Afterwards, I kind of…surfed around the city, while you slept. In my head, I mean. But not…” 

Wick is impressed by this, an eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly. John, however, gives you a hard look. “You just…went frolicking around on the astral plane, huh? Do you know how dangerous that can be?”

You laugh, for once more amused than miffed by John’s irritation with you. It helps, that now you’re starting to suspect it comes from a place of caring, rather than contempt. Not that you can tell through the bond now. He’s re-built his walls between you, twice as high and twice as thick as they were before. You know he has more experience with this psychic stuff than you do, but it seems unfair. 

“Well, I did it, and I found Juan. He felt it too. He hit me with something. It woke you up.”

“Yeah. I remember that.” 

You shrug. “I could probably do it again.”

John ashes his cigarette with a flick into an overflowing dish, staring at the reflection in the green glass. “It took a little more than blood to invoke power like that.” Your ears feel like they’re on fire, and how ridiculous is it, that even undead you still can blush?

You dare to meet his eyes, and find a matching warmth therein. It’s his only tell.

“I can give you blood, malyshka,” offers Wick, breaking the heavy silence in the kitchen. “And whatever else you need.” You hate it, that just the thought makes a spear of warmth shoot straight to your loins. 

Constantine narrows his eyes at the vampire hunter, pointing with the smoldering cigarette. “You can keep your cursed blood to yourself, dhampir.”    

“I am not cursed.” 

“No, but you’re a helluva traitor.” 

“Pot, kettle, wizard boy. You think you’re the only one with a bone to pick with God?” 

“Yeah, but you don’t see me skipping off to work for the other side because of it.” 

“The other side,” Wick scoffs. “Two sides, same coin, Constantine.” 

John snorts in answer. “Not exactly.” 

“Oh? Was it not God who gave you this gift you resent so? Was it not God’s priests who fed my pregnant mother to a hungry vampire to create me, God’s weapon against the darkness? My poor mother died in agony after my birth. The priests called her suffering God’s will. That’s what they said when my Yelena and my little Irinushka died too. I finally told them all to go to Hell.”

“So now you get your revenge on God by working for the Underworld?”

“I was made to kill vampires. So it is what I do.” 

Constantine barks with bitter laughter. “This is what you’re getting with this guy, y/n. He doesn't kill vampires to help people. He does it to scare the other vamps into line, so they don’t defy the High Table, and so the most powerful among them can go on exploiting human kind with ease. Trafficking, drugs, you name it, they’ve got their dirty fingers in it. When you said you would rob a drug cartel? He’s the one they would send after you for it.” 

It’s not like you thought Wick was a good man, but for some reason hearing all this hurts your heart. Shocked, you turn to Wick. “Is this true?” you ask hushedly. 

He actually looks regretful, not meeting your eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I made a bargain, a long time ago. It is the only thing that matters to me now. I must honor it.”

You’re not sure why hearing all this has made you feel sick. You don’t really get stomach upset anymore, but you do not feel well. 

“Milaya…” says Wick pleadingly, willing you to look at him. 

But you just shake your head, staring at the floor. Maybe deep down, there was a part of you that thought maybe, maybe, you wouldn’t have to be so completely alone as the long years went by. But now you know this was a very stupid thought indeed. 

“Ask me,” prompts Wick quietly. “Ask me what the bargain was for.” 

“She doesn’t care,” says Constantine, at the same time you ask: 

“What was it for?” 

Ignoring John, his dark eyes bore into you. “I made a deal with a powerful witch of the High Table, that I would serve until the day I found my Yelena again. I was told that if I waited long enough, someday she would be reborn to me.”

You don’t know why you feel dizzy in that moment, like the floor of the whole world has dropped out from under you. You close your eyes against it, screwing them shut tight as your fingers–claws–dig into the countertop behind you. 

This man has done terrible things–for centuries, it sounds like. But he did them for love. Does that excuse them? No. Does it soften you to him? You hate to admit it, but the truth is…a little. 

You entertain the possibility for a second–you only allow yourself a second–that maybe you are this woman the dhampir thinks you are. A reincarnated soul, searching for her long lost mate, like in the deliciously trashy romances you love to read. Shouldn’t you have some sort of past life memories or dreams? Isn’t that how it always goes in the stories?

You think about how you’ve always felt adrift in this life. Not really interested or committed to anything. How it’s all always seemed kind of silly to you, meaningless even, and the only thing you’ve ever been certain was truly important, was to be kind to others. It’s ironic, maybe, that only after becoming a vampire that you truly gained a sense of purpose in your life, helping those who couldn’t help themselves, and removing evil doers from the population at large. 

You think about how you came to L.A. You practically moved here on a whim, because you were tired and off a bad breakup and you wanted to go somewhere exciting and new. Did fate guide that choice you made for yourself? Was it the unconscious searching for your soul’s true mate? 

If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to New York instead? 

You think about the day you moved into your apartment. Wrestling with your numerous boxes of stuff. Not much, really. Just what you fit into your compact hatchback car, which has since died an inglorious death on the 405. Some jerk had bumped into you on the stairs, nearly making you drop your heavy load of books, only to belatedly steady the box before it spilled, and maybe as an afterthought, you. You remember how you’d looked up, up, up because Jesus he was tall, to find the man now pulling on the addictive smoke that will prove to be his doom. He’d looked down at you with bemused annoyance in those lovely dark eyes. Told you to “Watch it,” and went on his way down the stairs, two at a time on those long legs, clearly in a hurry. 

Rushing off to save the world, or a little precious part of it, you know now. 

You remember how you’d felt like you’d been hit with a frying pan, the first time you saw him. How your heart had seemed to stop then start again, racing doubletime.  

If this was a movie, John Constantine would be your soulmate, the man you were meant to find, the one who fate seemed to be driving you towards. Because since the first time you set eyes on him, you haven’t been able to look away. And if this was a movie…it would be a tragedy, because the man you love is dying, and there is no magic that can truly save him, only delay the inevitable. 

You look between the two men seated at either head of the table. Both formidable, in their own ways, they could have been mistaken for brothers in their appearances. You wish you could deny that you felt a certain something for Wick too. It would be much simpler that way. You don’t really like the idea that things are preordained. You want to believe that you have the power to make choices about life, be they good or bad. But there is something in this dilapidated kitchen, the warm night air whispering through the broken windows, that feels unmistakably like fate. 

“I hope you find her someday,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it, holding your hands wide in a gesture of peace. “But I don’t really think that I’m the answer you’re looking for.” 

The too-long sleeve of your shirt–John’s shirt–flops as you gesture, and you roll up the sleeve again, feeling more than a little ridiculous despite the looks both men have been paying you. As you crease the fabric up your forearm Wick zeroes in on something peeking out of your sleeve. 

“What is that?” he demands, with way more force than the situation demands. 

You look at him quizzically. “A tattoo?” 

“Let me see.” 

Constantine frowns as he watches this exchange. You feel a little uneasy too, as you pull back the sleeve to reveal the black and white flowers emblazoned on your underarm. “It’s just…something I thought was pretty on the flash wall, when I turned 18.” It had called to you, for whatever reason, on that rebellious expedition with a friend who had also just crossed the threshold into adulthood. Luckily, you still liked it. Lord knows dumber late night decisions had been made in that tattoo parlor in your little town. 

Wick, however, sits back in the chair, laughing to himself like you have told him an inside joke. “Margaritka. What do you call this flower in English?”

“Daisies?” 

Then you remember what he’d said, about the little white flower his late wife had loved to pick near their cabin. 

Oh fuck.

[pigeonpeach]

Yandere Genshin

Prompt: youve caught their eye but… you’re already taken… that won’t be a problem…

Cw: yandere duh, mentions of murder and violence, manipulation, kidnapping, etc. fem reader

Characters: Jean, Diluc,Yelan, Neuvillete

Jean finds herself more and more infuriated with your commitment everyday. A simple hunter from Springvale is the one that catches your eye? How absurd! She knew she should’ve been more forward with her tatics. Oh this frustration and heartbreak has been tormenting her, impacting her work ethic as she tries to give you space. But its hard because you work for her. A cutesy little maid. You belong to her.. you’re everything she could want in a partner. So delicate, so plump, you’re the perfect bride. There’s no way she’s letting a man who can’t read s kid’s book without struggle surpass her!

So… she staged a little accident lets say.. she happened to cut the patrols in the area, making them closer to the city itself. That way there still was protection for the city… just not for the hunters. For awhile they’d been complaining sbout how the patrols spooked the boar. Even though those patrols were meant to cut down and discourage hilichurl camps. From a political perspective she just gave the hunters what they wanted. To up the anti more she had Kaeya tell him about a legendary boar deep into the wilderness. How the boars get bigger in hilichurl camps because they’ve started to fence them off and fatten them up, if he goes at night when they’re asleep, he could surely nail himself a big boar and pass it as a authentic catch…

The short of it was this. Your almost boyfriend snuck into one of the biggest hilichurl camps without the knights patroling nearby. And Kaeya knowing Jean’s work was negatively impacted by him.. may or may not have done something to alert the hilichurls to the the intruder. Quickly he was overwhelmed and beaten. With no knight in sight he was all alone. His struggle only made the hilichurls more violent. They threw him out, beaten to a pulp. When he saw Kaeya he was relieved thinking he was saved. But Kaeya had orders to finish the job of need be.

His death? A accident. Later hunters found him rotting near the camp, no foul play found. No one knew of his idea or who gave it to him, or who gave that person the idea. In your devastation you ended up right in her arms weeping.

“I am so sorry for your loss. I’ll make sure patrols return to normal and those camps are wiped out soon enough. I won’t let you experience such hardship ever again.” Crying to your boss felt so unprofessional but Jean was just so comforting to you. You had been putting on a brave face until now. You stood as she held you. “Lisa bought me this tea recently. It helps to steady my mind when I’m stressed, would you like me to give you some. I know it won’t remove your pain but it should help you somewhat. Unfortunately I can’t give you time off as two others are currently sick. But once they’re back I’ll give you some vacation okay?” She wiped your tears as you nodded.

“Th-that’s reasonable.. th-thank you.. oh god i must be such a burden. You’re already so stressed i didn’t mean to make it worse for you-“

“That’s not the case at all. I care about you. I want you to be safe and happy as every citizen in Mondstadt should be.” She kissed your forehead as she handed you the cup she prepared. “Here drink some tea. It was originally for me but I figure you need it more. I haven’t dranken from it.”

“Y-you’re sure that’s okay? I don’t mind waiting for another cup.” You asked. Oh how innocent you looked. Jean hated how she had to come to this, asking Lisa for a love spell to be put into the tea. But she couldn’t risk doing this to every suitor who got close to success. She needed to make sure you chose her otherwise she might go further next time.

“Its fine.” She said. You drank it with no further complaints.

Diluc was certain this was some sick prank. You, his beloved little maid, in love with nothing more than a simple merchant? Its not uncommon for the route from dawn winery to be used. But a certain merchant he purchased seeds from seemed to be getting far too close to you. Sure you two weren’t dating, he hadn’t even made the first step. But now he was absolutely was going to take drastic measures.

The first step: Distract you. You found yourself being assigned to chores more indoors an less outdoors. Diluc could sense how you would look out beyond hoping to see him again and he didn’t want that to continue. The second step was to lure said merchant back on a day you weren’t working. His arrival was horrible as the maids had all gone home leaving Diluc and Adelinde to recieve him, on a new moon, there was no moon to illuminate his path home so Diluc offered him to stay the night. He thought of this gratefully, originally the death Diluc planned was a simple killed in his sleep. But when he asked about you… oh it activated something in him. He even brought you a gift… how thoughtful… Diluc struggled to maintain his composure.

The merchant never did make it past the night. Despite his struggles. His body found beneath the bridge near Stone Gate. A investigation launched but ultimately blamed on bandits. With it his gift was smashed. You were devastated yes but your employer seemed to suddenly be more attentive than usual. He offered you meals and tea. Often requesting just to talk to you.

“Its getting late. I really should be going.” You set the tea cup back. “This was nice though. I wouldn’t mind doing this again but… oh.. is it raining?” You look out to see water coating the windows as what sounding like rain came from outside.

“Oh my it appears to be. At this hour you would be most vulnerable if you left now. You have no pets correct?”

“No.. oh dear…” you silently began to worry.

“You could always.. stay over. There is many a guest room and there’s spare pajamas for you. I’m certain it’ll be better than getting sick. Besides there’s bandits on the roads at these hours. You remember what happened to that merchant.” His voice luring you to s false sense of safety.

“Yes… I’ve been quite nervous going home now to be honest. Do you know if they ever found who did it?”

“Still nothing. Guards are posted more though. But it wpuld be easier. You do have a early shift here anyways in the morning so you wouldn’t need to go home right away. If that sounds alright.” He says, you jolted slightly as his hand gently grazed yours as you held your jacket. At that moment thunder clapped, startling you.

“I suppose that makes sene. I’ll take you up on that offer then..” you smiled shyly.

“I’ll lead you to your room then.”

He wasn’t going to let you leave.

(A/n: this is a alternative route to my other work Yelan vs Pantalone, dont consider this cannon to that piece but as its own spinoff)

Everyone has secrets. And Yelan’s is the fact that she stole a bride straight from Pantalone. It was mostly just to spite him, and also because she’s a sucker for a pretty face and couldn’t stand letting that happen. But oh they’re far more irresistible than she could’ve imagined. Now that they’re safely hidden in the jade chamber, working as a intern. She’s been visiting them when she comes to visit Ninguang, lucky her that Ninguang would allow her little damsel to stay in the jade chamber. But while her back was turned to her former life, she set her eyes on the people once known as parents to them. Her little Damsel cannot return to her former identity ever. And thus its better for her to believe that Pantalone went back on his word and killed them.

And that’s exactly what ended up happening. The Fatui’s search was halted and stopped because the Millieth wasn’t going to let the Fatui kill civilians just because they lost a bride. Even though they insisted they didn’t all signs pointed to that. She then forged documents to show to her beloved little damsel that this was the plan from the beginning, that Pantalone would have killed her parents upon acquiring her. Like the others so far, she used this opportunity to soothe them and bring them closer. At least this way they are alive and safe rather than in the hands of their families killer. Only… they are infact in the arms of their families killer. All seemed well until some stupid guard started poking around. He seemed more interested in courting them, believing they myst secretly be from s powerful family outside of Liyue and hiding. It was a rumor she purposely started to cover for their true identity. But now it backfired as this man saw a opportunity to climb up the social ladder. She isn’t quite sure what his exact plan was but her guess was he intended to make her fall for him and then marry him when she returned to her life, this guaranteeing a life of luxury. Unfortunately for him that won’t be the case. But Yelan can’t go killing her own. So she decided to simply use her influence to have him demoted to ground work instead. Convincing Ningguang that if allowed to stay he’ll uncover their scheme. The reason given to him was that apparently he was too loud or social than was acceptable in such environments. Afterwards he died to a hilichurl raid. Whoops.

“You.. you got my stuff?” You were surprised when she came to you with a crate.

“Yes, since legally you’re dead, your parents stuff was sold at auction at request of your family members. I grabbed what I remembered you valued myself.” She said with s smile as you beamed at the sight of your old things.

“It won’t raise suspicions will it?” Yu asked.

“I won’t let it. Don’t worry your pretty little head about the details.” She said patting you.

“I-i don’t know what I could do to repay you. You’ve done so much for me i-i truly have never had someone like you in my life.” You looked at her expecting a sort of humble brush off or something to actually be named.

“A date would be nice. Once everything cools down of course.” Her voice was like a purr, making you flustered.

“O-oh sure.. as long as it won’t cause you any trouble.”

“Perfect.” She said. You didn’t see it but she was considering drugging your tea that sat on the table behind her. A love potion, how typical but how effective. But seeing your blush she could tell you had infact fallen for her already. Which made the potion more of a backup if you ever lost feelings.

Neuvillete is anything but dishonest. But… seeing you cling to the arm of a guard, how happy you two looked.. it left him green with envy and red with wrath. To control himself he decided to simply change the guards routine to be out of your way. But you just went to meet them after work. His favorite little employee falling for the guard rather than him.. he felt deeply insulted.

Time for more drastic measures. He asks a favor from the clueless and happy Sedene (a simple melusine) to sneak into his house. To which she happens to find something. Just as planned he spends his time arranging scenarios to increase suspicion causing the other guards perform a check up right as he is planted with primordial sea water. He is quickly taken away to be questioned. Meanwhile you are distraught. You never thought him capable of such feats. But alas he was hardly the man you thought he was.

“I-I’m so sorry.. i truly didn’t know anything… i- Oh god ll this time..” you were hyperventilating as you were brought into questioning. “I-i.. oh god.. am i in danger? I could’ve ended up just like those missing girls..” Neuvillette’s hands reached out to your space as if to tell you to quiet down.

“I understand this situation is difficult. If necessary I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself. There isn’t any reason I have to suspect you but I still have to take precautions. You agreed to the random house search and no trace of seawater was found. I’m simply asking if he told you of anything suspicious or gave you any implications of his true nature.” He lowered his voice in a more gentle manner than he would in court. You sniffled as you wiped your tears.

“He.. he did keep inviting me to his place. I never went though. I didn’t think we were far along to do such things.. you know like… intimacy..” you nervously muttered. He still heard you, he was pleased to know you two didn’t get too serious.

“Were you two officially a couple?”

“No.. but we were close… i was going to ask him but then this all happened and… you know the story from there.”

“Hmm.. I see. It appears you infact were a target. Is there any reason you can think of?” He says. The sight of you so heartbroken and shaking is strangely attractive to him. So timid, so easily manipulated.

“No.. no not at all.. i don’t understand why?” You seemed more and more frightened. “S-should i not leave the house for a bit. This sounds very scary.. i don’t know if I can continue my routine as normal like this!” You whimpered as your hands seemed to get closer to your body. As if you retreating into she’ll to hide in.

“Fear not, I’ll have the secret patrol watch over. And each guard will undergo inspections from here onward. But i will be seeing you more. I want at least weekly updates to know of any strange activities or unexpected changes. Understand?” He said. You nodded. “With my life, I promise you, you will be safe. And I will let no harm come to you.. ever.”

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The fighting in Gaza continues, and the daily lists of soldiers killed are back. We knew they would be. Listening to their families, mourning their precious loved ones, lost forever, is a pain that's only transcended by the pain of listening to the families of those slaughtered on Oct 7. Every once in a while, I think of my darling friend and colleague, Berthe Badihi. She's a Holocaust survivor, and she gives her testimony to our visitors from time to time. Her grandson, Gil, was killed as a soldier in 2002. That's always the part of her testimony that's hardest to sit through, when she talks about how the pain wasn't over even after the Holocaust was, and she kept losing family. But then Berthe speaks about remembering the difference between how Jews died during the Holocaust, with no human dignity, and how her grandson did, and that this is a source of comfort. That he died a free man, with his dignity intact, protecting his family, his people and his country. On Oct 7, Jews were once again slaughtered in ways meant to rob us of our dignity. And that's why we're gonna keep fighting until Hamas is eliminated, no matter how much the death of our soldiers pains us.

The rocket fire into Israel continues, several people were injured today as well, and a school was hit, though thankfully it was empty at the time, so no one was hurt.

Today we salute Gal Gadot. It's been clear that for simply being an Israeli, who's willing to speak for her people, and despite expressing her wishes for the well being of people on both sides of the conflict, there's been (for years!) a campaign meant to demonize her. It's precisely because she's such a big star, that she has so much to lose. Yet, she spoke out loudly against the world's silence when it comes to the atrocities of Oct 7.

Israelis are aware of the rise in antisemitism on college campuses abroad, especially in the US, and we're following as more and more hateful and even violent incidents take place there, and as the congress will be hearing the heads of universities tomorrow. The truth remains that for years, these universities have been taking Qatari money, the government that has taken Hamas under its wing. IDK that there are any donations that these universities stand to lose, which can compete with Qatar's money, but losing their reputation, being called out on the way they've become hotbeds of antisemitism, of hatred, bigotry and violence, might force them to make a change. One can hope, right?

Speaking of money and terrorism, a new study suggests that Hamas made money off of the Oct 7 massacre (or people affiliated with it), by basically trying to bet on an Israeli economic collapse following the massive terror attack Hamas planned. I hope this crime, of making money out of advance knowledge about the imminent slaughter of innocent civilians, can be somehow prosecuted by law.

Speaking of prosecuted by law, Israel is holding a discussion today on how to put the Hamas terrorists who participated in the massacre, and were caught alive. It's not likely they'll go through a normal criminal court. Most people here assume we'll see something mroe akin to the special court which put Adolf Eichmann on trial in 1961.

This is 63 years old Clara Marman.

She was in Hamas captivity for 7.5 weeks. She's been freed during the hostage deal. She has not given any interviews, but I got to hear her daughter, who confirmed something that many speculated on. The daughter, Ma'ayan said explicitly, that the reason why her mother doesn't want to answer questions about how well she was treated by Hamas, is because she's still scared for her brother and partner, who are still held hostage in Gaza.

This is 39 years old Asaf Hamami, with his wife and their 3 kids.

Asaf was a colonel. On Oct 7, he ran straight into battle, and together with his soldiers, they saved kibbutz Nirim from a massacre and butchery, the likes of which we saw at the other kibbutzim. Asaf was considered missing, until the other day, the IDF confirmed that he was killed during that battle with Hamas, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. The IDF was able to retrieve... enough of Asaf's body to allow for his funeral to be held, but the family understandably wants what Hamas is holding to be saved, and brought back to Israel. I'm going to emphasize again that he was a colonel. In Israel, some of the highest ranking officers still fight themselves. They don't send others to kill and die for them, they put their lives on the line to protect the civilian population. All of it. Jews, Christians, Muslims, Druze, Bedouins, everyone. While Hamas hides in their terror tunnels, leaving the civilians to be their human shields.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[acerathia]

teeth against skin || Fushiguro Toji

Summary:

Something is breathing down your neck, and it won't leave you.

Wordcount: 2.0k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Fushiguro Toji / Reader

Tags/CW:

inspired by 'The Little Red Riding Hood', predator/prey, anxiety, paranoia, elements of a/b/o, cannibalism, as a metaphor to sexual intimacy, dubcon/noncon, violence (a barely described bite lol), descriptions of blood,

Note:

I came up with this before going to sleep and i couldn't rest until i wrote it, lol

The basket bumps against your hip with every step, its handle digging groves into the crook of your arm. Leaves of trees give you enough shade to be spared from the sear of the sun. But there’s nothing to protect you against the heat spreading through your insides. All you could do is distract yourself, make yourself walk through the forest over the overgrown paths. 

You’ve walked this way countless times, almost like the path only exists for you only. The walk helps you cool off, but also, your obligations make you walk down these paths, delivering the bounty filling the basket to the same little cottage, to the same grandmother, one you’ve started to be acquainted with, enjoying her little stories and the tea she usually serves you. 

As you meander between the trees, you wonder if some tea might be the right thing to help against the surging heat, as it does help against the summer heat, even if the two aren’t quite comparable. But a try would be worth it. You would be getting the tea either way. 

The forest is cool, soothing your flushed skin to a small degree. But it’s not cool enough to warrant the way your skin on your neck prickles, slowly spreading over your shoulders, and you slightly hunch them. You can’t help yourself but to slow your steps and to glance back. But there is nothing lurking behind you, just the usual shrubbery, shaking with the wind, with the life hidden underneath it. 

So, you turn around, and the realization grabs you by the neck, your ears filled with cotton. But not because of your random bout of paranoia, but rather because there is no noise anymore. Not movements in the bushes, in the grass, no chirrups above you, no rustling of the chase of animals. Nothing but your own breath echoing in your skull, resounding over your skin, too loud. 

You keep your gaze to the path in front of you, and you take a slow breath, trying to collect yourself as you slowly begin to speed up your steps. Still walking, but with more force, less meandering and wandering. But no matter how far you try to get away from that particular spot, the chilliness, the silence continues to follow you, to nip at your heels. 

That is, until there’s something breathing, but unexpectedly, it doesn’t come from behind you, but rather from directly in front of you. With a grunt, you’re barely able to stop mere centimeters in front of whoever is filling the path, saving yourself from running into him. 

A swallow, and you raise your gaze, only to see a shadow looming over you. His stature is much bigger than you, practically blocking the already too small path, leaving you no space to bypass him. Your eyes travel further up, not being able to ignore the definition of his tense muscles, feeling the once forgotten heat accumulate once again. 

Quickly, you take a step back, but it’s too late, his scent is already in your nose, running down your throat, coating your tongue, making you swallow in an attempt to calm down your breath. But you know, that no matter how much you try to act collected, you’re aware that he must have already inhaled your scent, too. Making him all-too aware about the ruminating heat, making you squirm and pant in silence. 

You clench your teeth, trying to meet his eyes behind the small curtain of his dark hair, only to discover a much darker gaze already focused on you. You lick your lips, suddenly feeling parched, as you try to come up with something to say. 

But before you’re able to collect the right words in the right order, his hand thrusts forward. A shiny red apple sitting between his fingers, one so similar to the ones in your basket. 

“This little thing seems to have slipped out of your grasp,” he simply says, his voice low, scratchy, like the gravel and tumbling rocks, like the shivers slipping down the base of your back. 

You swallow, before uttering a small ‘thank you’, snatching the apple from this palm, trying to ignore the way your fingers graze his skin, jolts of heat driving through your skin. 

After this small exchange, you expect him to step away immediately, but for a moment, he just keeps standing in your way, his eyes traveling over your face, your throat, bobbing with another swallow, and while you watch him analyze you, every detail of your body, the one trashing against your skin, increasing with each breath filled with his scent, you notice how a grin begins to tug at his mouth. 

The breath inside your lungs feels suffocating under his eyes, and you feel your legs tense, ready to bolt into the other direction, the one you came from, if only to get farther away from him, until his scent, like smoke and rain, gets cleared off your skin. 

But it doesn’t come that far, as he takes a step to the side, his heels brushing against the leaves of the bushes. There’s still barely any space left on the small path, but because of the grin on his face, you don’t feel like turning back, rather like you want to prove something to him, what exactly, you aren’t quite sure. 

Holding your breath, you step closer to him, trying to slide between him and the edge of the forest around you. Your own heels meet the end of the path, but it doesn’t seem to have been enough. As your face brushes against his chest, you silently wonder if it was on purpose, if it would have never been enough, if he had been aware of this possibility, even willfully fabricated it. 

But it shouldn’t matter, as the moment you step away from this proximity, your veins filled with fire and its smoke, you immediately turn around and walk in a brisk pace away, continuing your way as if nothing had happened. 

After some good distance, you couldn’t help yourself but to glance back, to see if he’s still there, if he has moved on on his own. And you’re glad to see the stretch behind you void of anyone else, even if your blood is still running hot, trying to convince you to run back to him, to ask him… something you can’t even think about without the risk of panting with the rush getting to your head. 

Swirling back to your own way, you continue. Trying to cool off after that meeting, trying to get his smell out of your system as soon as possible, the smell promising you so much, yet with a certain edge. Rather, you put your focus on putting one foot after the other, distracting yourself by humming a random, senseless tune. 

You almost forget the lack of naturalness the forest around you has taken, draped around you. Until you feel something akin to a puff of air against the skin of your neck, something much more similar to the warm breath of a living being than the breeze of the wind. 

With your own breath stuck in your throat, you forcefully turn around, taking a couple of steps away. Yet, everything behind you is empty, empty of any form of life. Even the rustling of the leaves has halted with the lack of wind. 

Your insides quiver with the breath now finally lodging itself free of your clasp. And while you take your time to enjoy the air, to calm down until the tips of your fingers cease to tremble. That’s a way to cool yourself down, that’s for sure. 

Licking your lips with one last look, you turn back once again. This time with some hurry in your soles, your anxiety setting the pace. With each huff prickling against your neck, your feet get a little faster. Until you’re running along the small path, trying to get as fast as possible to your destination, one suddenly too far away. 

Your eyes are already laid onto the exit of the forest, a simple pinprick in the distance, so you barely notice what is directly in front of you, until it’s too late. Your ankle twists, the pain shooting up your leg, spreading over your torso as it meets the ground with the force of your speed. Stones dig into your arms and your bones, leaving imprints behind. 

With a huffed groan, you try to stem yourself up, to at least sit up in some way instead of laying there, all vulnerable. But your arms shake, your muscles protesting, and all you are able to do is turn yourself around, putting your back to the ground instead. 

This position isn’t much better, your body still open to anything, and the fear is still coursing through you, making you jittery and ready to continue bolting the rest of the way. So, you try again. 

But before you could even get your hands into a proper position to get yourself up, something pushes you against the ground, grabbing your wrists, trapping you underneath this shadow of a being. You immediately try to kick out, to trash around. But nothing seems to affect whatever is keeping you bound. 

The run has left you worn out, your defenses slowly coming to halt, as your body begins refusing cooperation due to the pain and the exhaustion. All there is left to do is look up, look into the face of whatever has restrained you. 

It was him. The one who has blocked your way off earlier. Looming over you, his scent penetrates everything, and you can’t help but gasp. A gasp mixed with different emotions, all too indiscernible for you to truly describe. But your body could very well do so. Your fingertips trembling, yet your legs relax, waiting, expecting. Your insides churn, soft, and then lash out in sheer violence. And you wonder how that might look to him. 

His grin tells you everything you need to know. His teeth sharp, glistening, like a predator, like a wolf seeing his prey. He takes his time simply looking at you, taking you in, almost like he knows what’s going on inside you. 

And then, while watching your chest rise and fall, he takes both of your wrists into one hand, and one tug of yours tells you he still has a strong grip around you, so you don’t continue resisting any longer. Watching him study you made you still, made you consider your options. And maybe, this is for the best, maybe this is what you truly want, why else would you allow him to do this to you. Maybe you’ll be free from this surging heat inside of you, at least for a while. 

The clacking of teeth echoes loudly in the too silent forest as he lowers his head closer to you, his mouth meeting your skin. But instead of something soft and vulnerable, there’s a sting, a sharp pain tugging at the edges of your skin. His teeth penetrating your flesh, penetrating you. 

And as you feel the blood collect over the clavicle, your neck, you can’t help but moan, pain and pleasure mixing, leaving nothing left but the teeth inside of you, pulling at you, burying inside of you. You don’t know if you want to move away, to run away or if you want to get closer, even closer, to feel more and more. 

It doesn’t stop with this simple bite, his teeth form a trail, deeper and deeper into you, and you feel the heat converging on some point inside of you, building up more and more. 

There’s nothing you could do while your red cape soaks in your own redness, all you could do is follow your body, whatever it wanted from you. Because even if you wanted to bite back, to show any kind of resistance, there’s something about the way he feels on top of you, caging you in, paralyzing you, keeping you satisfied. 

Your vision blurs, as his teeth bite and take, bite and take, never satiated. And the last thing you feel is the heat exploding inside of you, leaving you wilted, empty and cold before exhaustion and loss, relief lead you to a darkness far away. 

[ashcal99]

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale V

Chapter Five

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn, blink and you'll miss it mention of sex, mention of opioids

Words: 8.1k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. This one is super long, hope you enjoy x

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

——————

January 31st, 2005

Camila sat there, frozen in shock, silent for what seemed like a century to Jasper. He found himself once again wishing that he had Edward’s power. To his delight, she didn’t look horrified, just shocked. But he wouldn’t push it this time, wouldn’t push her to speak before she was ready, because her whole future hung on this one moment. His whole future with her. 

Finally, she spoke. “W-who makes the decision to change that future?” She asked, voice croaking on its way out. It was the only thing she could think to ask. Every other thought had become muddled in her mind.

Jasper blinked, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “You.” He said simply, pausing before he continued. It was only fair to give her the full warning of what this could mean. “It wouldn’t be the easy solution though. It’s excruciatingly painful, changing. You would loose everything you have now. Your parents, your friends, everyone would need to think that you had died.” He explained gravely, hanging his head in shame. Suddenly, he felt wrong having this conversation. Ashamed that he was even suggesting making her give up everything. It felt selfish, because, in truth, it was.

Surprising even herself, his explanation didn’t hurt. She had spent so long preparing herself to have to say goodbye, that maybe it would be worth it to start new. Either way, she would lose them and they would lose her. What scared her is what this would mean for her and the Cullens. She knew that Alice expected a friendship to form between them. More importantly, she knew that forever with Jasper didn’t seem bad in the slightest, maybe even nice. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to act on her feelings for him after all. Maybe breaking that promise she had made to herself wouldn’t be so bad after all.

That thought stopped her in her tracks though. What if Jasper didn’t feel that same pull towards her that she felt towards him? The last thing that she wanted to do was be a burden on him. A burden that lasted for an eternity no less. “I’ll have to think on that.” She decided, gulping as the thought of making that enteral decision settled in the pit of her stomach. 

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Jasper said. He had expected as much. He couldn’t expect her to make that decision in that moment. She had only just found out that Vampires existed and now there he was, asking her what she wanted to do with eternity. As much as the suspense was killing him, he knew that he would be willing to wait as long as it would take for her to make that choice. The prize would be well worth the wait.

Camila shook her head, trying to push the overwhelming information from her mind if even for a moment. So much had been said in the last hour that she was beginning to have a migraine, the dull pain throbbing more and more by the second. “I’m going to go grab some water.” She croaked out, her throat suddenly feeling as dry as a desert. She reluctantly let her grip on his hand loosen as she pushed herself to the edge of the mattress. Willing her sore muscles to pull her to a stand, she took a few steps towards the door into the living room. 

The room blurred for a moment, her mind going fuzzy with dizziness suddenly. Stars shot around her vision as her knees began to buckle. Before she had time to process what was happening, before she had time to try and catch herself from falling, ice cold hands were on her. One on her waist, keeping her upright. The other gently cupping the base of her head and the back of her neck, long fingers sprawled across the space, keeping her head steady. 

“Woah.” She said blinking rapidly. She was almost certain that it wasn’t just the dizziness that had made him a blur of speed. “How did you get over here so quickly?” She asked, confusion clear on her face.

Sending her a soft smile, he answered. “It’s a vampire thing.” He said simply. 

“Ohh.” She said, nodding in understanding. She guessed there was a lot more to understand than she had realized. The whole thing had happened so quickly, she was just now getting the time to process his touch. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she hoped the embarrassment that she felt, she would be able to blame on the near fainting as well as the blush. “Sorry, I think I just stool up too quick.” She said, feeling as if the heat in her cheeks would never go away. 

Jasper shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize.” He said, brushing his thumb along the exposed skin of her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manor. Dark bruises littered the pale skin, and found himself wishing, hoping that his fingerprints wouldn’t show up along with the others soon. He knew that with her sickness came bruising easily, but he dreaded the day that he would inevitably cause one of the purple splotches. “Why don’t you go and lay down? I’ll go get some water for you.” He offered, dropping his hold on her once he could see that she could hold her own weight once more. 

Nodding, she lowered her gaze bashfully, slightly embarrassed that she couldn’t even do a simple task without narrowly avoiding an accident. “Thanks.” She muttered as she made her way back to the bed, lowering herself slowly onto the cool sheets. 

Jasper made his way out of her bedroom, when, suddenly a burning tore through his throat. Realizing as he heard a car door shut outside, that her mother must have just arrived back from the store, he rushed forward to turn the lock and open the front door for her. A brief flash of shock crossed her face as she looked at the pale figure in the doorframe. “Jasper, lovely to see you again.” She greeted as a smile formed on her lips. “Didn’t know you were staying after driving Camila home.” She said. 

He hurried forward, at a human speed of course, to help gather the plastic bags that were filled with food from the trunk. “Sorry, Ma’am, I don’t mean to intrude.” He apologized, not wanting to be a burden or make the woman uncomfortable from his presence.

Michelle shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. “Of course not, you’re never anything but a perfect gentleman. Speaking of which, you really don’t need to help bring those in, Hon.” She said sweetly, going to grab the bags from his hands.

“Nonsense, it’t no bother at all.” He reassured, southern accent thick as he gathered the remaining bags. As he turned, seeing her shocked face, he realized that he may have been overzealous in trying to grab them all at once, halfway exposing his superhuman strength purely by accident. He hunched his shoulders slightly, trying to play off that they at least looked heavy, as he let out a light laugh. “Dad always said it should only take one trip.” He joked, trying to play it off.

She nodded slowly, letting out a soft laugh her self. “Guess so.” She said, grabbing her keys from her purse to lock the vehicle. “How is Carlisle? We have an appointment with him tomorrow.” She asked politely, trying to find conversation to fill the silence as the two made their way back into the home to the kitchen.

Dropping the bags carefully on the kitchen counter, he turned to her. “He’s good. Busy at the hospital, been taking extra shifts lately to help with a shortage of doctors.” He answered.

The woman smiled at his words. “He’s a miraculous man. I hope he’s not over working himself.” She said, slightly concerned. Jasper smiled at the inside joke, humming in response. Carlisle often had to force himself to go home when it was like this. Right before he had met Edward had been the worst timing for this. Hundreds were dying all around his from the Spanish Influenza and there he was, wishing that he could be working, helping twenty-four hours a day but knowing he couldn’t. No human could operate like that, and that’s how he needed to appear. Human. 

One word in particular that she had said had stuck out, however. Miraculous. He hoped that she hadn’t meant the word in a literal way. He knew from conversations with Carlisle as well as with Camila that this is what they had been hoping for. A miracle. It hurt him to know that there would be none coming for them. Either decision the Camila would end up making, they would lose her. It was impossible to change that fact. Impossible to make the loss easier for them.

But, clearly a miracle was what they had been hoping for. Camila had told him what had happened when she had been diagnosed. The cancer had progressed too far for chemo to really have any chance of working, so they hadn’t done it. There was no point of putting her though all of that if it didn’t have a chance of working. That’s why they had moved to Forks. Not only for the cheaper cost of living, but in hopes that Carlisle could help. But Jasper knew better. He knew that Camila’s life would end soon, and there was nothing left to do to prevent it from happening.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he cleared his throat before speaking. “I was getting Camila some water when I heard you get back from the store.” He said, trailing off towards the end. 

She smiled, grateful to have him there, trying to take care of her baby for her. He clearly cared a great bit for her, and she only hoped that he wouldn’t grow too attached. “There’s some bottled water in the fridge.” She told him, moving to start unpacking the bags of groceries. 

“Thanks.” He answered, moving to grab one of the bottles before heading back to Camila’s room. Closing the door softly behind him, he looked up from the creaking floorboards to find her fast asleep. He couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his lips as he peered at her sleeping form. There she was, as peaceful as could be, small puffs of air leaving her parted lips. 

He couldn’t stop himself from staring as he lost himself in the view. Her cheekbones were prominent, her face clearly thinned from the illness. Darkness circled her eyes, leaving soft purple rings. She was absolutely beautiful, of course, but it was obvious to his advanced eyes that she was unwell. He wasn’t sure how he had missed it before, and he wandered, now, how she had looked before all of this. What she would look like if she changed. He shook his head, needing to stop before he got carried away.

Breaking himself from his trance, he pushed forward, setting the perspiring water bottle on her makeshift nightstand of cardboard boxes. He turned, reaching to grasp the edge of her blanket before draping it softly along her thin frame, watching closely as she shifted slightly under the fluffy fabric. He turned back towards the door, deciding that he should leave, seeing as she clearly needed the rest.

“Jasper?” A soft voice broke him from his thoughts. His head shot back, looking towards the direction in which the croaky voice sounded from. Camila remained in the same spot, eye squinted as she looked at his frame from her place on the bed. “Please don’t leave.” She said, so soft that he wasn’t sure if he would’ve heard it without his advanced hearing. How could he say no to her?

He knew he couldn’t, as if he wanted to in the first place, so he just nodded his head and walked straight back to her. He eased his way under the covers, leaning slightly on the wall behind the head of the mattress, half sitting, half laying down, not wanting to ease too far into the situation, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. She sighed in content, laying her head softly on his arm, and hummed a small ‘thanks’.

Pretty much immediately, she was back to sleeping. He could hear her heart rate had slowed to a steady pace, breathing mellowing back out as she sunk deeper into her sleep. The rhythm was comforting to him. Despite being in the next room, his throat still burned from the scent of her mother, and luckily for him, Camila was a nice distraction from this. 

It probably wasn’t the best idea to be there alone in the first place, no one there to stop him if something bad happened. It had been one thing when him and Camila had been alone, that much he could trust himself with. Now though, Michelle was home and her blood was calling out to him. It was just a matter of time before her father arrived home from work, and then the burning would only intensify. But she was worth it. He could never say no to her. He would never be able to say no to her. 

So, he remained there, unmoving for more minutes than he could count, not wanting to wake her, as she shifted slightly, moving further onto him as she rested her head comfortably on his chest. If his heart still beat it would’ve been erratic. 

Without meaning to, they had had more physical contact in the past twelve hours that they had ever before. He knew he should stop himself, knowing that he should keep the barriers between them strong. Not wanting to accidentally hurt her, but he couldn’t help himself as he wrapped his arm securely around her frame. He couldn’t help but embrace her as she did the same to him, even if she wasn’t fully aware of it. 

He could feel his feelings for her grow by the second, vaguely aware that they were teetering on the edge of love. He knew it was ridiculous, having only known her for such a short amount of time, but he couldn’t help it. Others in his family had explained the feeling to him before, so he was aware of the fact that it all moved much quicker for his kind. Vampire’s mated for life, and if he felt like this with her already, if Alice had truly seen them together, in love, in the future, he knew he was completely and utterly fucked. He knew, in that moment, that if she did chose to die, to let her illness take her away from him, he was done for.

——————

February 1st, 2005

Camila’s second appointment had been scheduled for directly after she finished with school, and she was grateful that she wouldn’t miss her daily calculous class with Jasper. She had come to enjoy the short forty-five minute class, having the excuse to see him everyday. On top of this, she had spent yet another lunch break at the Cullen table, by the request of not only Jasper, but Alice as well. 

After her conversation with Tyler the day previous, she had been more than happy to  take them up on their offer. Tyler had deliberately avoided her between classes that day, and if it was either him being jealous or him just avoiding her all together because of her outburst, she didn’t care. 

She just couldn’t bring herself to give a fuck anymore. Did she really need friends that shit on other people like he had done to Jasper anyway? Okay, so maybe he hadn’t completely shit on him, but he had been rude, and tried to pass it off as caring for her. Fuck that. If he wanted to remain friends, then he could apologize. Her relationship with Jasper, whatever that relationship entailed, wasn’t going to change on account of the Tyler’s ‘concern’.

So she had graciously excepted their invite at lunch, and luckily for her, Edward had been absent from the table, having chosen to sit at another with the company of Bella Swan. Camila chose not question his antics, not even in her head, as she knew that he would be able to hear her thoughts, but she couldn’t help of think of Jasper’s words. Either way it would end badly. The words sent an uncomfortable chill down her spine, but she would ignore it. It wasn’t anymore her business than her and Jasper were Tyler’s.

Her and Jasper. The new information he had given her had been cycling through her mind ever since. A chance at forever with him. It scared her. She knew how she felt towards him, and she knew that those feelings were only growing stronger, and if she was being honest with herself, they scared her. Scared her that he wouldn’t feel the same way for her. In truth, she didn't know what to do. Her only hope was to wait and see how things would pan out. To hope for the best. 

After a long day of school work and overthinking everything Jasper had told her, by the time her appointment with Carlisle had rolled around, her head was throbbing. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for him to say as they sat there in the waiting room with her parents. Wasn’t sure what she was hoping for him to do once he had seen the results of her latest run of tests, but what she did know was what she hoped he wouldn’t say. She hoped that he wouldn’t suggest anything expensive. 

It was clear that her parents held too much hope in him. Too much hope that he could fix what was wrong with her, but she knew better. She knew that she would die soon. She had known that since the day she had been diagnosed. It had been a gut wrenching feeling that she couldn’t shake, despite being told that there was a chance that she could get better. She knew better than to believe it, than to hope. Jasper’s words had only confirmed that for her. 

So she did hope, with every fiber of her being that he would do what was best and not dig them an even deeper financial hole than they had already dug themselves. Of course, once he had sat them in his office, tried to make small talk, attempting to soften the blow of the bad news, he had confirmed what she had already known. The tests had all come back unanimously. “Three to five months.” he said, face grave as he delivered the information.

Her father drooped in his seat, defeated, but determined not to cry. To hold himself together for his wife and daughter. Her mother almost immediately shook with silent sobs, small squeaks leaving her lips as she attempted to breath through the tears. Camila, however, remained unmoving in her seat, face blank of emotion. She had expected as much. Maybe a bit more time, but not by a lot. So she had a little bit less time to make her decision, so be it. Oh well, better not to drag it out anyway, right? 

Maybe it made her seem heartless, but really, she was just tired. Tired of trying to be sad about her life ending. There was only so long you could be upset, knowing it would end soon anyway, and she had already been given enough time for that. The months following her diagnosis had been bad enough as it was. Loosing her friends. Loosing her boyfriend who she had thought loved her. She had already been pushed to that breaking point, so to hear that her pain and suffering would end soon, one way or another, was not the worst news she could hear. What pained her was her parent’s reactions, and she knew that they were both trying the best they could to not upset her more, so she tried her best to ignore that pain. 

She had always hoped that maybe they would try for another kid once she was gone. They had both been so young when she was born, so it was entirely possible. She knew the past year had been torturous for them too, but in an entirely different way. So, was it that bad for her to be thankful that they would be able to start their healing even easier than she had hoped for? To maybe start new? She didn’t think so.

Carlisle had been solemn as he continued delivering the news to them. The news that there were no treatments that would help her at that stage. The news that the meds she had been taking had not been working to slow the progression of the cancer like they had hoped. The news that her liver was beginning to show signs of deterioration. The news that their daughter’s body just wasn’t sustaining her life the way that it should. 

“The best thing to do in this situation is to try and make her as comfortable as possible.” He said, face laced with sadness. “We can up her pain meds. This should not only help with the pain, but also the shortness of breath that you’ve been reporting.” He said, addressing the last part to Camila as he gave her a soft, sympathetic smile. They no longer had to worry about the risk of addiction, only to ease her discomfort. And when the time came, that she was on her last branch of life, they would move her to hospice and start administering morphine on a regular basis. And then she would be gone. Easy enough she supposed. Definitely a cheeper route than chemo or radiation therapy, so she couldn’t complain.

The car ride home had been silent. She didn’t know what to say and clearly neither did her parents. The pain was palpable in the atmosphere, so much so that she was glad when they arrived home. Glad to be able to be alone in her room. Give them the space they needed to feel all that they needed to feel without having to try and be strong for her benefit. 

So, that’s what they did. They felt. She could hear her mother’s sobs through the thin walls of the home. Hear her father trying to comfort her to no avail, and eventually hear his quiet sobs as well. Sleep had not come easy that night, so abnormally, she had been awake when the light tapping started tat her window.

She had thought she had been imagining things at first, maybe hallucinating from the lack of sleep in the past day, but then it came again. Tap tap tap. Slowly, she rolled out of the covers of her bed, inching her way towards the window, where she ripped open the thin curtain. Her body jolted as a small squeal left her lips, clutching at her chest for dear life. “Jesus. You’re going to give me heart attack one of these days.” She complained, unlatching the lock on the creaky frame of the window. Using all of her strength to pry it open, she stepped back aways to let Jasper climb through into her bedroom. 

“What did I tell you, Darlin’? The name is Jasper. You should know this by now.” He teased, smirk deepening his dimples as she rolled her eyes at him. “Carlisle told me how it went today at the hospital, hope you don’t mind him breaking HIPAA and all.” He said, the smirk dropping from his face as he raising his hand to brush a stray piece of hair from her face, resting a comforting palm on her cheek after.

She blinked, not having it in herself to even try and stop her racing heart. “I would’ve ended up telling you anyway.” She answered, not looking away from his amber eyes. 

“I know.” He muttered. “Come here.” He said, pulling her gently into his chest. He knew what she needed. Despite her hard exterior, her emotionless reaction that Carlisle had informed him of, he could feel her emotional pain. What caused it, knowing how soon she would die, knowing that there really was nothing to cure her, or seeing her parents in pain, he didn’t know. Either way, she needed the comfort, and that he could give her.

She buried her face in the fabric of his hoodie, letting tears that she didn’t even know she had flow free. She didn’t know exactly what she was crying about, not caring enough to try and figure it out. She only knew that he was holding her, and that was enough. So that night he stayed. Stayed until the early hours of the morning when she awoke to dress for school. Stayed and held her in his arms as her tears left stains in the fabric of his clothes. Stayed as she clenched that very same fabric in her fists, refusing to let go as sleep finally overcame her. 

Sure, the burning in his throat was twice as bad, because he had missed his hunting and two more humans were sleeping just down the hallway, veins pumping full of sweet smelling, temping blood. But in that moment he didn’t care. He would endure anything for this girl and he knew it. 

——————

February 3rd, 2005

The next few days had gone by slowly. Her parents had yet to bring up what had happened at the hospital. Whether that was because they couldn’t handle it, or because they thought it would upset her, she didn't know, but she was happy to avoid the conversation. The drive to school had been as if the whole ordeal hadn’t happened. Like she hadn’t listened in as her parents sobbed themselves to sleep. Like she couldn’t see the red puffy eyes of her mother’s that were left there as evidence. 

Her mother had smiled her best smile and tried to make conversation. “So, you and Jasper seem to be hanging out quite a bit.” She commented, causing a blush to creep up to Camila’s cheeks. Camila hummed in response, trying her best to hide the redness in her face as she looked out of the window, suddenly very interested in the trees blurring past. Seeing that she wasn’t going to verbally reply, she continued. “I like him. He’s very polite… and cute.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows her eyebrows as she nudged her daughter’s shoulder. 

Camila let out an exaggerated groan, running her hands over her warm face. “Mom, please.” She begged.

Michelle gasped dramatically. “What? I’m just making conversation.” She said teasingly.

“Please, anything but this topic.” Camila complained, the words muffled by her hands that remained in front on her face, trying to block her mother’s view of the red tinted cheeks.

“Ohhh…” Michele sighed out. “You like him, don’t you?” She asked. She already knew the answer of course. It was obvious, if only to her. She knew her daughter and she could tell how she felt towards the boy. 

Camila sighed in relief as she dropped her hands, Forks High School coming into view. She gathered her things in her lap as the car came to a stop, turning to address her mother once more. “Bye, Mom. I love you.” She said pointedly, earning a chuckle from the woman as she opened the door. 

She made her way inside the building, and as soon as her boot clad feet touched the smooth tile of the hallways, an arm slung around her shoulder. Her body immediately tensed, feeling the warmth coming from the touch. She looked up to see his face, Tyler Crowley. “Hey.” He said, nonchalantly.

She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. Surely, that wasn’t how he was going to start the conversation, right? He couldn’t be serious, surely not. He grimaced, seeing her slight glare. “About the other day…” He said, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. Camila gestured with her hand, urging him to go on. What was he five? Did he seriously need someone to hold his hand while he was apologizing? 

He cleared his throat. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t butt in to your business.” He said, seemingly gritting his teeth as he forced the words out.

Camila nodded her head slowly, pulling herself out from his uncomfortable embrace. “You’re right, you shouldn’t.” She said simply. “That being said, don’t do it again, okay?” She asked. 

He nodded, giving her a tight lipped smile, as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Promise.” He said, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Camila nodded her head curtly. “Good.” She said, and that was the end of that. Despite his apology, she didn’t exactly want to be around him in that moment. So, she had opted instead to talk sit next to Angela during class. Camila hadn’t gotten the time to talk to the girl much that week, much to her dismay, but luckily, her history class didn’t have assigned seats, so she took the opportunity and ran with it.

“Hey.” She called out, setting her things down on the desk as she pulled out the chair next to the girl. 

Angela looked up, seemingly startled by the sudden attention. “Hi, Camila.” She said, sending her a bright smile. “I haven’t seen you around much, how have you been?” She asked sweetly.

“Just busy with being at a new school and all. How about you?” Camila asked politely, giving her a kind smile. Angela had always been nothing but sweet to her, seemingly a genuinely nice person. 

Angela beamed in response. “Oh you know, crazy busy too. The school paper and twin brothers keep life interesting.” She said, giggling fondly at the thought of the two toddlers. Her smile remained as she leaned over slightly, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You seem to be busy with Jasper Hale more than anything.” She teased. 

God, how many people were going to bring him up? Was she that obvious? Was it that clear to everyone how she felt for him? She hoped not. “Shut up.” She said, nudging Angela’s shoulder with her own, not even attempting to hide the blush that had found its way back on her face.

“Oh come on.” Angela said, smile still shining bright. “You’ve got to see the way he looks at you.” She said. 

The words had sent Camila’s heart into overdrive. “Looks at me how?” She said, eyebrows furrowing as she looked down to her hands, spinning the rings that hung loosely off of her fingers.

Angela scoffed playfully. “Like you’re the only person in the room.” She said simply. Camila’s heart clattered against her ribcage. He didn't do that, surely not. Did he? “Has he asked you to prom yet?” She asked expectantly.

Shaking her head no, Angela looked disappointed. “Has anyone asked you yet?” Camila asked, trying to change the subject away from her and Jasper. 

“I keep thinking Eric’s going to ask me, then he just... doesn’t.” She said, letting out a disappointed sigh.

Camila perked up in her seat. “You should ask him.” She suggested. Angela’s eyes shot to her, a skeptical look plastered onto her face. “Take control. You’re a strong independent woman.” She reassured.

“Bella said the same thing.” Angela answered, dropping her eyes down, suddenly very interested in her chipping nail polish.

“See?” Camila asked brightly. “So you know it has to be true then.” She said finitely. Angela gave a soft, teetering smile and nodded.

The remainder of the class they spent taking turns reading through sections of their history book together, jotting down notes as they went. Once they were done with this, they moved on to their homework, finishing that fairly quickly as well. Angela was a good work partner. She took things seriously enough to get done with things fast, but also wasn’t too serious that she couldn’t hold basic conversation. 

By the end of the class, Camila had promised to accompany her and Jessica  with dress shopping for the prom next week. She wasn’t sure how she had been coerced into it, but knew it had something to do with her lack of ability to tell her no. She was just too nice, it was hard to reject the offer. As much as she was not looking forward to spending time with Jessica, Angela made up for it.

Like the day previous, she had opted to join Jasper at lunch. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the stares. They had to lose interest at some point, right? Surely the whole ordeal couldn’t be that interesting to them. Yeah, maybe they were attracting more today because Jasper currently had his arm slung around her shoulder, but that didn’t really give them the right to ogle. Sure, this time his arm was actually around her and not just the chair, but it was comforting. It helped ground her thoughts that had been racing all day and the coolness felt nice against her feverish skin. 

Edward, again was absent from the table, having joined Bella once again at a table of their own. A fact she was grateful for as she didn’t want him to be able to read her thoughts in that moment. Her thoughts that were swirling with Jasper. It was embarrassing if she was being honest. She couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind, and she wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of admitting to herself why that was. 

Alice perked up suddenly in her seat, turning to address the girl next to her. “Camila, I almost forgot. They’re doing blood typing in biology class today. Carlisle said you should skip out on it since you bleed a lot easier than most.” She explained, giving her a bright smile. She turned her gaze to Jasper momentarily, raising her eyebrows. “Jasper can drive you home if you’d like, right Jazz?” She asked expectantly.

Jasper rolled his eyes playfully at his sister. “I’d be happy to.” He said, smiling down at Camila.

A low snicker sounded from across the table. “Yeah, you’d be happy to.” Emmett muttered. A loud thwack sounded from under the table, followed by a groan of pain. “Okay, okay. No more teasing, Jasper. I got it.” He said, leaning down to hold his leg as he glared at the golden haired immortal. 

Camila couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the whole ordeal. In fact, she often found herself not able to hold back her laughter with the group of vampires. She was comfortable with them, able to be much more open than she ever had before. She had nothing to hide with them. It was exhilarating, being able to be herself.

A shrill bell rung out across the crowded room, signaling the end of their lunch hour. Jasper reluctantly removed his arm from her shoulders, pulling himself to a stand and opting instead to offer his hand to the girl. She excepted the invitation, letting him help pull her to her feet as she slung her backpack onto her free arm. He did the same, grabbing both of their mostly untouched trays of food, and dumping them in the trash bin on their way out of the cafeteria. 

Hand holding had become a normal thing for them over the past few days, always finding themselves in need of some form of physical contact from each other. Camila chose not to read too far into this, not wanting to become expectant of what his feelings for her were. So, they walked hand in hand, making sure nobody watched as the divided from the crowd to exit through the front doors and into the parking lot. A plus to attending such a small school compared to the last high school she had gone to, not as many adults to notice when a couple of students slipped out for the remainder of the day. 

The drive to her home was a short and silent one, both teens opting to bask in the comfortable silence as he drove, winding down the woodsy roads. Once they arrived, he pulled up to the curb, putting the car in park as he turned to her. “Do you want me to walk you in?” He asked, the corners of his mouth pulling up slightly. 

Camila’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not coming in?” She asked, shoulders drooping in disappointment. She had grown so accustomed to spending time with the amber eyed teen that she hadn’t even questioned it, assuming he would spend time with her in her room like they had repeatedly in the past week. 

He shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. Your mother’s home, and I haven’t hunted for a while…” He said trailing off, ashamed of his confession.

Camila smiled to him, leaning forward to plant a quick peck to his cheek, shocking even herself as she did so. Her lips tingled from the touch as she pulled back, offering a small smile. “It’s okay, Jazz. Promise.” She assured him, gathering her things as she moved to exit the car. 

“I can come by later tonight if you want, after I fix my whole… situation.” He said, catching her attention once more.

She turned back to him. “Only if you want to.” She said.

He grinned brightly at her. “I’ll always want to, Darlin’.” He said, smile not leaving his face as he watched her turn away and head towards the house. He sat there, unmoving as he made sure she made it safely inside. Waiting until she was out of view before he raised his hand to his cheek, feeling where she had left her kiss. Feeling the phantom burn of her warm plump lips on his icy skin.

——————

Jasper had come through with his promise that night, of course. This time the tapping on her window had sent her heart racing for a completely different reason altogether. Like always, as soon as she had laid her eyes on his face, all the stress from her day had lifted from her shoulders. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that he had been using his powers on her, but no. That was just the effect that he had on her. 

Oddly enough, even though it was nearly midnight, she wasn’t tired. She had taken some of her pain meds once she had gotten home from school and had almost immediately knocked out. So there she was, wide awake, Jasper by her side, hand in hand as what had become their usual. 

“How was hunting?” She asked, looking up to see that his eyes had returned to their normal golden color. 

He smiled to her. “Good, got a grizzly.” He said casually, causing her eyes to widen in shock. 

“Like, a grizzly bear?” She asked incredulously. He nodded, laughing lightly at her shock. “Guess you weren’t lying about vampires being crazy strong.” She muttered.

“You should see Emmet. Grizzlies are his favorite.” He said, laughing like it was some kind of inside joke.

Camila took the bait. “How come?” She asked, urged on by pure curiosity. 

Jasper paused for a moment, trying to think of the best way to tell the story. “Probably has to do with the fact that a bear is why he was changed.” He started, watching her face intently as he continued. “He had been mauled by one in 1935, when he was still human. Rosalie had been the one to find him and bring him to Carlisle. They’ve been together ever since.” He finished.

Camila stared up at him in awe. “That’s actually really cute.” She admitted. “Not the whole almost dying thing, but him and Rosalie.” She corrected herself. “Was that how it was with everyone else. Were they dying too?” She asked, curiously. 

Jasper hummed. “Some of us. Carlisle is the oldest, he was changed in 1663. His father had been a pastor, leading hunts for vampires. Carlisle ended up taking over for him at some point, and of course, unlike his father, he was intelligent enough to find a real coven. In the chaos of it all, he ended up getting bitten and left there, bleeding in the middle of the street. He hid in a cellar for the transformation and had tried killing himself at first.” He paused, hearing the soft gasp that left her lips. “We’re pretty indestructible though, he didn’t want to be a monster. Didn’t want to feed off of humans. That’s when he figured out that our kind could survive off of animal blood.” He ended.

Camila sat there in awe of the story. “Woah.” She muttered, eyes still wide. “Talk about superhuman self control.” She said, astounded. “Who was next?” She asked, not being able to put an end to her curiosity. 

He smiled at her, glad to see that the whole story was interesting to her, and hoping that it might also in some ways help prepare her for what was to come. “Then, was me, although it would be almost eighty-five years before I met Carlisle.” He said, pausing as he let her recall his story. “Then was Edward.” He continued. “He had been dying of Spanish influenza in 1918 in Chicago. He was being treated in the hospital where Carlisle was working at the time. His mother had been sick also. She had begged Carlisle as she died for him to save her son. So, when nobody was looking, he took Edward home, and changed him. Gave him a second chance at life.” He explained.

He sat there for a moment in silence, seeing pure interest and awe written on her face. “Then was Alice.” He continued. “She’s a big mystery. She has no memory of her human life. No idea how she was changed. She was alone for about twenty-eight years until she found me and brought me along with her to live with Carlisle in 1948.” He explained. He had of course briefly explained this part already, so he moved on to the next. 

“Then was Esme.” He continued. “She had met Carlisle briefly when she was sixteen when she had fallen out of a tree and broken her leg. He moved soon after, but he found her again about ten years later. She had been married to a man who abused her and had a child with him. The baby ended up dying only a few days later, it was a lot more common back then. She had been distraught as you can imagine and tried jumping off of a cliff. They thought she was dead when they brought her into the morgue, but Carlisle could hear that her heart was still beating. They got married a few years after she changed.” He finished.

Camila sat there for a moment, soaking in the stories that had just been told. It was all so fascinating, she couldn’t help but feel astonished. She had, of course, already known that Carlisle was an astonishing person, but now everything had been upped by ten. He had selflessly given so many people a new life. Given them a second chance. It all made sense. That’s why she had been given the option. Unlike his family, she had been given the time to make the choice for herself. Given the opportunity at that second chance. One that she definitely wouldn’t be taking for granted. 

“What about Rosalie?” She asked, suddenly realizing that he had left her story out.

He stayed silent for a moment, contemplating what he should tell her. It felt wrong, telling her story, with how intimate and private it had always seemed. With how hard Rosalie had taken the change compared to everyone else. “She was changed in 1933. Carlisle had found her bleeding out in the street… It’s really not my story to tell. Her ending was particularly brutal.” He said, trailing off as he remembered her pain as she had told him the story. “I’m sure she’ll tell you one day.” He assured her. 

She nodded understandingly. “If I do make the decision to change, then I would be a part of your family too?” She asked, somewhat timid of the topic. It scared her in all honesty. What if they ended up hating her? She didn’t want them to end up resenting her for her choice. She didn’t want to feel like a burden on them. To feel like she was an outsider. Like she didn’t belong.

Jasper stayed silent for a moment before he answered, feeling her worry and fear, wanting to make sure he used the correct words. “Yes, you would, but we would understand if you wanted to leave. We wouldn’t want you to feel trapped.” He explained, voice soft.

Camila shook her head at his words, brows creasing as she looked deep into his eyes. “It’s not that.” She assured him. “I mean, they barely know me…” She hesitated. “What if they don’t like me? You all have been a family for so long, I don’t want to get in the middle of that.” She said, the corners of her mouth turning downward as she admitted her fears.

“Camila.” He said softly, cupping his hand gently on the back of her neck, letting his thumb brush her cheek lightly. “They’re all going to love you.” He whispered. It pained him to hear her so unsure of herself. He may have been biased, but he couldn’t imagine a person hating her for the life of him.

“How do you know that though?” She asked, resisting the urge to lean into his touch for comfort as her heart hammered in her chest. 

“Well, two things.” He started, beginning to get lost in the emeralds of her eyes. Feeling as if they had been pulling him in, refusing to let him go. “Alice has seen it, and I’m fairly certain that it would be impossible to not love you.” He said, voice barely audible as he finished. For a moment he wasn’t sure if she had heard him, and if he was honest, he wasn’t completely sure if he wanted her too.

Although it wasn’t exactly an admission, it felt like the biggest one of them all. The implication that he was falling for her. Because that’s what it was, love, he knew it. Sure, it felt ridiculous, only having known her for such little time, but didn’t stop his cold un-beating heart from feeling that way for her. There was no logic, no understanding. It just was, and if it wasn’t love yet, he knew that it would develop into love. There was no doubt in his mind. 

Thoughts swirled in her head as she processed his words. He hadn’t exactly admitted anything to her, but that didn’t stop her heart from reacting like he had. She stared into his eyes for a moment more, before, without even realizing it, she began to lean into his touch, their faces inching closer and closer by the second. He was leaning in as well, she realized, drawn in towards each other like magnets.

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, forcing himself to freeze as their noses brushed, his eyes clenching shut with the effort to restrain himself. “Jasper.” She whispered, warm breath fanning his lips as she tried to regulate her breathing. 

His eyes remained closed as he rested his forehead to hers, feeling the warmth in her touch. Trying to find the strength to pull away. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered.

“Please don’t make me beg.” She answered, voice soft and thick with emotion.

And that was it. He knew he wouldn’t have it in himself to say no, and as the words left her lips, he gave in. Gave in to the temptation and closed the gap between them as he crashed his lips to hers, trying with every ounce of his body to be gentle as he sunk into her. Her lips burned into his, feeling as if they would leave a mark that would never heal over.

The feeling was like nothing she had ever felt before. Sure she had kissed before, she had even had sex before. But this, kissing Jasper, felt like the most intimate thing she had ever been a part of. Their lips moving softly together, in sync like they had been made for each other. And maybe they had, because it sure as hell felt like that.

Next Chapter

Tag List:

@jasper-the-beloved @parkchaeyoung1997 @bobaopal @izzyisstuff @itsmytimetoodream @soyeonrai @just-browsing101 @demirunner @dkbj14 @iloveramensm @imyelenasexual @bella7866 @ropickle @may-and-lay @breezybeesposts @emily-a13 @mamajaxx2511 @meyrryme @bertholdtswife @swagcopangeloop @idonotcareaboutyouropinion @honey132 @sakurayuki8655-blog @braveangel777 @illogic-ally @obsessed-with-pychopaths @natsvenom @iamveryholyiswear @too-many-fandoms-tbh @loser-syrus @madeofeverythingjuice @b-tchymoon @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sabage101 @simon-e-mallory 

[writers-wrongs]

some yandere stu macher with a male reader hcs?? 👀 please and thank you

finally, some scream! if i had to pick a favorite movie, this would be it. heads up for depictions of violence, im not too graphic but its there

yandere!stu macher x male!reader

-youre the new guy at school, and when he sees you, it is on SIGHT. he is so close to you all of the time. hope you didnt like personal space!

-if he were buff hed be a himbo. what im saying is that hes really stupid and friendly, always coming up to you and bothering you to hang out with him

-you end up mixed in with his friend group, be it because you want him to stop hounding you to join in or because you actually like him. but he and billy do have the whole murder spree planned...

-stu couldnt kill you! he wouldnt! you laugh at his jokes, you help him with personal issues, you treat him better than his own girlfriend! of course, maybe thats because hes been neglecting tatum in favor of you... but still! because of the homophobia of the time, i dont think hed declare his feelings as love, but deep down he knows thats what it is

-billy can see theres no budging on this. he needs stu for this plan, and stu says you get to live. when billy finally concedes with stabbing you in some nonvital areas and leaving it at that, stu is the happiest little slasher this side of the bates motel

-once the killing starts, hes somehow even more all over you. making sure youre not too scared, keeping you company overnight (though he sneaks out to attack sidney). tatum is glaring daggers at you constantly, because her boyfriend is very clearly in love with you

-on the night of his house party, hes the one stabbing you. he insisted on it, in fact. he was worried billy would be too rough with you, and he cant have you bleeding out! hes incredibly intimate as he does it, muttering sweet nothings behind the ghostface mask. as you pass out from blood loss, he peels the bottom of the mask up and gives you a little kiss

-and then youre out for just about the rest of the movie. that said, youre kinda left for dead as the house is left empty. but a bit later, you wake up to see... ghostface tending to your wounds? you can hear panicked whimpers from under the mask, the killer on the verge of tears worrying that he killed you. in an attempt to calm himself down, he yanks the mask off, and its stu. his face is a cut up, burnt mess, but its him

-as he patches you up, he apologizes for ever hurting you. tatum, randy, sidney, even billy would all be ok collateral damage, but you? nonono, he could never lose you. youre his, he cant ever let you go. he kisses all over your face as he cries, promising he wont ever hurt you again

-once you two are both well enough to go on the run, you flee town, whether you want to go with him or not. youre both counted as victims of the ghostface killings (billy is framed as the mastermind with stu being helplessly manipulated), and the lack of corpses isnt worried about. he finds a place for you two to live, and depending on your reaction to all this, it goes one of two ways

-if youre into him, great! youre his now. not like you werent before, but hes the clingiest boyfriend imaginable. he is in your arms constantly, and at any point you have to move, he starts mock crying about how his scars hurt and only you can make it better. hes such a baby despite having multiple kills under his belt

-if youre (rightfully) not interested, he gets whiny. he doesnt blame you, he is a serial killer after all, but cmon! he saved your life! yeah, he was the one who stabbed you in the first place, but who cares about that! everyone else left you for dead, hes the only one who actually gives a damn about you! just love him already! same outcome as you being accepting, but hes a lot more pouty and youre tied up

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 3

This will fill the, Isolated/Trapped square on my @jacklesversebingo card. This is my last entry on my bingo card!!! This is the first time, out of NUMEROUS bingos, that I've actually completed my whole card!! 😍😍

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Mild smut, more, making out, really. Show level violence. Angst. Grief. Sadness. Fluff. The usual from me. 😜

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 7,698 (🫣🫣 I'm so sorry - this last part had a lot of story to tell!)

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. The first part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19 23 - I'm very sorry! But it's here now!)

Series Masterlist

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean sat in the empty motel room, grateful to be alone once again. He'd been avoiding their motels as much as possible over the last couple of weeks because he needed that solitude. It was too hard to be in the same room with her; to sit across the table from her and not be able to reach over and take her hand - it was awful.

So, he'd been sleeping in the Impala's back seat a lot lately, making due with the confined space, and trying not to think about the very pleasurable times he'd spent back there with Y/N in his lap. 

He was pretty sure those times wouldn't come again. Y/N had made it fairly clear she wasn't interested in moving forward now. She'd barely spoken two words to him in as many weeks. He'd come close to apologizing a few times. But then his anger talked him out of it. 

I have nothing to apologize for, he thought angrily. 

She was the one who needed to apologize. But his anger at her didn't make it any easier to keep his hands off of her when she was around. It didn't stop his heart from squeezing painfully tight every time he looked at her and remembered how perfect she felt in his arms.

Which was why he stayed away.

But sometimes he couldn't avoid coming back. He was back now because his dad had called him that morning and told him they were trailing a big nest of vamps a few towns over. Seemed to be a nasty group, so they were gonna need all the help they could get in planning how to take them down. 

He knew he'd promised their dads that their relationship (or loss of it) wouldn't interfere with the team. So, he came back immediately.

But when he got to the motel they'd been staying in for the last while, it was empty. So, he just sat and waited for them to return.

When the door finally opened he looked up, expecting to see the group of them coming back. But only Y/N slipped through the door, pulling up short when she saw him sitting at the table. 

There were a few seconds of frozen staring from both of them before Dean broke eye contact and took his gun out of his inside jacket pocket and started pulling it apart, pretending he was going to clean it, simply to give his hands something to do. 

Y/N stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind her. She took off her jacket and sat on the couch under the window. Dean was hyper aware of her every move; he could smell her perfume and he gritted his teeth against its effect. 

He snuck in a glance at her and had to hold in a moan at how fucking gorgeous she looked. She was wearing tight black jeans and a pale pink sweater that fell off her shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. Her hair was up in a ponytail, exposing her long, extremely kissable neck. 

Dean bit his lip and then swept his gaze away quickly when Y/N looked up at him. 

Jesus Christ, being here is torture, Dean thought.

After another minute of silence, Y/N gave a huff of annoyance. “This is so stupid.” She said suddenly, the words bursting out of her like an explosion. 

Dean looked up from his gun cautiously. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to elaborate. She stood up and walked over to the table, plunking herself down on the chair across from him. He sat back in his chair and tried to pretend he wasn't retreating from her effect on him. Being so close, and yet so far, was extraordinarily painful.

She opened her arms wide, questioning. “This is stupid.” She repeated, “Can't we just move on from this, like we always do?”

He shrugged as though he was indifferent and then looked her in the eye.

“Sure, if I hear an apology in there somewhere, we can definitely leave it behind.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, making the same hurt and anger from their last conversation begin to burn in his heart again.

“Apologize?” She said with disdain. “For what?”

Dean clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her and trying to force her to see how much her attitude and judgment had hurt him.

Instead, with extreme effort, he kept his voice low and steady. “How about, for breaking your promises?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again. “God, you’re so dramatic!” She said angrily. “I didn't ‘break my promises’.” 

“Yeah, you did, actually!” Dean shot back, some of his feelings seeping into his tone despite himself. “You promised you wouldn't get mad. Swore you wouldn't freak out.”

He tapped two fingers against his chest. “I didn't wanna talk about it! I TOLD you I didn't wanna talk about it. But you insisted.” He said, pointing his two fingers at her now. “So I told you the truth - and you nailed me with it.”

He fell silent, and Y/N watched him. Her nostrils were flared and she wore the stubborn, defensive expression that meant she wasn't going to back down. 

“Yeah well,” she said, skating her eyes away from his, “it was a LOT of truth.”

“Whatever, the point is,” Dean said coldly, “you promised I could trust you with the truth and then you broke your promise; you immediately got pissed and judgy.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes a third time, and it was the last straw for Dean. “Yeah, okay.” He said, quickly reassembling his partially disassembled gun. “Tell my dad I'll be back later.”

He put the gun back in his pocket and stood up. “Clearly you don't give a shit, so whatever - this is done.”

He stomped towards the door.

“Wait!” Y/N said quickly, standing up. But he ignored her and reached the door. “What do you mean, done? You mean…the conversation is done, or…?”

She left the question dangling and Dean turned back to her. He took all of her in - her beauty that clobbered him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, her expression of anger, fear, and stubbornness - and he shook his head.

“We were stupid to think this was ever gonna work.” He said quietly. He saw her expression crumple for a moment and it was almost his undoing. But then she jutted her chin and her voice was accusing as she shouted at him, her voice full of derision.

“You're telling me I have to apologize, but what about you? Where have you been, Dean? You're hardly ever here. So, who are you…just where have you been staying?”

Her question hit him like a punch. He clenched his teeth, anger simmering with hurt. “Why don't you just ask me what you really wanna ask me, Y/N?”

Y/N's face was dark and stormy and her voice dripped with acid. “Fine.” She enunciated her words exactly. “Who are you sleeping with now?”

Dean didn't let the wound she caused show on his face, instead he let his own arrow fly.

He shrugged carelessly and let ice settle over his expression. “Whoever says yes.”

Despite the direct hit he knew he scored, he took no pleasure in drawing blood and turned away quickly from what he was leaving behind.

***

Three days later

Y/N woke up in the dark, choking on blood. She instinctively turned her head towards the ground, coughing and spitting the coppery taste out of her mouth. She jumped as a voice spoke beside her in the dark.

“Now, now, sweet thing, you just drink up.” As her eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark she could make out the shape of a man standing beside her. He reached out and petted her hair before gripping the back of her head and holding it still as he pushed his wrist against her mouth and she tasted the blood again. 

She screamed and tried to get away, but her wrists were bound above her and the sounds of chains rattled as she fought against his hold. Finally he pulled his wrist away from her mouth, but whispered in her ear.

“Sorry to lock you away like this, beautiful, but the others are gonna be jealous and want a piece of you and I want you all to myself.” She felt him lean into her, placing chapped lips against her cheek. “You were just too pretty to eat. I wanna keep ya.”

Y/N was choking and gagging on his blood, and as terrifying truths began to push their way into her mind, tears clogged her throat as well.

The man ran a hand down her cheek and she shuddered. “I know you feel rotten right now, beautiful,” the man whispered again, “but that's just because you haven't eaten.”

He ran his hands up her arms and tightened the rope that bound her wrists. She looked up and saw that the rope was tied into some kind of pulley system that disappeared into the dark above her, those were the chains she’d heard.

“Now, I don’t want my scared little filly to run, so…” He stepped away from her and began tugging on a rope that worked the pulley, raising her a foot off the ground so she dangled there like a fish on a hook. “You just stay put while I fetch you some dinner.”

He came back to stand in front of her and let both his hands trace down over her sides, coming to rest on her hips and squeezing them. “Then after you’ve eaten, and you’re feelin’ better, we can have some real fun.”

Y/N tried to move away from him, but he just slapped her ass and left her swinging there as he walked out. He slid a door open, and as light spilled in from the other side, she realized they were in a barn, and above her was a loft. The pulley system she was attached to was for hauling hay up into the high storage spot. 

The man blew her a kiss and closed the door with a thud.

Left there in the dark - trapped, alone, and terrified - Y/N began to panic. She struggled uselessly against the rope that bound her, but she just swung pathetically back and forth. She refused to think about the fact that her eyes had begun to adjust remarkably well to the dark, and her ears were starting to pick up sounds that had been beyond them minutes earlier.

She knew what that man really was, knew that he wasn’t really a man, but she couldn’t focus on what was happening to her or she’d start screaming and never stop.

Into her panic and fear, Dean’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, and she took strength from it, as though he was there with her, egging her on and annoying her into fighting back as he always had. Suddenly she could hear his voice in her head.

Figure out your next move.

She nodded. Yes, she needed to get her bearings and deal with the immediate problem, which was getting away from the slimy monster who had her trapped. She closed her eyes and thought back to her last memories before waking up in the dark.

She’d been hunting, they all had. They had been hunting the nest for a couple of days, and tracked them to a dilapidated old house two miles out of town. She was standing guard at the west entrance while Sam was at the south, both of them watching for stragglers.

It had happened in seconds, the monster grabbing her from behind, sinking its teeth into her flesh and provoking a blood-curdling scream from her throat before the world went dark.

Now she was awake, and she wished she could go back to oblivion. But she couldn’t. So she focused on her surroundings. Loud, off-key music had begun to play from somewhere on the other side of the door. She could hear raucous laughter and loud voices too, as though a party had started. 

She heard screams and suddenly the thick, metallic scent of blood hit Y/N’s nose and she panicked again at the way her senses heightened and her body ached with hunger. She was sick with want, with need for the blood she could smell beyond the door. There was no longer any way for her to hide from the truth. The man who held her was no man. He was a vampire, and now she was too.

Suddenly the barn door opened and the vamp came through again, dragging a half conscious woman behind him. The woman roused slightly when she was tossed to the ground, but she seemed incredibly weak, barely able to sit up. 

The vamp moved to the pulley and lowered Y/N’s feet back onto the ground. Y/N’s focus sharpened and a plan came to mind. She drew on Dean’s invisible strength and his always impressive calm in the face of stark odds.

The vamp walked up to Y/N and gave her a stern look. “Now, pretty thing, if I take you down, you have to promise to sit nicely and eat your dinner like a good girl.”

Y/N nodded and tried to sound starving, which wasn’t difficult.. “Yes, yes, I promise. Please, I’m just so hungry.”

The vamp chuckled and reached up to pull her down from the hook. “Yeah, I remember those days. I’m gonna make you all better.” He smiled at her and she could smell the blood on his breath.

He sat Y/N on a bale of hay and yanked the woman back up off the ground. He bit into her neck, where the skin was already covered in bite marks, opening her up again so that blood rushed down the front of her filthy blue shirt. 

The scent hit Y/N's nostrils again and suddenly she felt fangs descend behind her closed lips. She let out a horrified yelp that almost drowned out the woman's faint cries of distress. She raised a hand to her mouth and cut her finger on one of her own razor sharp teeth as she prodded at it. 

The vampire thrust the woman forward and she landed in Y/N's lap. “Eat up, sweetness.” The monster said with another chuckle. 

The woman was shaking and weak, her lips blue and nearly lifeless. Y/N felt as though her entire body was cracked and parched like a desert, and the alluring scent of the woman's blood felt like an oasis. But her big brown eyes begged for mercy from Y/N even though her voice had been silenced by weakness, and Y/N pushed her roughly off her lap and jumped to her feet. The vamp seemed startled by the move and his momentary confusion was her only saving grace. 

She kicked him as hard as she could in the nuts. His cry of pain was thankfully lost in the pounding music and the screams of the people being feasted on, just on the other side of the wall.

He fell to his knees and she kicked him hard again, in the face, knocking him over to sprawl on the barn floor. With her wrists still tied, she grabbed the long, pointed spade that hung on the wall three feet away, and jammed it into his throat. He gurgled and tried to rip the tool from her hand, but she wrenched it away from him and kicked him half a dozen more times while he writhed and bled on the ground. Finally she got a good angle and stuck him with the spade again, leaving his head hanging on by a few tendons and a bit of muscle tissue. 

She smashed the spade into his neck one final time and his head rolled towards her rather pathetically.

She stood staring at it for a few moments, as she panted and her head swam.

Finally she dropped the spade and ran to the woman lying a few feet away. The smell of her blood overwhelmed Y/N again and she immediately jumped back, desperate to control herself. 

But the blank, empty look on the woman's face told Y/N she was dead anyway; so she couldn't help or hurt her now. Y/N knew that in her present state there was nothing she could do for the people being killed on the other side of the wall either. So she pulled her wrists free of the rope and ran.

She tore out of the back of the barn, and ran as fast and as far as she could. She had no idea where she could run to, she was simply trying to outrun the monster she was now.

***

Fear sat heavy and thick in Dean's heart as he followed the obvious trail Y/N had left behind her. At least, he thought it was her, it had to be her.

Please, God let it be her, Dean begged.

The world had gone dark ever since he'd heard Y/N's scream of terror and pain outside that rundown shack. He’d run to where she was stationed, but she was already gone. A red pickup truck sped away down the dirt road. But Dean had managed to secure most of the license plate number.

With it, they managed to track the vamps to their new hideout, the barn. This time they took out the whole nest. While the others were questioning the last two vamps about Y/N's whereabouts, Dean had started looking around the space and found the dead woman and the decapitated vamp. The dead monster made hope surge in Dean, and he'd called to the others. They'd split up to search for her and Dean went North simply by instinct at first, because some sixth sense was drawing him in that direction.

But after a couple hundred yards, the trail began to become more obvious. Someone had barrelled through the thick brush surrounding the old barn, and they were no longer attempting to hide their steps. 

Almost a mile away from the barn, Dean stopped short. Just ahead of him he could hear what sounded like moans, like someone in pain.

No, not someone, Dean thought, terror licking through him. 

Y/N.

He moved forward in a rush and burst through the brush into a small clearing. His heart leapt with joy and relief as he saw Y/N sitting on a turned over log barely twenty-five feet away. 

She was alive.

But as he ran towards her she jumped up and tripped over the log as she scrambled away from him.

“Y/N!” Dean called to her, but she screamed back at him.

“No, stay away from me.”

Dean frowned at her but kept walking forward. “Sweetheart, what are y-”

Y/N folded her arms against her middle and groaned again, just as sharp fangs descended. Her beautiful features twisted in a snarl as she stumbled backwards again.

Dean stopped dead, staring, unbelieving, shaking his head in denial. He felt frozen to the ground as he looked at the truth standing right in front of him. He felt his world fall away as he stared at the monster who used to be Y/N - the girl he'd known his whole life, his best friend, his rival, his perfect other half. 

And now she was lost to him. A monster.

She fell to her knees and shook her head, holding her hand out towards him, warding him off, warning him to stay back. In the bright light of the full moon and the distant glow of city lights, Dean watched her fangs retreat and tears roll down her cheeks. He approached her cautiously, somehow unable to stay back. 

She looked up at him and her beautiful eyes were stained, the whites of them pooled with blood. 

“Dean.” she croaked as she continued to shake her head at him. “Please stay away from me.” She begged. 

She nodded towards the machete that was strapped to his thigh. “Please? Just end me before I hurt someone.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “I don't want to…” Her eyes pleaded with him. “I don't wanna hurt you, or anyone.” 

Her face spasmed with pain. “But I can't…I know I can't control this for much longer. Please, help me. I don't want to kill someone.” 

Her voice was cracked and broken and suddenly Dean saw that little girl again, the one who begged him not to kill the frog, begged him to help her save it. Because she couldn't stand the thought of hurting something helpless.

That little girl could never be a monster, and he knew she still had to be in there somewhere.

He found himself shaking his head. “No, Y/N, I won’t…” He couldn't even say the words. He cleared his throat “I'm gonna save you.”

Y/N looked at him like he was insane. “Save me? There's no way to save me. There's no fixing this. I'm a monster, Dean! I can feel the bloodlust in my head, it makes everything foggy. I can hear your heart pumping and I want -” She cut herself off and closed her eyes. “Please.” She whispered again, begging him to end her life.

But instead he got down on his knees in front of her and took a deep breath. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared as he drew closer to her. 

“You won't hurt me, Y/N.” 

“Dean!” Y/N shouted. But he shook his head.

“No, I'm right about this.” He declared, using his old playground trick of challenging her to get a rise out of her and force her into what he wanted. It seemed to work at least a little because some of the despair in her bloodshot eyes turned to annoyance.

He shook his head. “I refuse to believe there isn't a cure out there somewhere, or at least, someway to help you live with it.”

Y/N laughed humorlessly, exasperated. “Like a twelve step program for vampires? ‘God grant me the serenity not to rip open a vein.’?”

Dean grinned at her gallows humor. “Yeah, something like that.”

He looked over his shoulder and when he looked back his face was serious. “But look, I don't know how my Dad, or maybe even your Dad are gonna feel about this idea. I mean, they're so hardcore about hunting, about what’s a monster and what’s human. I don't know if I could convince them what I say is true, that I can save you.”

Y/N frowned at him and fear clouded her expression again. “You absolutely don't know it’s true! You are risking your life every second you're near me.”

Dean raised his hand slowly to her cheek and watched her swallow convulsively. “You're worth the risk, sweetheart.”

Tears filled Y/N's eyes again at the familiar endearment. She brushed away the tears and then took his hand from her cheek and held it. 

“Does this mean you forgive me?” She asked, looking up at him with a wavering smile. 

Dean grinned at her. “I don't know, does this mean you're apologizing?”

Y/N gave a watery laugh. “Yes.”

They stared at each other for a moment, both struck with just how ridiculous their fight seemed in view of their current situation. 

“Well, don’t worry, you're forgiven completely.” Dean promised. “But back to my earlier point. I think we should take off for a while. We can let our dads and Sam know we're okay, but we'll just keep moving till we find an answer.”

Y/N nodded. “But, Dean. I feel so weak already. I don't know how long I'll be able to -” 

Dean shook his head. “We'll be fine.” He said, his voice unrelenting.

“Dean -” Y/N tried again, but Dean stood up and pulled her up with him.

“No, Y/N.” He stared into her eyes, his words pushing through the pounding in her skull and the throbbing in her veins for the first time since she'd awoken as a monster.

“I will not walk away from you, I will save you.” His jaw flexed. “Or die trying.”

Y/N felt her heart constrict because she knew him well enough to know he meant every word.

***

Two weeks later

Dean listened to Y/N’s rattling breaths and felt the chasm of darkness grow deeper inside him. She was laying on the floor of the old abandoned house they were squatting in, and her skin was so pallid and pale that she matched the gray dust around her.

She'd been getting weaker and weaker the longer she went without feeding. They’d hoped that animal blood might do the trick. But they'd tried pigeon blood and rat blood - Dean had even found and shot a coyote that had been knocking over trash cans down the road, hoping that bigger game might make a difference - but none of it worked. 

Y/N threw the blood up as fast as she choked it down. She cried about the animals that had died. “We're killing them for nothing.” She wheezed. “It's not working.” Her voice was scratchy, as though she hadn't had any liquid for days. 

They'd been on their own for nearly two weeks, and every day Y/N faded a little further. 

Over the course of the two weeks there had been a few close calls between them, when Y/N's hunger threatened to overtake all her other senses. But Dean had managed to subdue her long enough, until she came back to herself. When her conscience returned, she would always shake with fear at what she'd almost done and beg him to leave her there and run. She said it without hope because she knew he never would. 

But now, she was no threat to him at all. Dean looked down at her frail body, cheeks sunken, dark black circles bruising the skin below her eyes, and he knew he was losing her. 

He knew what he had to do. 

He sat beside her on the floor, his big hand holding her skinny fingers which he squeezed gently. 

“Y/N.” He called softly. “Y/N wake up.” 

Her eyelids lifted with what looked like a herculean effort. Her eyes were unfocused until Dean moved closer and looked down at her, his face hovering above her. Then she smiled at him as she dragged in more rattling breaths.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only garbled air came out. Dean shook his head and put a finger to her lips. “No, sweetheart, don't talk, just listen.” 

He ran a thick finger down the sunken hollow of her cheek. “If you don't feed, you're not gonna make it. Now, when I spoke to Sam last time, he said they had a lead on something that might be something. But that doesn't sound like a lot, and they can help you if you're…”

He shook the word out of his mind. “We just have to keep you well until they figure it out. So…”

He trailed off and then shrugged out of his jacket. He opened the buttons on his flannel, exposing a wide swath of his warm skin. 

“So feed.” He told her.

He watched her bloody, cloudy eyes widen and darken. She shook her head feebly, her breathing becoming loud and wheezing as she tried to sit up and back away from him.

But Dean caught hold of her easily and shifted her into his lap. He brushed her limp hair back off her forehead.

“Y/N, please listen to me. We just need something to keep you going. Please.” He said, his voice and expression begging her. “I trust you. Feed.”

He kissed her lips gently, and then leaned over her, kissing her neck and leaving his exposed and vulnerable. 

“Dean.” Y/N managed to put some sound into her voice and Dean pulled back to look at her. 

She sucked in a long labored breath. “You…promised.” She shook her head again. “Promised to…” 

She had to stop talking for a few moments, her eyes falling closed before she tried again.

“Promised to save me.”

Dean's face was desperate. “What do you think I'm doing?”

Y/N's head moved minutely from side to side. “Not.” She croaked. “Saving. Save me from…monster. No monster.”

Dean understood her and he felt tears burn his eyes. She wanted him to save her from becoming a monster. It was true that neither of them knew what would happen if she fed. Would she just get stronger, or would it sever her hold on her humanity?

There was no way of knowing, and she was begging him to save her from the possibility of a bad outcome. Dean wanted to yell at her, scream and fight with her over this as they always did when they disagreed. But he knew she had no fight left. 

So he just nodded at her and took solace in the peace that drifted over her exhausted face. He shifted so that she was laying with her head in his lap and traced his finger over the delicate bones in her face and collarbone. He spoke barely above a whisper.

“Okay, sweetheart. Sleep now.”

***

Twenty-two hours later

Dean jumped as someone pounded on the door. It was the most he'd moved in hours. He rose slowly from the ground as the pounding came again accompanied by Sam's voice.

“Dean! Y/N! It's me, open the door!”

Dean reached the door and slid the bolt free, letting Sam through. His little brother rushed past him. “Why haven't you been answering your phone?” Sam asked, and then barreled forward without waiting for an answer.

“We found it, we found a cure. Dad remembered hearing some obscure piece of lore saying you could cure a werewolf with the blood of the wolf that bit them and he figured maybe vamps had something similar. So after you guys took off that night, he went back to the barn and took the fang’s blood just in case. The one Y/N killed - figured it was our best bet.” He clarified.

Sam's excitement was blinding him to Dean's stillness and he rushed on. “So, we went down to New Orleans. You know they had a bit of a vampire problem in the French Quarter about a century ago, so we thought maybe they'd have-”

Suddenly Sam stopped talking, the momentum that brought him there finally deflating under the weight of the darkness in the air.

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Dean? Where's Y/N?”

Dean's jaw clenched and he gestured to the other room. “Too late.”

Sam's expression sank, the last bit of his youthful excitement crumbling at the words. He walked in the direction Dean pointed, freezing in the doorway when he saw Y/N's frail body laying on a dusty table.

“Didn't wanna leave her lying on the ground.” Dean said, his voice deep and thick with unshed tears. 

Sam wasn't as practiced at hiding his emotions, and tears fell down his cheeks as he watched Y/N's still, lifeless body and thought of the way her father had fallen further and further into a bottle as the days passed, hope slipping further from their grasp. 

John had sent Sam on ahead to Dean and Y/N so that he could go back and let Darren know that there was finally hope for his daughter. Now, they were going to have to crush that last spark of hope.

He was exceedingly glad he wouldn't have to be the one to do it.

He reached Y/N and grimaced at the emaciated creature that only vaguely reminded him of the girl who'd been his big sister for all intents and purposes.

When Dean came to stand beside him, Sam shook his head. “How, how did she die?” 

Dean looked at him angrily for a moment before he clipped out an answer. “Painfully.”

Silence reigned for a moment until Sam brushed away his tears and tilted his head. “But…” He didn't finish his thought, slightly intimidated by his much bigger brother's anger and frustration with his questions.

But his mind was working and he couldn't stop himself.

“But I mean, that's sort of the thing, isn't it?”

Dean scowled at him and Sam shrugged. “I just…I mean, vampires don't die. They can't.”

“Unless they're starving.” Dean growled out but Sam shook his head. 

“No, that's my point. I've done SO much research on vampires over the last couple weeks, and some of it is a bit conflicting, but the one thing that every one of them agreed on was that the ONLY way to kill a vampire for good, for real, was to chop off their head.”

Dean was scowling at him. “What are you saying?” His voice was gruff, but Sam saw a spark of hope in his eye, and he prayed he wasn't giving his brother false hope. 

“I'm saying we found a couple hoodoo priestesses that gave up their cure for vampirism. I think we should make it and give it to Y/N.”

Dean's nostrils flared as he fought down his own burgeoning hope. “You really think some hoodoo cure is gonna bring her back from the dead?”

Sam shook his head and took off his backpack. He got down on his haunches and began pulling items out for the spell.

“But she's not dead.” He said adamantly and then amended his words cautiously. “At least. I don't think she is, cause her head is still on her shoulders. So, again, how did she die? Of starvation you said?”

Dean nodded down at Sam. “Yeah, she…she tried to drink animal blood but it wouldn't stay down.”

Sam shot him a worried look. “But she didn't drink any human blood, did she? Like even a drop?”

Dean shook his head. “No, that's why she died. I tried to get her to drink from me, but she wouldn't.”

Sam sighed with relief. “Thank God she's smarter than you are.”

Dean scowled at him, but Sam ignored it. “The spell only works on newbie vamps, and only if they haven't ingested any human blood.”

As he finished up mixing the ingredients for the cure, he explained what he was thinking. “So, if vamps can't die of starvation, then…I think she's desiccated. I read about it in only one account. This one big bad vamp in New Orleans, they couldn't stop him, so they trapped him and when he couldn't get any food, he desiccated and basically fell into a vampire coma.”

He stood up with a jar in his hands that contained a foul smelling liquid. He handed it to Dean and reached into his backpack to pull out a tin that held a syringe full of blood. 

He pushed the plunger and emptied it into the drink.

“So I think,” he continued, “that when Y/N couldn't get blood she desiccated. But see if we give her the cure she won't be a vampire anymore. So the lack of human blood in her system shouldn't matter.”

Dean frowned. “But what if, because she wasn't fully a vampire, what if she didn't just wither into a hundred year slumber? What if she really is.. just…”

Sam but his lip. “Well, we won’t know till we try to give her the cure and see.” He said with a shrug in his voice.

Dean nodded and accepted his little brother's reasoning.

He moved towards Y/N and said a prayer to a god he didn't believe in that this would work. He’d been denying the alternative for nearly a day, desperate to believe it wasn’t true. This was their chance to make it not true.

Sam lifted Y/N's shoulders so that she was sitting up, and opened her slack jaw while Dean poured the concoction down her throat. Some of it spilled out, but most of it sank slowly down her esophagus.

When the jar was empty, they laid Y/N down and held their breath.

Dean unclenched his jaw long enough to ask, “Those witches give you any idea how long -”

His words were cut off as Y/N's eyes popped open and she gasped for air like a fish on dry land just before she turned her head and began vomiting black liquid. 

Dean felt a horrible mixture of elation and terror as Y/N continued to spew up black bile.

Finally she dry-heaved a few times more and then fell forward. She would have fallen to the ground if not for Dean, who swept her off the table and into his arms. 

He held her close, hardly daring to breathe for fear that he'd break the bubble of surrealty that he found himself in. Could this nightmare really be over? Did he have Y/N back in his arms for good. 

The pessimist in him was shouting warnings at him not to risk it, but he wasn't listening very well. Hope bubbled up in him as he watched her breathing even out 

Finally, her eyes fluttered beneath her closed lids for a moment before they opened slowly. 

“Dean?” She asked groggily. “What's…?” Her voice faded as she looked around, clearly confused.

Dean set her back on the table so that he could push the hair back from her face. His voice was hesitant. “Y/N? Are you…okay?”

She turned her head and saw Sam looking at her expectantly as well. Her brow stayed crinkled for a moment more until understanding began to dawn on her face. Tears filled her eyes, and even though they were still slightly bloodshot, Dean could practically see the color returning to her cheeks, her skin losing its thin, papery look. 

He began to feel the ache in his chest ease as he tucked Y/N's hair behind her ear. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Her smile spread across her face and her voice was filled with the same relief and joy Dean could feel seeping through him as she answered. 

“I feel like me.”

***

The next few days were a bit rough for Y/N as the cure continued to work through her system, but they were also some of the happiest in her life. 

She’d returned to their motel and to her father’s waiting, grateful arms. The group of them celebrated her rescue and return, and the incredible tool they now had to help save vamp victims if they could get to them in time. 

For the first day or so, her father didn’t let her go very far out of his sight. But eventually, he eased off, and allowed that she was an adult and had a right to some space and privacy. So finally, four days after waking from her vampiric coma, she and Dean were able to sneak out alone. Their fathers were going to meet with another hunter about a shifter one state over, and Sam was quite glad to get the lovebirds away from him for an evening. Their pining, long looks, and frequent touching was driving him crazy.

Dean and Y/N hopped into the Impala and drove and sang together with the radio for hours. They talked and talked about absolutely nothing important, old favorite movies, and people they used to know from their hundred different hometowns. It was light and easy, and beautiful after weeks of pain, heartache and fear. 

Hours later they once again found themselves parked (on the side of an old abandoned back road this time) and cuddled up beside each other in the back seat.

Rain had begun to fall, soft but steady, beating a soothing pattern on the roof. The radio still played low from the front, and Y/N gasped when she realized that Dean had slipped in the mixed tape she’d made for their anniversary more than a month earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“You kept this.” She said, smiling up at him. “I thought you hated these songs.”

Dean shrugged. “I hate them less when I’ve got you tucked up against me like this.”

Y/N reached up to pull his lips down to her. She kissed him softly and then pulled away. She lowered her gaze. “Dean, I really do owe you an apology for how I acted before.”

Dean was shaking his head, but she put a finger to his lips. “Please let me finish.” He fell silent and she continued. 

“I get a little crazy when it comes to you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed - I hide it very well.” She said with mock seriousness. 

Dean nodded along. “Of course.” 

Y/N smiled and looked down at her hands twisted in her lap. “It’s just…all my life it’s been…chaos. Different towns, different schools, different kids, different teachers, different rules, different cliques, different everything. Over and over, nothing but new…new and scary.”

Dean nodded again, knowing it was true. 

Y/N smiled sheepishly. “But through all of it, through everything new, everything different, everything scary, there was always you. You, there to piss me off and rile me up, you to challenge and push me, to defend me, to break a nose or take the fall for me. In my whole life the only constant is you. It took me a long time to realize it, but Dean,” she looked deep into his eyes, “you are everything to me.”

Tears filled her eyes. “And the truth is you’ve saved me over and over, my whole life. Yeah okay, I mean now you’ve actually offered up your very life for me, but you’ve been saving me every day, all our lives.”

Dean’s eyes were moist as she continued. “So, the thought of losing you to someone else, of losing all you are to me…” She shook her head. “It’s terrifying.” 

Dean grasped her cheeks and turned her face up so he could kiss her, not softly, not gently. His kiss was all consuming, it was hard and possessive. He pulled away from her and she could barely catch her breath.

His voice was raspy as he spoke against her lips. “You’re an idiot.”

She spluttered a bit and scowled at him, but he just smiled. 

“Sweetheart, you say it took you a long time to realize all of that? Okay. But I’ve known since first grade. I’ve known since the second our dads met up at that park to talk about a Rugaru and I saw you on the swingset. You were wearing a rainbow t-shirt and purple overalls, and your hair swirled around you while you were swinging. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Y/N laughed happy tears. “You remember what I was wearing?”

Dean brushed them away. “I think of you every time I see a rainbow.”

Y/N could barely believe what she was hearing. Dean shook his head as though it had been so obvious. “Sweetheart, I’ve loved you every day of our lives together. Even when I didn’t like you, I loved you.”

Y/N hiccupped a sob and threw her arms around Dean’s neck. He put his hand on her back and pulled her onto his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and spoke against her skin. 

“So as long as you want me here, I’m here. As long as I can be yours, you’ve got me.”

She pulled back from him and sniffled. “So…you were lying then? You weren’t sleeping with a bunch of other girls all the time we were broken up?”

Dean shook his head. “Of course not.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “No one else is you, Y/N.”

She kissed him again, her tears mingling with their panting breath. She straddled his thighs and then lifted her t-shirt up over her head. Dean made a choked sound in the back of his throat. He pressed his hands to her waist and kneaded his fingers into her lower back.

“Y/N,” Dean began but she kissed him again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore Dean.” She said as she pulled away. “I know everything I need to know about your past.” She pushed her hands into his hair and tugged his head back slightly so his face was turned up towards her, his mouth open and reaching for her. 

She brushed her lips over his. “You’ve loved me your whole life.”

He grunted as he twisted their bodies so that she landed on the seat with a squeak, pinned beneath his weight. “I didn’t say my WHOLE life. There were like six years there where I didn’t even know you existed.” 

Y/N giggled. “You mean the six years you were alive before we met?”

Dean grinned. “Exactly. I was free as a bird then.”

He laid his hands against the leather on either side of her shoulders and pushed himself up. One knee was sunk into the seat between her legs and the other rested on the floor as he pulled his shirt up and off. 

She reached up and ran her fingers over his smooth, broad chest and down over his stomach. He watched her, a muscle squeezing tight in his jaw, before he took her hands and wrapped them around his neck so he could stretch out above her again. 

She looked into his bright green eyes, shining like emeralds and got lost in them. She picked up their conversation as though they’d never stopped talking, but her voice was breathy and heated. “And you’re gonna love me for the rest of your life, right?”

Dean nodded. “Every day.”

“K, good.” She said, her eyes welling up again. “Me too, by the way. I mean, just in case you were wondering - I love you too.”

Dean’s face lit up but he just nodded and shrugged one shoulder. “Of course I know, I’m smart like that.” He kissed her hard and quick. “But let’s not forget who said it first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl @slamminmine

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

[rise-my-angel]

Hello! I hope you're doing well. I just wanted to say that your takes on the Targaryens are so refreshing to find when this fandom is almost completely made up of people who think they're the supreme, divine saviours of humanity and the greatest thing since sliced bread. It feels nice and validating to see someone who thinks like me for once. <3

Nothing bothers me more then propping them up as divine or special, when their entire story is about how they think they are special in contrast to the devastating effects of who they are on the people.

I don't think it's a coincidence that in Westeros we get so many different pov's to showcase all sides of how the war effects everyone everywhere, no matter how justified you may think one side or the other is. We see its devestating and it reminds us that their wars arent actually worth the cost. But in Essos, we do not see that. We only ever get Dany's pov and her view of her own actions, and we never see those minute details from every walk of life showcasing how no matter how justified she thinks she is, she has damaged more then shes saved. And I think it's a clever trap so that when she comes to Westeros, you finally see her from someone elses eyes and its a wakeup call that you've been tricked by her pov into thinking that shes better then she is. It's fascinating the way hes structured her story.

But people miss that, and subsequently, they miss that about all the Targaryeans. So they see them, as Dany sees herself. More superior then they really are. Which is not at all.

The Targaryeans aren't special. Their Valyrian blood is not what makes them dragonriders, they just have a monopoly on it because by the doom they were the only family who owned them or had any information about dragons. Its not a stretch to say when your family comes from a culture that is surrounded by dragons, you probably are just better equipped to ride one then someone whose never even seen one before. (Unless your Nettles then you are the literal example of why Targaryeans are not special and I love how grrm uses her to contrast that so strongly).

They alone are not holding the Kingdom together, as they caused many civil wars and rebellions, and their dynasty ended in a rebellion, which was followed by decades of peace. Say what you will about Robert, but he wasn't so stupid as to blatantly start a war from his bloodlust all over again. He wasn't a good man, but he took the throne by conquest during rebellion times, and no violence ever happened until after he was dead, and that wasnt caused by his fault, it was started by Cersei via having a bastard with Jaime and not Robert. So the war that followed wasn't his wrongdoing. He held peace and the realm together, so clearly the Targaryeans weren't needed for that specifically.

They don't even look unique. In Essos, tons of places still have mixes of Valyrian blood and thus have their silver hair. House Dayne is known to have purple eyes just like them, but they aren't Valyrian, their ancestry is from The First Men.

The biggest tragedy is House of the Dragon, because Fire and Blood is such a good deconstruction of the myth around House Targaryeans supermecy. Writing it in character as an Archmaester during Robert Baratheons reign is so interesting. It gives us such a unique look into how the world actually remembers them.

And its a book full of atrocities and horrible action after horrible action. War after war after war. People remember the Targaryeans as the initally conquested Westerosi did, as nothing more then uncaring, power hungry colonizers. But people don't look at them that way out of universe, and they should. Theres no reason to discount the negatives about them.

But House of the Dragon didn't adapt that book, so general audiences are getting a very different story that bolsters that supremacist view of the Targaryeans and it really does not paint them in the complex light they should be.

Not every Targaryean was a bad person, but House Targaryean was a house full of bad people. Bad people who raised and married each other into a system of brutal generational incest and abuse, and neglected the very Kingdom they routinely torn apart in order to fight for who gets to sit on the Iron Throne and ignore it more.

I like discussing the flaws of the Targaryeans because I find their toxic, destructive nature to be interesting. Especially in comparison to the such a stable family like the Starks.

They are a cautionary tale as to why the Starks reign lasted 8000 years, and the Targaryeans lasted only 300.

[deckofaces]

Choose: Love or Heartbreak

(A Secret Santa Snippet)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Once again this year I chose to participate in Secret Santa snippet exchange! This year I coincidentally got my girlfriend @justalittletoocorrupted! I really hope you like it <333

Prompt: Villain x Hero (who is a sidekick to superhero!) and Superhero finds out Hero was dating Villain (or just fell in love with them) and kidnaps them to try and help them understand that's a bad thing and the Villain could save them!

(I ended up doing more villain x civilian (I checked if it would be okay))

Note! As we are really close I decided to use ocs, this is an au where Dystopia from Dystopian Reflections is a civilian, via the name Cain. Vortex/Blank-Slate is @justalittletoocorrupted’s oc and it uses it/its and he/him pronouns

Tw: kidnapping, arguing, mentions of violence, swearing

“Cain Harlow.”

Cain’s head was foggy. He blinked a couple times, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He glanced down at his hands, silvery looking threads were slowly unwrapping from his wrists and making their way back to their creator. His eyes followed and they made their way back to a woman, a superhero more specifically. 

Looking around, the room almost appeared to be an interrogation room. He was not cuffed, but he sat in a closed room at a table across from the hero. 

Nothing was making sense, he last remembered being at the grocery store! He was just shopping! His boyfriend and him were going to have a nice dinner that night and he went to get a few things they would need.. he has no memory of leaving there and ending up with this superhero in front of him!

“…Who are you?”

“The media refers to me as the Porcelain Woman,” the superhero replied simply. 

That makes sense he supposed until suddenly the name clicked in his head and Cain realized exactly who she was. And the alias quickly seemed obvious too. Looking at her, she didn’t look like a normal person, well, because she wasn’t. Her body appeared very doll-like with long, curly black hair and perfect makeup. All exemplified by the apparent cracks across her face, just like what can happen to porcelain.

However, even though she looked like a doll, she wasn’t one. He’s heard his fair share of news stories criticizing her for being a hero. And that is the result of many considering her less than human. She is a powerful spirit inhabiting the life size doll. But the spirit, or a “Reflector,” is a reflection of a real life person, given their name. They are typically chaotic entities. …Not heroes. But he shouldn’t make assumptions about their character..

…But it explains how he got there. From what he’s heard, she has some form of mind control ability in the form of a literal puppet on strings. The doll shell she uses is apparently quite fitting. His face morphed into disgust at the thought of how he got there. 

Cain took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

She stared at him for a few seconds before answering. Her fake, glassy, and yellow eyes were a bit unnerving. “You should know why you are here, do you not?”

Ah.

He could only be there for one reason, and if a superhero of all people is involved, he definitely knew. But he also wasn’t foolish enough to give himself away without her stating why he’s there first. “I’m afraid I do not understand why I am here. Considering I was taken out of a grocery store, pardon my confusion on the matter.”

The Porcelain Woman drummed her fingers on the table. “It was necessary at the time, it was for your safety,” she stated, brushing off his comment. “You’re here, Mr. Harlow, because of your boyfriend. Are you aware that your partner goes by the alias of Blank-Slate?”

There it is. 

“I do not see why that matters,” Cain answered, trying his hardest to keep his face schooled into a neutral expression.

She stared again, almost as if in surprise. “Your boyfriend has hurt and killed many people, have you no remorse for them, their families, or future victims? It is not a good thing for you to be dating it. Does it not hurt knowing its career and choices?” 

He let out a sigh. He knows what Vortex does is wrong, horrible even, but it has never made him feel unsafe.. rather it has made him feel so loved and cared for. Maybe it’s selfish that that is all he cared to think about in this situation but he didn’t care. And it likely makes him a horrible person too, but if it ever asked him to join it in what it does, he’s sure he’d say yes in a heartbeat..

“Blank-Slate treats me with much more love and care than anyone else ever has. What it does may not be considered right, but it has never subjected me to its lifestyle, rather it does its best to protect me from it,” Cain replied calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The Porcelain Woman scoffed at his comment. “Do you really believe it loves you? It is a villain, Mr. Harlow, one that seeks to draw any sort of horrible reaction it can get out of someone. That means it will eventually revel in the heartbreak it will inevitably cause you.”

Cain shook his head. “You do not understand the nature of our relationship. You believe that to be true when in reality I am an exception to that idea.”

“No, you are failing to understand. I want to help you, this agency wants to help you. Being in that relationship is only going to bring you a lot of pain. We want to help you and stop that from happening. Loving Blank-Slate will hurt you. It is not someone you should love.” Her tone held a bit of concern, but for him it was difficult to distinguish if it was genuine or fake. 

Despite that, this situation was ridiculous, he wanted to go home! He spun a ring on his finger that Vortex gave him to try and calm himself and his anxieties. He hoped to get out of there soon, or maybe Vortex already realized he hadn't come home when he said he would…

Cain supposed he could understand some of her points, he knew it enjoys getting a reaction out of people, but that’s not how it is in regards to him. The amount of times it has seen him vulnerable and treated him with so much love and compassion and respect.. The amount of times he’s seen it so vulnerable.. if it wanted to hurt him, it would have done so many months ago. He’s never loved anyone quite like Vortex and this superhero will not sway him from that. 

“I get what you are trying to convey, but I do not want help from you or your agency. Rather, I wish you would have let me just go about my day,” he said more firmly. He was tired of being there now. He hasn’t been there very long, but being in that room quickly aggravated him. Everything just was wrong about this. 

“Mr. Harlow,” the superhero interjected, “your safety is at risk here! I am merely trying to offer you a way out of your situation but you are only showing me disrespect for my efforts!”

Cain gritted his teeth before raising his voice. Not only was this aggravating, but he was also talking to a wall. How lovely. “That is because you fail to show me respect! I do not want your efforts!! Let me spell it out, I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Help.” He sucked in a breath before trying to continue, his voice returning to a normal volume. “I’ll get ‘hurt’ in your words for all I damn care. It is not your responsibility to look after me.”

“I understand that it’s not my responsibility, but I don’t want you to be added to its list of victims! Blank-Slate-“

“Blank-Slate,” Cain snapped, “Is the love of my life whether you like it or not. Quite frankly, it has treated me far better than you have, and I have only known you for less than a day.”

“You don’t make it easy to get into contact with you,” The Porcelain Woman sneered. “Your career as a doctor makes you busy and most other times you are spotted with the villain. Bringing you here today in the way I had may have been unethical, but I had no choice. You were free and it was the only opportunity I had to get you here. If you would hear me out, you would understand it was for the better!”

“Oh so you and your band of heroes have been keeping tabs on me? You can’t, you know, send me an email or message that your heroes need to talk to me? You resorted to kidnapping me?” Cain threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’m going to repeat myself one more time, leave me alone. I am happy with my boyfriend. I do not care about your concerns about my supposed safety.”

“That was only a result of trying to keep tabs on Blank-Slate, which is actually incredibly difficult to do. We only very recently discovered you are its partner,” she retorted.

Cain has had enough of all of this. There seemed to be no convincing this woman that he feels safe and loved in his relationship. And really it should be none of her business at all! She’s entirely convinced that Vortex will just suddenly start hurting him one day just because it can. They’ve been dating for quite awhile and it hasn’t done so. 

And what’s more, he’s been able to see a side of Vortex that it doesn’t show anyone else. To others it very easily can seem cruel! But to him it has only ever been caring and affectionate and so so loving. But even when he has accidentally caught it doing its villain work, he can’t help but be a bit fascinated by it. And strangely enough, after seeing what it does and seeing it hasn’t done anything to him, it only has made him feel more safe and secure in their relationship.

Cain stood up from his chair. “I appreciate you trying to ‘warn me’ about my boyfriend, but I really do not need your assistance and I would like to get going home.” 

“Please sit, we are not done talking, Mr. Harlow. Going back to your boyfriend would be a bad idea,” the hero advised, her glassy eyes watching him stand.

“No, ma’am, I am heading home. Excuse me,” he said while trying to move past her to the door. 

“We aren’t done,” she stated, more harshly this time. Silvery threads shot from her hands towards his legs. He yelled a curse before quickly stumbling backwards, narrowly avoiding them. 

“Are you fucking delusional??” Cain cried out. “I acknowledge why you may be upset with my decision but that is unacceptable! For a hero especially! Contrary to what you think, my love for Blank-Slate will not lead to something completely horrific!”

“I’m not allowed to let you walk out so easily. I apologize that you don’t get it, but Blank-Slate is incredibly dangerous. I need you to stay awhile longer, I wasn’t even close to finishing on this matter.” 

Throughout this whole argument, the woman’s face has been just about completely neutral the entire time minus her tone, and it honestly was becoming infuriating. In the right state of mind he would realize that her being so doll-like didn’t allow for a great range of physical emotion, but in the moment it only ticked him off more. To him it only seemed like she concerned herself with breaking the two apart rather than how he felt. 

“No no! I’m done with this!” Cain argued, “You keep talking about me hearing you out but you have not been listening to me. You kidnapped me to talk to me, then you started preaching about how my boyfriend’s and I’s love is invalid, and then you refuse to let me leave!”

“Mr. Harlow—“

A knock sounded at the door. 

They both fell silent and turned to look at the sound. The Porcelain Woman answered the door, only to find another superhero he’s never seen before on the other side. 

“Mr. Harlow is needed by another hero for questioning, it is required that this continues later,” the stranger at the door said to the superhero.

“Fine, bring him back as soon as they are done.” She shot a glare over to Cain, but stepped out of the way to let him pass.

A wave of relief washed over him to finally get away from her as he stepped past her next to the stranger. He didn’t know where he was going but hopefully it would be better. If it entailed questioning, maybe not.. but here’s to hoping.

The two walked through the corridors of the unfamiliar agency. After a minute or two, the stranger spoke to him. And as soon as he did, it practically made him want to fall into its arms on the spot. 

Ensuring no one was around, the stranger shifted into a different person, returning to the form of his boyfriend. Telepathically it spoke gently to him, “Are you okay baby..? I’m going to get you out of here, just play along and act as if I’m one of the heroes.”

“I’m okay..” Cain mumbled, watching as Vortex shapeshifted back into the hero, “Thank you for finding me.”

It telepathically reassured him that it would always find him. It noticed that he never came home on time and wasn’t answering any of its messages alerting it that something was wrong.

Being fully disguised as a hero, Vortex escorted Cain safely out of the building without alarm. The pair headed home where they could have a relaxing evening like they originally had planned. 

[sforzie]

I woke up and my brain chose violence Raphael. So have some unedited Tav/Raphael words.

(Female tiefling Tav and Raphael. SFW at present.)

____

“I want to make a deal with you,” she says. Raphael peers down at her, curiosity piqued by the serious look in her luminous blue eyes. The adventurer’s look is so serious that he can already start picking out the words for her contract in his mind.

“Go on, little mouse. Tell me your desire.”

“Make me your queen. I wish for the power of the Hells, to kneel at your feet and serve. To smite your enemies and warm your bed.”

Surely she must be messing with him. Either that or he has dozed off and this is naught but some fantasy playing out in his weary mind.

“Why would you wish for such a thing?”

A smirk plays on her lips, and he is aware of the long line of her gray tail curling behind her, like that of a cat excited to see its prey. That’s not how it works, is it? He is the cat, and she is naught but the mortal little mouse that is willingly standing within striking distance of his claws.

“A means to an end. They always said I was too ambitious for my own good.” She twists a length of her hair around her fingers in a coy motion that is definitely a practiced act, and looking at her long, sharp, black nails he cannot help but think this mouse already has claws of its own.

While he ponders his response, she continues: “That is what you deal in, yes? Means to ends? Someone gets what they want, and you get what you want from them–a soul, a bauble, a bit of power and influence. You don’t do anything without being certain that you will profit from it.”

“Clever little mouse,” he murmurs. “Though I would hardly call the Crown of Karsus a bauble.”

She shrugs, a delicate, precise movement.

“You have already given me that which I have craved and sought for centuries, in exchange for the ability to save your little world. That transaction is complete. Why do you think I would consider another contract, another deal? What could you possibly have to offer that might interest me?”

The smirk lingers again. She already looks the part of an infernal queen, he thinks, thanks to her tiefling nature. Her horns curve long and black and elegant from her brow, her poise is confident despite standing in the presence of a cambion–indeed, for all the world she has the swagger of a wingless fiend. He can feel the heat of the Hells infused in her blood, as surely as his own. She is confident in her belief that he will take her offer.

Raphael is tempted, even without hearing her counteroffer.

Again, he asks: “What would I get in return for the twisted power that you crave?”

“Me.”

He frowns, hoping to mask the little excited thrill that shoots its way down his chest and straight south past his abdomen.

“You are the hero of Baldur’s Gate, of the Sword Coast. You can already have everything you want there. Why ask to serve me, instead?”

“Perhaps the tadpole left too many holes in my head,” she says, coy once more. “Or perhaps I simply know what I want. What I have wanted since you first interrupted my travels.” The points of her nails dance feather light over the line of his jaw. Raphael sneers for show.

“And, what makes you think I would even consider your request? What makes you think that it would hold even the slightest interest to one such as I? You have already given me the Crown; I have no further need for you.”

She whispers: “Because you are a lonely man, Raphael. You will soon find that it is only lonelier at the top, no matter how much you love yourself.”

He wants to step away, to move away from the range of her stare, but he does not desire to concede any ground to her. Instead he presses a palm to her shoulder and gives her a relatively gentle shove away. Her look is unchanged, unperturbed by his action.

“I am a busy man, little mouse. Soon to be busier, thanks to my acquisition of the Crown. I will have to put your offer on the back burner until I have time to give it some proper consideration.”

“I would not wait too terribly long, Raphael. You know how fickle a woman���s heart can be.”

He swallows, thinking. The hero of Baldur’s Gate could be a valuable asset to have as he works to unite the Hells–and perhaps beyond. Better perhaps to make an ally of her now, then have to worry about her stirring up trouble later. Still, he is uncertain.

He does not like this uncertainty.

“You do not even entirely know what you ask for,” he says. “You wish to be the lady of a house you do not know.” Raphael produces a golden key with obsidian teeth and holds it out in his palm. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“A key, obviously. Do not be a simpleton.” He sneers at her. “This key will turn any door you use it on into a temporary portal to the House of Hope. The portal will accept only you as its guest, and the key will incinerate the hand of anyone else who tries to touch it.”

She peers at the key. “And, what is the catch?”

“No catch. You may use it to acquaint yourself with the House, to see if it is truly where you wish to spend eternity. Should you change your mind, you need only return the key to me, and this talk of contracts will be off. No strings, no catch.”

After another long moment of consideration, she takes the key from his hand.

“Suit yourself.”

Nearly a moon cycles past before she uses the key.

Raphael is lounging on his bed, relaxing after a foray into one of the other Hells, when he becomes aware of the key being used. He is aware of the portal from Baldur’s Gate admitting her into the House of Hope’s portal room.

He does not get up to greet her, nor does he make any immediate move to see what she is up to. Raphael continues to idle in bed, wondering how long it will be before the portal marks her departure.

He dozes off.

“Your guest is still awaiting your attention, Master,” Haarlep notes when Raphael wakes from his nap.

“She did not leave?”

“Nay. I believe she is in the Archives. Has been for a few hours.”

He frowns. What could she possibly be doing in there? Searching for some relic to pocket? Looking for mischief to cause, as adventurers are ever wont?

Raphael dresses and makes his way unhurriedly to the Archives.

He is not sure exactly what he is expecting when he arrives–chaos, the Archivist in pieces, perhaps–but it is certainly not what he finds.

She is seated at a small table. The Archivist sits in the adjacent chair, and is talking with quiet animation as he gestures at a scroll that is unwound across the table top and onto the floor.

“What are you doing here, little mouse?” he barks across the room. The Archivist jolts in his seat and scrambles to his feet, offering a bow to the master of the house. She does not move from her seat.

“Learning all your secrets, of course,” is her flippant reply. Raphael scowls.

“I did not give you the key so that you might–”

“M-Master, pardon my interruption, but the Lady was not causing any trouble,” the Archivist cuts in. He resists the urge to reduce the man to cinders–he is too useful–and settles instead for impaling him with a glare.

“What then?”

“Your Archivist was merely indulging my curiosity,” she says. “He clearly puts in a great deal of work for you, making sure that every object in your impressive collection is properly cataloged and registered and accounted for in the proper legalese.”

“You made your way to the House of Hope and just…” Raphael gestures at the scroll, hoping that his tone is not too marred by incredulity. “Looked at paperwork?”

She gives a disinterested shrug. “Haarlep said you were taking a nap and not to be disturbed.”

“You spoke with Haarlep?”

She nods.

“And they didn’t try to fuck you?”

There is something undeniably charming to the way her eyes squint when she laughs. “Oh, they did. Said that they could give me something to help ‘fill my time’ while waiting for you.”

Haarlep hadn’t seemed any more smug than usual when he had roused from his dreamless slumber, so Raphael took that as meaning they hadn’t had any success with his guest.

“I told them that if I wanted to fuck someone who looked like you, I would wait to do the real thing.” She chuckles. “They told me good luck. You only like to fuck yourself.”

He makes a mental note to smite the incubus later. “Shall I take that to mean that you’ve no interest in me carnally?”

She shrugs.

Raphael doesn’t know what to do with the woman. She has already charmed his arguably broody Archivist and turned down Haarlep, all whilst he was peacefully taking a nap.

“Well,” he says, supposing that he should be the proper gentleman of the house. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, dear mouse. Might I offer you a tour? A drink? A virgin sacrifice?”

Her lips slowly pull into a smile. “Tea would be a lovely start.”

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 5.01

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story! I'm feeling a little sad but looking forward to writing the final season of the chaotic love story between Astra and 10k💕

You swing the hammer in your hands fast, cracking the skull of the Z in front of you open, flinching as its blood splattered over you. Turning on your heels, you bury the claw into another Z’s eye socket before using the blade in your other hand to stab it in the side of the head.

“I give you mercy,” you say, wiping the blood off your face with the sleeve of your jumper before putting your hand flat against a tree. You lean against it and catch your breath.

Thinking the coast was clear, you’d split off from the rest of your group momentarily to go for a pee, but ended up being chased by the undead on your way back. As you walk up a hill in the direction the rest of your group is going, you spot Doc running with a brunette by his side towards them, then hear the familiar sound of gunshots as 10k and Sarge take out a handful of Z’s.

“What’s going on?”

“A Z just said ‘no’,” Murphy replies.

“What?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “A Z just said ‘no’ right before 10K shot him.”

“Right,” you snort, before leaning up and kissing 10k on the cheek. Dropping your backpack to the ground, you open it and rummage inside it before pulling out a bottle of water that you hand to the brunette Doc rescued, saying, “hey, I’m Astra.”

“Hi… Thank you,” she shyly accepts.

Since being unable to stop the black rainbow, the survivors of your group decided to head to Newmerica, and along the way, you helped anyone you came across. It was hard given the lack of water, food, and ammunition, but humanity needed to look after one another again, even strangers. It was the only way life in the new world would work. Maybe it was hope of a better life, but the sky seemed clearer, the grass was healthy and un-stained by blood and zombie guts, and the air was much fresher.

Once everyone had something to eat and drink, Doc declared it was time to move on before any more deaths came.

While heading back to the vehicle parked at the bottom of the hill, Murphy leans into you and says, “I don’t know about Granny; she doesn’t look so good. I swear to God I saw her cough up a hairball.”

He was right; the elderly woman who claimed her name was actually Granny looked as if she'd been sick for a long time. 10k and Doc saved her and her adult children from a horde of Z’s days prior, and initially you thought their sickly appearance was due to exhaustion, but now you weren’t convinced it was the only reason. You were worried Granny wouldn’t even make it to Newmerica. You whisper, “I think we should be ready to show mercy at any time.”

When a couple you rescued let out a deep, chesty cough behind you, Murphy looked back and waved to them. “How y’all doing back there?”

“We’re good,” the man replies. “She’s actually feeling better, and my stomach cramps have stopped.”

Murphy laughs cheerfully before turning to look straight ahead again. “If they weren’t talking, I’d swear they were Zs. What are they still living for, huh? I’d say just die already.”

“I say the same thing about you all the time.”

He glares at you, “brat.”

You laugh as Murphy walks faster to catch up with Doc, no doubt to argue about whether Warren is still alive again. The subject of their arguments caused knots to form in your stomach. You knew what it was like to have nobody believe you that someone you loved was still alive, but then again, you only experienced that with 10k because Murphy put you through it.

You step to the side to wait for 10k, who is at the back of the group making sure the dead don’t creep up, but as the others walk by, you do your best not to gag. Not only did the people you rescued look dead, but they also smelled like death.

—

Your eyes flicker between the road and the figure disappearing into the distance. Murphy had just split off from the rest of the group on his own to go search for Warren while the rest of you headed to New Mexico. Although you had a history with Murphy, you didn’t like that the group was getting smaller, plus you doubted he would survive long on his own.

“A few hundred more miles and we’ll be in Newmerica,” Doc says, railing everyone together. He stopped driving half an hour ago so everyone could stretch their legs.

Sarge stands beside you, mumbling to herself while looking between the different people. Suddenly she turns to you and says, “Oh shit, we’re a person down.”

You do a mental check of everyone that’s there and realize Granny is missing. “Hey Doc! We’ve lost one; Granny’s gone!”

Everyone splits off into pairs to try and find the elder women. Granny couldn’t have gotten far, but in her confused state, she could have been a danger to herself.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for 10k to find her. She was hunched over, eating brains from a rotting corpse. “That’s disgusting.”

When Granny’s son pulls her back, she claims to have no idea why she ate it. It scared you to see how zombie-like she was becoming. Doc quickly orders everyone to go back to the truck. You go to leave, but 10k grabs your hand and pulls you back slightly. “Do you think Granny is a cannibal?”

“Possibly, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it. They all seem so sick.”

“Do you think the black rain caused it?”

“God, I hope not; what if everyone in Newmerica is like that?”

He lets out a deep sigh and says, “We’ll figure it out.” 10k eyes soften as a smile plays on his lips. “Just think, once we are there, we can finally start to spend time together, just us, with no interruptions.”

“I can’t wait.” You press your lips against his, but pull away when you hear the sound of an engine being turned. “We better hurry before Doc sends a search party.”

Still holding your hand. 10k leads the way. Most married couples got to spend their first few weeks of marriage doing nothing but have sex, and it was growing increasingly frustrating how difficult it was for you to not even be able to spend ten minutes alone with 10k without being interrupted by the undead or someone in your group.

“Front or back?”

You squeeze his hand before letting go. “I’ll go in the back.”

You jump into the back of the truck beside Sarge; the tension between you is gradually getting less awkward. You sit with her facing the others while 10k gets in the front beside Doc.

“Alright, let’s go, kids!”

—

It made you nervous seeing how sickly everyone in the back looked aside from Sarge. The two of you kept glancing at each other, sharing a knowing look. The people you’d rescued all looked as if they were dying from some type of flu. You feared things would turn bad at any moment, and seeing the way Granny’s face began to twitch, you gripped your blade just in case she turned.

As Doc starts to pull over, you look around confused. He was pulling towards what looked like two men selling stuff at the side of the road from a camper van. Not exactly what you envisioned the new world would look like.

Feeling that something wasn’t right, you hang back by the truck as 10k, Doc, and Sarge go over to speak to them. Something didn’t seem right. You jump out of the truck and take a few steps forward, but turn back after hearing a grunting sound. You see Granny struggling to get out and offer her your hand to help her down, but she slaps your hand out of the way, jumps down, and runs towards Sarge.

“Brains!”

You get whiplash from looking back and forth between three different people who your group had taken in because they had turned nearly completely Z-like; they didn’t appear to be fully dead or alive.

When one of the men who was sitting by the stop point aims his gun at Granny, a young woman with short, slicked-back black hair appears and gently gets him to lower the gun. Her clothes were clean and fresh-looking; it was obvious she hadn’t been roughing it like the rest of you. She walks towards Granny, who was being restrained by 10K and Doc. She clicks her fingers to get the older woman’s attention and pops a black biscuit into Granny’s mouth, which turns her back to normal. Granny gives the woman a cuddle, then steps back to cuddle her son.

The woman looks at Doc and says, “How long has she been dead?”

“Dead? We just thought she was sick. She’s talking.”

“No, she’s dead. So are those two,” she says, pointing to the couple your group rescued. “They’re talkers.”

“How is that possible?”

“Since the black rain, people don’t just turn like before. Their bodies are dead, but their souls remain conscious. The dead don’t just walk—now they talk.”

Oh shit.

The mysterious woman hands more of the biscuits out to the half-dead people and explains that there are supposedly traces of brains and something else that prevents them from fully turning. You notice the similarities between the women and the figure of someone on the posters hanging up on the camper van.

“I’m George,” she says. “And this is my friend, Lieutenant Dante.”

Lieutenant Dante was most definitely already dead. Your group really messed up with the black rain; now the world has talking zombies.

“I’m Astra; this is 10k, Sarge, and Doc.”

“Sweet names. So what are you guys doing all the way down here? No offense, but you look as if you’ve been through hell.”

“We are looking for Newmerica.”

George tells you that Newmerica is just an idea that will hopefully become its own nation, and everyone, dead or alive, is welcome to vote. Dead or alive.

Doc shrugs and says, “Sign us up.”