#i felt like a vampire stepping out into the sun and catching fire

[savage-rhi]

Having a B3 overdose be like

[gretavanfleetposts]

Fire in the Water: Chapter Three

Summary: You had thought dating a vampire would be the most complicated thing you'd ever done. But as it turns out, becoming one is even more complicated. The boys are determined to make your transformation as smooth as possible while each fighting to maintain the relationships they once had and those they now lust for. Author's Note: As always, I'd like to thank the lovely @gretasmokerising and @earthlysorrows for basically everything Content Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, death and mentions of killing, descriptions of bites, talk of Jake using his gifts in a sexual setting, drinking, slight sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) Word Count: 6.9k

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You'd only been living with Josh for a week but you were already falling into routine. It certainly couldn't have been described as healthy but routine it had become. Josh would go out hunting just as the sun was setting. Jake would feed you, entertain you, and then send you off to bed. And then you'd wake with a freshly showered Josh right next to you, where he belonged, ready to show you a marathon of his favorite films from over the years or sort through endless photos looking for a particular one to showcase a certain hair phase he had gone through. He kept you busy, excited to show you more of his life. But all that routine meant you were sleeping less and less at night, always staying up a little later than you should have with Jake, and fighting through the day to be with Josh or Sam or Danny. You were hardly eating, too. It wasn't an easy thing to prioritize when your housemates had no need to step foot in the kitchen unless it was with the express purpose of feeding you.

It would catch up to you eventually, but for now, you were enjoying it. It felt good to be constantly surrounded by people, too, after being alone in a cold, damp house for so long. Although, your more recent housemates weren't all too big on privacy. That was the one downside of whom you now shared a living space with. There were no secrets. Sometimes they even knew your secrets before you did.

One of those not-so-secrets was currently peeking out from under your skirt where you sat in the passenger seat of Jake's car. He had insisted on taking you out to dinner instead of his usual cooking in. Said you were looking a little pale and the fresh air would be good for you. You knew the reason you were so pale and if you had to guess, Jake was privy to that secret as well.

"Do they hurt?"

You followed Jake's eyes to see where they met your thigh. One of the bites Josh had given you days earlier was looking angry and red in your skin, two perfect little puncture wounds, lightly bruised around the outside, that seemed to throb a little harder when you stared at them.

"They're healing," you remarked as you carefully pulled your skirt back down to cover the evidence from that night.

Josh had kept his word when he said you were never doing it again. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't think about that night constantly. It hadn't brought you the tie you'd wanted but it had ignited within you a greediness and determination to see that side of Josh again.

Jake shook his head as his eyes moved back to the road. "Kinky girl. You know, you shouldn't push him like that. I know he doesn't seem as dangerous as the rest of us but he is."

You wanted to roll your eyes at the lecture.

"What Josh and I do in the bedroom is really none of your business. Besides, it wasn't that bad."

"He was close to snapping, honey."

You replayed the night in your mind, the way Josh had turned into something so unlike him. And how much it had turned you on seeing that side of him, feeling like he craved you deeply.

"But he didn't, so please stop listening to us," you answered with an exasperated huff.

But Jake pressed. "Do you know why he didn't?"

"Because he can control himself better than he-"

"Because I made it to the top of the stairs in time," Jake cut you off.

The realization of what he was saying sunk in quickly like a stone weighing you down and you breathed out a timid, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Jake agreed. "Had to make my guests leave and humans are not very fast at putting their clothes back on."

You were suddenly embarrassed, only half-listening to what he was saying about his guests while you replayed the night, suddenly seeing those same images that had ignited your desire entirely differently.

Josh had almost killed you.

"I'm sorry, I thought he could control it." You mumbled out the apology feeling an intense shame creep into your body. Suddenly you wanted to hide from Jake even though you should have been thanking him for saving you.

Maybe it was silly to feel such staunch embarrassment at the entire thing but the facts were embarrassing. You had pushed Josh past his limits for a night of passion in hopes it would tie you to him and instead, he had almost killed you in the process. If nothing else, Jake probably thought you were an idiot.

"Josh hasn't had human blood in centuries. The kind of self-restraint it takes even when you have it every single day is astronomical. Control is a lot harder as a vampire than it is as a human, especially when it comes to blood." He kept his eyes on the road as he drove, saving you from whatever look he might have wanted to give you. “Probably should have told you that,” he added.

"No, no you're right,” you relented with a sigh, turning to stare out the window instead to watch rain droplets carve their way down the sleek glass of the window. “I shouldn't have pushed him. I just…I needed some reassurance."

"I don't think him accidentally killing you is what you're looking for," Jake joked lightly.

You could have done without it.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Okay, okay. Consider it dropped, but for what it's worth, I'm glad you got what you wanted. I felt how happy it made you. I mean, a lot of that was delirium, but still."

You didn’t dare turn to see the smile you could already hear in his voice. You weren’t entirely sure he wasn’t making fun of you either and you huffed out another sigh.

"God, vampires have no boundaries." You rubbed your temples with your thumb and forefinger hard. The sleepless nights, trying to stay awake with Josh at all hours, it was starting to catch up to you. Your recent blood loss hadn’t helped anything either. Who knew it took so long to recover.

"Hard to have privacy when everyone can either hear you, your thoughts, or your feelings. And your emotions and thoughts in particular are incredibly loud. Sam and I have actually sort of bonded over-"

"Alright, I get it,” you cut him off, “It's insanely easy to spy on me. Doesn't make it any less weird to do so."

He seemed amused by how annoyed you were, never one to take a hint and go easy on you when that annoyance showcased itself. And you’d heard one too many times how “loud” you were which was really just code for “everyone knows all of your business”. You didn’t care for it. Made the house feel so tiny sometimes.

"Ya know, apart from the whole you having sex with my brother thing, I quite like feeling what you're feeling."

You turned then to study his face. The side of it that you could see, anyway. He always had a slight smile resting on his lips that seemed either sweet or smug, never anything else. This one, though, was unreadable, and his eyes were unwavering out the front windshield as he drove. But he could feel your gaze on him, surely, as you tried to read his expression.

"How very kinky of you," was all you said.

You were met with a hearty laugh.

—

The restaurant was tucked into a quieter part of town, a few streets away from the hustle and bustle of more normal, human nightlife. This place though was quaint and quiet, old fairy lights marking the entrance with a few bulbs flickering or out entirely. The patio looked like it hadn’t been used in ages. The constant rain did tend to weather things faster. But the inside glowed in a warm orange, seeping through the small windows and casting little square spots of light onto the wet street out front. It looked like a haven, calling out to those caught in the cold and rain, beckoning them inside into a warm embrace.

A coat check attendant helped you out of your wool overcoat when you both stepped inside, leading you through the surprisingly empty restaurant toward a table tucked into the back by a wall covered in heavy curtains, large golden frames, and wax records pinned in place. It was an eclectic type of place that seemed to suit Jake well. You could imagine him bringing his many female companions there, although the thought of him bringing anyone else there was one you didn’t really love to dwell on.

“This place is way too fancy, Jake,” you scolded him lightly. A date night place, for sure. The candles and wine glasses already resting on the table didn’t help.

“Well, I wasn’t going to take you to a McDonald’s. What would Josh say?”

He gave you one of those pleased-with-himself grins as he sat opposite you and poured you some water from the carafe already sitting at the table.

“I lived off McDonald’s after my parents died. Ate nothing but fries and strawberry banana smoothies for about three months.”

“Oh, is that how long the grieving process took?”

It was funny how he could fit jokes into serious conversation so easily. It reminded you of your failed attempts at making Sam laugh, only his landed far better than yours ever did. Although, perhaps his gifts had something to do with that…

“It was less than that, I just really liked McDonald’s,” you shrugged and gave him a crooked smile as you met his eyes, amused and practically twinkling in the bath of golden glow surrounding him.

A waiter approached silently, turning on his heel when Jake gave him a wave of his hand. You watched the interaction curiously, the way Jake had barely even looked up at the tall man before motioning some silent instruction to him.

“Oh, I get it. You come here a lot.” With your women, you added silently.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, I’m quite the ladies man.” He gave you a shrug, putting on a face like it was no big deal despite the way his lips turned up at the corner, threatening to give him away.

The giggle it provoked from you was impossible to suppress.

“Nobody special?” you asked more genuinely this time. There had to have been someone. You imagined it was that very someone who had led him down his path of debauchery. Probably some heartache in there somewhere. That was usually how these things went.

And judging by the sudden shift in his demeanor that practically chilled the air between you, you were right.

“No one important.” He answered more stoically than you knew he was capable of.

"So they were special,” you pressed.

He made a show of rolling his eyes. “Yes, she was special, if you consider being incredibly evil special.”

"Evil? Like actually evil?"

You weren't fully ingrained in vampire culture yet, or supernatural culture at large; who knew how truthful he was being? It seemed like everything was a possibility now.

"No, actually she was a lot like you." His usual smirk wormed its way into his lips, barely touching his eyes.

You squinted back at him, unamused.

"Yes, actually evil," he admitted finally, begrudgingly. "Now stop asking questions."

There was more there, so much more, that you wanted to dig into. But for now, you simply pursed your lips and gave him a hmph as you let it drop for the moment to glance about the restaurant, dimly lit and barely full for the weekend that it was.

You could imagine Jake bringing a different woman there every night. He probably had some understanding with the waiters; they seemed to know him well. Did he order the same thing for every girl? What if they didn't like it? Were you just another one of them to him? One he couldn't sleep with, of course.

In the week you'd been living in the house alongside Josh and his brothers, you'd tried to quiet yourself, knowing you'd give yourself away in an instant if you let your thoughts run wild or let your body explode with emotions the way it sometimes wanted to. You'd been working on your more scandalous thoughts. And your anger which sometimes rose quickly. Lack of privacy and a house almost entirely full of boys would do that to you. And your jealousy. That one had been least expected of all. You were far more used to being angry. Grief had familiarized you. You were even very used to the scandalous thoughts that circled you whenever you caught Josh fresh out of the shower, fresh off a hunt, really anytime you saw him. But that damned jealousy. It came from a place deep inside of you that you didn't really understand and here you were, yet again, imagining yourself to be one of Jake's many one night stands who got not so much as a single ounce of his skin or his gifts. And it made you jealous.

You weren't certain he couldn't feel it. You'd been trying to keep yourself in check, for his and Sam's sake as well as yours, but you were far from being an expert. Luckily, before Jake had any time to call you out on it, as he usually did, the waiter arrived back at your table, this time with bowl and glass in hand. French onion soup for you and bourbon, if you had to guess, for Jake.

He was the only one you'd ever seen drink anything other than blood but in your time at the house, you'd seen him drink more liquor than anything else, like he was always on the edge of tipsy or nursing a hangover with another drink. You weren’t exactly sure how that worked with his vampirism but he looked more like him with a glass in his hand.

"How are you able to drink?"

You’d been collecting lore as much as you could, soaking it all in like a sponge in the hopes that somewhere amongst the stories and the legends was the key to understanding the soul tie. And also because if you never bound with Josh and were destined to die a mortal, you’d at least want to write a book about it or something.

"We can eat and drink normal food, it just doesn't provide us with what we need. It'd be like you eating nothing but cardboard. Alcohol, on the other hand, has the same effect on us as it does on humans, although it takes a lot more to get us drunk. Feeding on drunk humans though, that's the best way to do it."

"You get your girls drunk first?" you asked as you stared down at your soup, mixing the piping hot bowl and praying it cooled fast. These days you only realized you were ravenous when food was set down in front of you. Consequences of trying to keep up with your vampire boyfriend.

You could practically see the smile stretch across Jake’s face in your peripheral vision, like he understood the question behind the question that you hadn’t even consciously asked.

"Only if they want to get drunk," he answered simply as he sipped.

"I wouldn't mind getting drunk," you quipped flatly as you spooned soup far too hot for your mouth onto your tongue, instantly regretting it as you jumped at the sharp sear you gave yourself.

Jake seemed to wince just watching you but didn’t acknowledge it. "You've lost way too much blood to be drinking. One beer and you'd be on the floor and then Josh would really be mad at me."

"What are you, my bodyguard for the night?" That somehow felt worse than one night stand probably did. At least those girls were too blissed out to know they were being manipulated. Or maybe they knew and just didn’t care.

"If I need to be," he nodded. And when you flashed your eyes up to greet his, you found an insistence there that he rarely had. He wasn’t exactly the responsible brother, or so you had thought. You were beginning to second guess just how irresponsible he actually was, what with having saved your life once already and keeping such a close eye on you now.

The waiter returned to refill your carafe, stepping up to the table as silence had fallen over you both, you sipping your soup and Jake sipping his bourbon. You took it as an opportunity to antagonize Jake a little. If he was so keen on switching the roles for the night, you could take on that of tease well enough.

“I’ll have a glass of reisling, whenever you get a chance,” you smiled up at the waiter who nodded silently.

“No she won’t,” Jake corrected immediately, looking annoyed and not even bothering to take his eyes off of you while he addressed the waiter.

The poor waiter, who was innocent in all of this, paused for a moment, staring between the two of you. So you gave him another warm smile and batted your eyelashes in that way that made Josh go crazy. It seemed to always do the trick.

“He’s just kidding,” you said sweetly, to which the waiter nodded once more and left to fulfill your request, leaving you alone with a glowering Jacob.

God, you’d never seen him angry before. Or serious, for that matter. You certainly didn’t mind it.

You flashed your flirty look at him then. "Are you gonna scold me?"

His eyes narrowed and for a moment, he looked almost the way Josh had when you’d pushed him too far. Dangerous."You don't want to push my buttons, honey. Trust me."

Maybe you did, although the last time certainly hadn’t gone over all that well.

"One glass, what's the harm in that?" you shrugged, deciding it was maybe best to lay off the button pressing for the moment, all things considered.

"One glass." He repeated it like a command before he went back to sipping his own drink.

The harm, of course, was that he had been right. Your bowl of soup hardly doing much in the way of soaking up the alcohol, your one drink had left you barely able to see straight, certainly unable to walk in a straight line. Maybe you hadn’t realized just how much blood you had lost.

But God, it felt good to be out of the house and feeling things created entirely by ethanol rather than your own body. You loved Josh and you loved living with him, but your life had changed so drastically in such a small period of time. It was nice to feel normal for a change. You hadn’t felt that since before your parents, out drinking with friends in a dive bar. That was what you missed some nights, being carefree. Sometimes you missed it so badly your chest squeezed in on itself and you had to control your breathing.

Normalcy. You’d rarely felt it throughout your life. But now, you found yourself aching for it. And bars with cheap drinks.

"Oooh, we should go to a bar!" you belted into the night air as Jake walked you from the restaurant back to where he had parked his car along the street.

"No, we shouldn't," he answered, a rare moment where amusement barely touched his tone.

He probably didn’t turn down his women when they made such a suggestion. Actually, that was probably where he picked them up in the first place, at said bars.

"Come on, I thought you were the cool one!" you pleaded. If anyone could give you some sense of normalcy, oddly enough it could be Jake.

"Josh will kill me if-"

"Josh isn't even here!" You felt like a toddler insisting on something they shouldn’t have, gripping his wrist as you begged.

But you watched as his face lightened despite how hard he fought it, the smile forming as he silently scolded himself. The shake of his head seemed unintentional and totally exasperated.

"Fine,” he finally agreed as he threaded his fingers through yours, “but you're drinking water when we get there."

"Yes, sir," you beamed. It was met with an eye roll but you could tell he hardly meant it as he pulled you down the street past his parked car, headed a few blocks away where the crowds were bigger. And louder. Places he frequented, no doubt.

He led you past several modest looking businesses, down one dark alley that would have scared you had it not been for the alcohol in your system and the even scarier vampire gripping your hand tightly, two streets over, and finally to the threshold of a bar. A dive, by the looks of it, what with its greasy beer signs hanging on the walls that hadn’t been cleaned in far too long and the pool table that looked like the velvet was almost worn all the way through at the corners. But the walnut bar looked fully intact, neatly polished and swarming with beer-drinkers.

It was decently packed but Jake parted the seas without ever even making eye contact with the other patrons around him. And it only took a moment for him to emerge from the long wooden bar with drinks in hand, water for you, like he had promised, and another bourbon for himself.

He gestured with his chin to a spot somewhere behind you, handing you your water and taking your waist to lead you back through the crowd to an emptier portion of the bar where he claimed a small table with seating enough for only two. You weren’t unaware of the eyes that seemed to follow his every move, either. A sea of beautiful women and they all seemed to fix their eyes to him.

You couldn’t blame them. Jake was gorgeous. Anyone with eyes could see that. And it shouldn’t have spurred you on, being the one at his arm that night. You weren’t really his, afterall. But spur you on, it did. You would revel in their jealousy.

There weren’t many people in the bar dancing, more just singing along to karaoke or playing pool in the opposite corner. But you held your drink close to your chest and sipped it through the tiny straw like it was a cocktail, moving your body to the bad karaoke while Jake settled himself into a seat in the darkest corner of the bar.

“If you wanted to dance, we should have gone to a club,” he remarked as he watched you move.

“You have a spot?” you asked, never missing a beat of the song.

“I have a spot for everything,” he smiled.

You feigned an “ooh” at him as you danced. It was exactly what you needed: to be surrounded by people who weren’t watching or listening, people who didn’t care what you did or what you thought about or how you felt. And it helped that next to Jake, you were practically invisible. Nobody cared that you were dancing by yourself to a shitty cover of Olivia Rodrigo’s newest song.

If Jake hadn’t been there, you might have even felt entirely alone.

“See anyone you like?” you asked over the music as you made a show of wiggling your hips to the beat of the song. It looked ridiculous but it earned a laugh from the vampire tucked away in the corner, observing everything carefully.

“Not scouting tonight,” he answered.

Not once did he take his eyes off you.

“Well don’t let me get in the way of your fun,” you shrugged and turned your back to face him, giving him a good view of your terrible moves from behind. It was quite the show you were putting on for him, although it was much less for him than it was for you.

“You could never,” you heard him breathe quietly from behind you. It almost sounded like something you weren’t meant to hear and you intended to turn and tease him about it when one of the few guys you hadn’t even noticed when you’d walked in slunk away from the bar and danced over to you, beer in hand.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before. You come here often?”

You could have laughed at the terrible cliche of a line. You'd been spending so much time with vampires, you’d forgotten how cringey human men could be. There was a certain confidence you gained after being alive for centuries, you figured, and the man that stood before you wearing a football jersey for some team you didn’t recognize or care about and holding a miller lite in his hand like his life depended on it certainly hadn’t been around long enough to find that confidence. You almost felt bad for him.

“I’ve never been here, actually,” you laughed warmly at his attempt, not really an invitation for him to approach as you barely even looked at him, although he took it as one.

“Dancing all alone. Someone should really help you out,” he smiled politely. And you could practically hear the snicker Jake let out as he witnessed the entire thing. No doubt amused.

“Oh, I don’t mind dancing alone,” you answered simply, continuing to sway your hips in a circle as you sipped your water.

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” you heard the stranger say from behind you. And then you felt his pelvis make contact with your ass as he pulled his body up behind you, flush with your back.

You didn’t even have time to turn and swing on him like you had planned before Jake was suddenly standing in front of you, pulling you roughly into him instead and giving the stranger a look that could have turned him to dust if Jake had been capable of it.

You turned on your heel to press your back into Jake’s chest and watched as the nameless man who stood in front of you puffed up his chest and squeezed his beer can far too hard in his fist. But then a confused look washed over his face, his eyes clouding over ever so slightly, and he mumbled out a quiet, “Sorry,” before quickly rejoining the crowd at the bar, now cheering on some poor shot girl who definitely didn’t get paid enough.

You turned back to Jake, ready to ask him if he was alright, but when you did, his eyes were already on yours and he looked angry, undoubtedly enraged by whatever he had felt radiating off of the stranger when he had made his little move on you.

"We're leaving," he fumed, taking your wrist in his hand with devastating force, ready to lead you out of the bar.

“We’ve only been here like twenty minutes-” You readied your argument but were met by Jake quickly spinning back to you, his hand snaking up into your hair at the nape of your neck and pulling your head back roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“What did I tell you about pushing my buttons?”

There was an undeniable heat building in the pit of your stomach and you fought desperately to cool it.

“Your girls never push your buttons?” you teased him, rather meekly too. The words came out of your mouth as practically a squeak as you tried to conjure up some of that boldness you had found earlier, boldness that suddenly evaded you when his hands were gripping your body as though you weren't, in fact, a delicate little human.

But to your disappointment, your tease had turned him from furious to smug in a matter of seconds and his hands fell away from your body while that typical Jake look settled back into his features.

“No. They know what’s good for them."

Without another word, he took your wrist, much more gently this time, and led you out of the bar. When you finally emerged from the crowd and stumbled onto the sidewalk, you yelped as he took you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder, letting your torso dangle down his back.

You could feel his thumb brush over the bite on your thigh as he gripped you to keep you in place and for some reason, it incited something within you.

“‘They know what’s good for them’, bullshit," you huffed from behind him. "You just use your gifts on them and they’re at your beck and call.”

“I don’t use my gifts to get people to sleep with me, sweetheart,” he corrected you as he walked you both back to his car in the cold air that had gone a bit drier thanks to the clouds parting.

“But you sure do use them when you sleep with them." You put on your best Jake voice. "‘I give my guests very unforgettable nights’."

He laughed, unphased. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Yeah that was you. I sounded just like you.”

“It was terrible. You might want to work on that.”

You heard the sound of his car unlock, signaling your destination was close.

“I’ll work on whatever I please,” you argued for the sake of arguing, waiting for him to come to a stop and put you down.

“Like your jealousy,” he suggested as he came to a halt.

And suddenly embarrassment burned through you so hot that it quickly became anger, unbridled. You wriggled and fought his grip until he reluctantly dropped you back onto the ground in front of him where he held his palms up like some sort of white flag, trying to gauge how angry you were with him.

“I’m not jealous,” you fumed, rather unconvincingly too. You really couldn't lie to someone who knew exactly what you were feeling. It was infuriating.

“No, of course not," he smirked, "That's why you bring up my dates every five minutes."

You opened your mouth to argue back, hopefully something convincing by the time it left your mouth, but he stopped you before you could get a word out, his patience visibly wearing thin.

“Get in the car." It wasn't so much a request as it was a demand. And one that you met with your arms folded over your chest and your feet firmly planted where you stood.

"No."

He gritted his teeth. "You're incredibly stubborn."

"Why don't you just use your gifts on me, force me to get in the car."

"Because I would never do that. I would like you to just get in the car so that I can take you home and sober you up before Josh gets home and tears me a new one."

"Couldn't you just make him not angry with you?"

It was petty and you watched him take a deep breath to calm his growing annoyance before it bubbled over into anger.

"I don't just use my powers without discretion," he stated quietly but pointedly. "And I don't generally go around making people feel things they wouldn't otherwise want to feel unless someone is in danger. Now, are you upset because I use my gifts so freely on other women but not on you? Or do you somehow have it in your head that I could make Josh feel a soul tie and I'm just choosing not to?"

You'd be lying if you said it hadn't crossed your mind. You'd stopped yourself from asking on more than one occasion. If nothing else, it would have just been far too easy and clearly nothing about this life was all that easy.

You didn't meet his eyes as you suddenly found the sleeves of your coat enthralling. "I'm not an idiot. I know it doesn't work like that."

His shoulders fell as he took in the sight of you, defeated.

"The women I bring home don't push my buttons because they want something from me. And when they want that something, they'll do anything to get it, including letting a guy decide what they eat for dinner," he explained in a much gentler voice.

You swiped a tear out of your eye, willing others not to fall. Why you were crying, you weren't even sure but you agreed to chalk that up to lack of sleep.

"At least you have good taste, I guess," you joked with a pitiful chuckle.

"Honey, I didn't mean to upset you, okay? I'm-" You watched as he hesitated, trying not to make the situation worse. "I'm trying to be more respectful of your privacy, it's just hard. I can't exactly shut you out. I tease you to lighten the tension, that's all."

You pursed your lips as you thought about the new living situation, accompanied by all of the mess that it was. So many things you weren't entirely sure you ever really would get used to.

"Everyone knows what I'm going through before I even know I'm going through it. It's embarrassing. It was nice being surrounded by humans for a moment. Just normal people who can't…check in on me."

"I would never judge you for anything you feel, I hope you know that. It's not your fault that I can do this and it's not your responsibility to try and hide yourself from me."

"But I want to."

You met his eyes after you said it and you were stunned to see that he actually looked wounded by your words. Of all of the looks you'd ever seen him wear, that had never been one of them.

"You and Sam are going to know me better than Josh does by month's end," you added with a sudden urge to soften the blow you had just unknowingly dealt.

He sighed heavily and dropped his eyes to the ground, remaining silent for what felt like an eternity before he finally spoke again. "Would it make you feel better if I used my gifts on you to get you into the car?"

You couldn't help but laugh.

"No, it really wouldn't," you admitted as you passed him and pulled the car door open, situating yourself inside.

After another moment, he joined you, settling himself into the driver's seat and doing almost a double take when he saw your bite exposed on your leg again. This time though, you didn't move to hide it as his eyes fixed on it. And why they did, you had no idea, but you held your breath as you watched him reach his hand out over the center console to rub his thumb over the raised bites, still looking angry and red against your otherwise smooth skin.

You watched his hand carefully, trying to ignore the fire that seemed to start somewhere in your body at his touch and the dream you'd had days before that still haunted you. The women who were lucky enough to get just a taste of what he could do…

"My little human," he whispered just under his breath.

You braved his face with a gulp that hopefully wasn't as loud as it had seemed in your head.

You wanted to feel it. Had wanted to feel it since you'd met him.

"Maybe just a little…" you whispered back.

He never even asked for clarification, only lifted his eyes to yours in an instant, like he'd been silently begging you to say it. And the moment his gaze met yours, you felt a jolt of something course through you. It made you jump instinctively as it started like a warm fuzzy feeling in your face and sent little lightning bolts of electricity through your every vein. You felt almost high, like you'd just injected a shot of straight serotonin into your bloodstream. You couldn't even remember why you'd been angry with him in the first place.

It was only then that you realized just how dangerous Jake truly was. He was whatever drug he wanted to be, however addicting he wanted to be. It was no wonder people would do anything to feel him again.

The smile that spread from cheek to cheek across your face couldn't be helped and it seemed infectious, spreading to him as well as he watched you take what he offered. It was like a secret the two of you shared, what he had just done to you. And fuck, it felt good.

Your demeanor had changed entirely by the time he pulled his hand away to start the car. You felt like you were floating, utterly relaxed and borderline ecstatic for no particular reason. It was almost crazy how you'd left the anger behind so quickly and replaced it with blinding happiness. You felt almost giddy.

As the car hummed to life, Jake took off in the direction of your new home, driving way faster than any human would have been capable. You turned your attention from the road to the radio, flipping it on only to be greeted by a Taylor Swift song that you'd cried to too many times before over boys far less fun than the one you were dating. Or the one who had more recently flipped your emotions on their axis.

"Ooh I love this one!" You turned the song up loudly to reach over the sound of the rain picking up and the car weaving around bends in the forest.

"Terrible taste in music," Jake laughed as he glanced over at you, now showcasing those same terrible moves you had in the bar but from the comfort of his passenger seat.

You brushed him off with a wave of your hand. "You vampires are so pretentious."

You turned the music up louder to sing along. Well, more scream along with the volume it was at, like you might have with your friends long before your parents had died and taken those pieces from you.

"So it goes, he can't keep his wild eyes on the road. Takes me home, lights are off, he's taking off his clothes-"

"Those are not the words." Jake shook his head, yet his eyes gleamed with amusement and you could see the laugh already forming in his throat.

"Oh you know this one?" you accused even though the idea of Jake, who had been alive for centuries and had seen empires rise and fall, listening to Taylor Swift delighted you to no end.

"Better than you, it seems."

"Those are the words!" you swore, spurred on by the infectious resonance of him fully laughing now at your antics. "And I got that good girl face-"

"Face?" he questioned back boisterously, entirely skeptical of how well you knew this song.

His eyes were almost fully diverted from the road as he watched you sing and attempt to dance. And god, he was beautiful when he laughed.

"Yeah, I swear," you giggled back, "Tight little skirt-"

You never even saw it coming. One moment you were looking at Jake, screaming mostly correct lyrics at him, the next, your body was being pushed through the air by metal and debris, all flying at a million miles an hour that you somehow seemed to be watching in slow motion. The next thing you felt was the cold hard ground and something wet pooling over almost every surface of your body, like a hot and sticky blanket.

And then Jake's arms, his hands frantic on your body. Was he carrying you somewhere? Was he speaking or were you imagining that?

Before you went, you saw him. Jake. He stood above you like an ethereal being. He didn’t look old but somehow you could tell then and there he was the type of being that time passed through rather than gliding his body along with it. He was like a marble statue standing tall against the raging waters of age and the turmoil of life. He was beautiful. There were no casualties that would take him, certainly not the one that was about to take you. It was an odd peace that pushed through your body, replacing the dull hum of pain that wouldn’t have time to scream in your ear, the adrenaline long gone only when your body would finally wilt into the ground. It calmed you knowing that regardless of whether you came or went, Jake would remain.

You felt something cold and wet press to your lips as the world faded away and the memories of your life, the sad ones, the happy ones, your parents, your friends, Josh, blended together to form a thin thread of existence out in front of you. Closing in at the edges like a vignette on the last frame of your life.

And then the thread snapped.

You never would have known it but death was easy. It came as swiftly as the dawn and as silently as the night.

Taglist: @gvfcinema @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hippievanfleet @crossczeched48 @cassiesgreta @sunfl0wer-power @abby-gvf @joshkiszkasfoot @joshskittytickler @lightsofthe-living-gvf @i-choose-the-road @am-bam @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @themoreyou-love @bumblebeewrites @coolmedown @sacredthesin @jonch-gvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @demonrat444 @malany-gvf @myownparadise96 @capturethechaos @st4rdust-ch0rds @montenegroisr @sacredjake @notthedroidz @sinarainbows @kissingthegoat @eraofstardustchords @cherryflo @blacksoul-27 @lyndz2names @earthgrlsreasy @gvfmarge @carlyfleet @thetroublegetssoloud71 @withlovegvf @suzi107 @gracev0609 @objectsinspvce @kissakiszka @amorlizette @stardustcatcher @notsostrangerthing @brokebellsgvf @sweet1squash @imleavingyoufornewyork @lipstickitty @ageofhearingloss @zoe-tally06 @mavvanfleet

@stardustthread @sammysinger04 @jaketlove @areuirish @kashmirclam @jessicafg03 @the-starcatcher @amygvf13 @mackalah @reesetrippingthelight @fwzco @builtby-gvf @jakeforsakeher @josh-iamyour-mama @positivegvfthings @jordie-gvf @literal-dead-leaf @gretavangroupie @ageofbajabule @violet-hayes @ur_m0m @schleeble @venabulisvinco @keepingupwiththekardamomme @becinabubblegvf @jakes-black-gibson @sarakay-gvf @spark-my-nature

[autumnaaltonen]

(listen, listen my two brain cells are working hard!).

Alucard with a sort of muscular s/o who has scars and stretch marks due to hunting/missions. She's seems intimidating/doesn't talk much and always takes things too seriously even with sarcasm. But secretly she just socially awkward and shy. Who's insecure about her body and how her muscles/scars making her look scary.

Maybe one day Alucard complements her for her work during a mission ((or one day she wears a dress for an event)) and catches her blushing cuz she nvr gotten a complement before.

Hehehehe, yesssss

Alucard With a Muscular, Scarred and Socially Awkward S/O

As an individual, you were one of the more experienced monster hunters out of all the other human Hellsing soldiers, you’ve got your fair share of kills from every variety of freak, be it vampires, ghouls or werewolves. However, while this fact should make you the most popular member on the team, it was unfortunately quite the opposite.

Spending so much time on your own on solo missions, even prior to Hellsing, has put you a little on the stiff side. You can tell when a vamp was about to slash a filed hand at you from a single twitch of the finger, or when a ghoul was capable of running rather than just stumbling based on the pattern of their steps.

But social ques like friendly greetings, sarcasm and self-deprecating humour have become lost to you over time, and it’s painfully noticeable to both yourself and to everyone around you. You were stoic silent, not in ignorance, but fearful of the mystery that has become your fellow human. Jokes fly above your head, and playful jabs make you question the people you surround yourself with, but you keep rationalising at the end of the day that it’s all in your head, and that your glaring is not going to make you any new friends. You felt like a wolf in a pack of sheep.

To add wood to the fire, you’ve also garnered a number of physical mementos from your work, like nasty scars from close calls with a mouth or a claw, moles and freckles from waiting in the sun before nightfall called upon your kill, and stretch marks from the various changes your body has gone through during your physically intensive work

So, you were a tad intimidating to most. But Alucard has always been different. He’s the King of weird and intimidating, so when he took notice of your insecurities despite your gifts, he just couldn’t have it.

“Do not waste your mortal life fretting over polished gold. We may not shine in the sun, but just as the moon dazzles at night, our aptitude is best performed in darkness.”

The both of you hit it off fairly quickly, to say the least. With Alucard by your side, your social anxiety is somewhat pattered down, as there is no way in hell that you could seem like a weirdo with him walking next to you.

Alucard makes you feel seen at the most unlikely of moments, laughing proudly while watching you kill on missions, competing with you on who could take down the most ghouls in one night, or checking on you every once in a while to make sure you were stocked on ammunition.

He even begins to give you words of affirmation and compliments that frazzled and dazed you every time.

“Even I could learn to fear the fury of your gaze, dear.”

“What an alluring sight you are, out of breath and blood-sated.”

“Careful now, if you keep fighting like that, I may just have to keep you.”

Alucard made you feel special and one of a kind, and for once in the best ways. And when he slowly starts pushing on your walls, and words become actions, you wonder why you ever second-guessed yourself.

But then there came the dreaded occasion of the UK Special Forces Division Ball, an annual celebration for the Queen’s most gifted soldiers, and of course Hellsing was hosting as usual, being the most indispensable military group of the time. To make matters worse, Sir Integra had chosen you to deliver this year’s welcoming speech, saying you were “the most exemplary standard for whom a solider of the Crown should strive to be.” And as his human friend, Integra also expected you to accompany Alucard throughout the night to balance out his attitude. Alucard agreed to your accompaniment without issue, even looking forward to not having to be forced into speaking with arrogant and imperious higher-ups.

Fuck that. Fuck this. YOU HAVE TO WHERE A DRESS!?  

You aren’t a ‘pick me’ by any means, but you cannot recall the last time you were anywhere near a pair of heels and lip-gloss, and that terrifies you. What the dress showed off your shoulders and arms? If you put on make-up, would you end up like the Matchmaker after Mulan threw tea on her? With your muscles and scars, what if you looked like a frou-frou G.I. Jane?

You don’t think you’ve ever had a near panic attack over such a trivial matter before, but it wasn’t trivial to you! For once, you were not even worrying about what others would think of you. Instead, all you could imagine is the fact that Alucard would see. Handsome, beautiful Alucard…he came from a background of Medieval opulence and royal refinery, a King who wore robes of ruby-dyed wool and a crown of glittering jewels, who had dazzling women at his beck and call to serve him in any way he asked.

You knew there was only one thing you could do: call upon your commanding officers. It took a lot of self-reassurance and determination, but it all pays off when you see the smiles on Sir Integra and Seras’ faces, both absolutely game to doll you up for your big moment. Sir Integra is a master-class in fashion, having three separate closets for her suits, gowns and decorative weapons. Seras is a social woman fresh out of police college, and was no stranger to what cosmetics looked best when clubbing or going to a fancy-shmancy gala.

You imagined that they would cover you up with a shawl, or cover your scars with concealer, but to your horror they instead slipped you into a sleeveless and tight woven gown and black heels that accentuated all your muscles and curves, as well as applied very basic cosmetics to just your face to make you pop.

Maybe this was a terrible idea.

But they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and shove you out of your room and down the hallways into the ballroom, practically throwing you through the doors…and directly into Alucard’s back. Turns out he had been waiting by the entrance for quite some time, making a bit of a scary scene for all the other guests who needed to walk past him towards the dance floor. He was looking for someone, and everyone hoped to God it was for a good reason.

You were able to brace your hands in front of you after being thrown into your good friend’s back, knowing that even someone with your strength could not stumble him. When he turns around, prepared to scold whoever dared try to shove him, you brace for the impact of a bullying laugh or a disappointed frown, wrapping your arms around yourself like a protective shield and looking down at his boots.

But you feel his gloved fingers wrap themselves around your hands firmly, removing them from around your sides and resting them atop his chest. He then puts a finger under your chin, tipping your head up to look at him.

“I was starting to wonder when my second-half would appear. Though I see you kept me waiting for good reason, now you have become even more dazzling than the moon.”

You gape for a moment, taking his words. “Your second-half?” you question.

“Of course, why do you think I asked my master to keep you by my side tonight? A King requires his fair beauty on his arm.”

The sincerity of his words and the admiration on his face nearly brings tears to your eyes, settling yourself against him in relief as he pulls you closer. Gone are all the nerves that have been biting at you all day, and you feel prepared to take on the world (or at least deliver a greeting address) with Alucard in your ring.

[return-of-the-unicorns]

The sun set over the scrub-lands of L.A. Finn looks up and watched a pair of buzzards coast off on the ocean breezes. She stops and shakes her self, before shifting into her Capall Cogaidh* form. Now standing taller than a Clydesdale she tosses her head and rears up a little, she can be dramatic (As a treat), her amethyst horn catching the sun's last rays as it dips below the horizon. Then she turns to the scrub desert and begins to run.

Past where she was given aid.

Her hooves thunder against the ground, while electricity begins to gather around her body, dancing over her moon-white flanks and through her fire-red mane.

Past where she and Beetlejuice danced away from the spiral.

The ground below her thundered with each step, and dust rose behind her.

Past where she had crashed to earth.

And she slowed. Her head is up as she walks, and her ears pivot back and forth, listening for danger. She breathes deeply, trying to slow her racing heart. As her sides heave slightly she turns, a split second too late as a dark shadow slams into her, talons raking her body as she goes rolling dozens of meters away, disturbing desert foliage. With a gasp, she tries to roll to her feet, eyes darting up in the sky for whatever took her down.

Fuck, it can fly.

Red welled up from her shoulders and she pushes herself up to her feet seconds before the hateful thing's talons lacerate her flesh and grip her sides lifting her into the air. She reels trying to get a good look at it. A twisted parody of a drake, skinless wings dripping tar-like ichor, writing muscles under pallid, worm ridden flesh, and eyes opening and closing in various places on the body. Finn felt something rise in her stomach, regretting looking directly at the monstrosity as it carried her higher.

She pulls on her willpower and begins to try and wriggle free from its grasp, only to let out a scream of agony as it dug in tighter.

That's not going to WORK little unicorn.

The hateful thing flies up, and then drops her, before diving down after the falling vampire, talons digging into her chest and ripping, exposing broken bone. It flies up again, laughing as jagged talons rip at pale fur and red flesh, spilling vitae onto the ground below.

You thought you could last a second round with me? I was bound together to destroy you. The so called heir of Salout DIES tonight. The hateful stain of your clan against demonkind will be wiped out.

A hand morphs out of the hateful flesh, and grasps her horn firmly and bends. There is a crack and a shriek of pure agony echos over the arid hills, accompanied by a massive out spilling of power.

It lets her go one more time, letting her fall quite a bit before dropping into a stoop to catch and torment her again, talons out. Then a brilliant light glows around the Salubri. The hateful thing slams into the glowing ball of light and they both tumble to the ground. White coat becomes red and she shrinks to the size of a wolf. The creature is now entangled with a nine-tailed kitsune with blazing red fur. Her aura blazing about her like a halo.

Again they hit the ground. This time both of them as Finnula had latched on hard, pulling back a wing on the creature. Again and again in Juko form she bites, as electricity sparks around her, the burning stench of rotted flesh filling the air.

The hateful thing manages to grasp Finn by the back of her neck and throws her into a large rock formation, cracking it slightly. She falls into a heap on the ground, panting for breath as the abberation of flesh and sinew slides forward on undulating chitin

You think you can win here? Child of the Morrigan? Line of Salout? You think you have POWER. This is tainted land. That city is built in pain, tears, and lies and greed. You stand in one of the Wyrm's Strongholds, and you think you can win? You will die. And your Childe is-

It's stopped in mid-sentence as Finnula bodyslams into it. “SHUT UP!” She snarls, sinking teeth into it again and ripping away flesh. Each strike is accompanied by the flash of lightning and the boom of thunder echoing out across the scrub-lands.

Again and again, they meet and tussle, one being thrown or peeling away to redouble an attack. The ground is soaked red, and the scent of tainted ichor and angelic vitae fill the air, overpowering all other scents.

Finn stands, ragged and panting as she pulls her organs back into her stomach glaring at the creature. They both stand, trembling and gasping.

You're flagging. I can smell it. The things that will befall your soul. Delightful. You're still CURSED, Blood of Caine.

Finnula tosses her head and charges it, picking up pace as she transforms again, now to Koto form. Then she skids to a halt, bits of electricity still sparking off of her as dust rages about her. She withdraws a simple, small sheet of glass. Eyes on the hateful thing, she snaps the piece of glass in two. A second later, the monster's head simply falls off and Finnula grins. Then her violet eyes widen in utter horror as the head simply grows back.

You really thought that would work on me? That the Wyrm's powers would aid you? Feh, Wyrmhealer. You're going to fail. To fall. They ALWAYS do.

Finnula stops and stares at it, still panting. Nothing... of the wyrm could take it down. She shits back to homid form, massive wings on her back and angelic mien gleaming about her. She grins and levels a shotgun at it as the creature charges her, cruel fury in the eyes that grow over its body like pustular growths, some popping as it approaches.

She takes a deep breath and clears her mind, pulling up angelic power. A gift from her gods. A gift from Adara. Untouched by the curse of Caine. She pulls the trigger.

A beam of golden light pierces the thing. Finnula approaches, stumbling with her stomach still partially open. She stares down at the twitching mass of flesh, bone and eyeballs and unloads several more beams into it, looking diminished with each shot. With one last heave of effort, she immolates it in holy fire, and then vanishes, teleporting home and collapsing in front of a doorway that she's opened a portal to her Istanbul have.

She reaches out with her mind, struggling at the blocks and attacks from Pentex. Elijah...

[hunty627]

Here’s the script of The curse of the Were-June.

One breezy October day, the Little Einsteins and I were gonna have a Halloween movie night. We were gonna watch the curse of the wolf kid in 3D. The next morning, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Outside, Big Jet and Pink Sparrow were spying on us. They heard what had happened and they invented the Spookifier. And they secretly fired it at June. In the Rocket room, we were decorating it for Halloween when June arrived, looking kinda hairy. June had turned into a werewolf! But she still felt the same. I was so scared, I crashed into the wall. Big Jet and Pink Sparrow laughed and June got so mad, she bit Big Jet on the wing and he flew away with Pink Sparrow. Soon, I calmed down and we figured out why June became a werewolf. So we set off on our mission to stop them. Our first stop was Bran Castle in Transylvania. We went in and searched, but Annie stepped on a trap door and fell into a dark dungeon! Thankfully, she had her flashlight. It helped her for a little bit, when it’s batteries died. Then she got hit by Big Jet’s Spookifier! We found the castle library and I pulled one of the books and the bookshelf moved, revealing a secret passage. We went in and then we spotted Annie. But Reanne was so scared, she fainted! The Spookifier had turned Annie into a vampire! We did a little experiment with some garlic perfume. Turns out when the Spookifier turns someone into a Halloween monster, you’ll still feel like yourself, you’ll have some abilities, but you won’t have the same weaknesses or be able to turn another person into the same monster. After she opened her eyes, we told Reanne not to be scared and explained what happened to Annie. Then we raced to the Scottish castle in Sodor. Annie flew there with her bat wings. But when we tried to catch them, Big Jet used the Spookifier to turn Leo into a ghost! Then Big Jet and Pink Sparrow flew away! They used their boosters to fly extra fast to Ulfstead castle! But being a ghost, Leo possessed Ellie and took the wheel and we chased after them super fast! By the time we arrived, the fight began. But then Big Jet set the Spookifier to full power under the magic October moon! And when it hit June, she had become a fully complete werewolf! And she began to hunt me down! But Rocket used a metal cage to trap her. Then Pikachu beat Big Jet and Pink Sparrow with his Thunderbolt attack and I used the Spookifier to change them back to normal. Leo and Annie were human again, and June was back to her regular self, but she was still a werewolf. She felt very sad and thought she was a hideous hairy freak. But we told her that it doesn’t matter what she looks like. She’ll always be the best dancer ever and a true friend and member of the team. We hugged her and when the sun rose, our love and friendship changed June back to human. She was very happy. And we were all very happy too. And also rather sleepy. So we went home to get some bed rest. And Leo yawned before saying “mission completion.” The end.

[daisiesandshakes]

Hi can I request jealousy headcanon for Isaac,Arthur,Mozart,comte please

Hi dear nonny! Thank you so much for your request 💖

Sorry it took so long, night shifts were exhausting...

Here you go, I hope you like it! 💝

(@ashavazesa , I'm tagging you, maybe you like it!)

Jealousy headcanons

for Isaac, Arthur, Mozart &

le Comte

Isaac

The shy, poor boy doesn't know what hits him, he wasn't prepared... It is the first time he's really in love and it is his first time being jealous.

He wouldn't talk about his feelings in the beginning, because he feels a bit ashamed about them. Additional he's not used to talk about feelings anyway, so he bottles up.

You recognize his strange behavior like avoiding your glare, his abrupt short answers (especially towards the male who causes the jealousy), but at first you can't figure out where it comes from. He would also act more possessive than usual, suddenly kiss you firmly in front of others or pulling you close.

Though he knows you love him truly, he's unsettled deep inside and needs your reassurance. You'll have to push him slightly to open up, to tell you what's on his mind. When he does...oh boy.

With glowing eyes and fervent words he'll beg you to SHOW him your love, pushing you onto the bed. Needy for your touch and your words of love, nothing remains from his shyness. He won't let you go the next hours, making sure you're really his.

"Isaac, please tell me what concerns you... did I something wrong?"

You're sitting next to him in his room on the edge of the bed.

"N- no... It's not that."

His behavior was oddly brusque today and you are really concerned.

With a sigh you overthink what happened all day and then something klicked. You spent a lot of time with Napoleon while he teached the kids. Could it be?  "Isaac, are you jealous?"

The vampire flinches and draws his gaze away from yours, a blush appears on his handsome face.

You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. Gazing deep into his beautiful cherryblossom eyes you ask "Isaac, you know that I love you, that my heart belongs only to you, don't you?"

"Y- yes. My head knows it, but..." suddenly he pushes you down.

"Show it to me." He whispers, his voice husky and deep, his eyes dark with passion before his lips captures yours in a fiery kiss, his fingers ripping your blouse open.

Mozart

Mozart is probably the worst with jealousy (besides Theo). He even can't stand the thought of another male being too close to you. It doesn't matter if it is another resident or a complete stranger, he is very possessive and you only belong to him. No other has the right to touch you.

If someone touches you by accident, his possession drives him to get rid of the foreign scent on you immediatly.

When it's a strange male (talking to him would be enough to drive him crazy), he would be broiling jealous, unable to express himself. Normally Mozart is very straight forward, but not when it comes to express his feelings for you. Blaming you for being too trustful, he would even start an argument.

But Mozart loves you so much, you're so precious to him, he'll regret his harsh spoken words soon and searches for a way to talk.

Admitting his jealousy, he shows you that there is only one way to calm him down. Claiming your body and mind he would train you to who you belong until the sun rises and your voice is hoarse.

"M- Mozart, what-" you gasp as he pulls you behind the thick curtains, sealing your lips with his. "You spent enough time with the other residents." He breathes hard as he pulls away. "Especially with Leonardo. I don't like his cigarello scent on you." Your eyes grow wide. "Wolf, are you jealous?"

A faint rose appears on his cheeks. "I don't want to be...But yes I am."

"But... You don't have to be jealous. I love you so much, Wolf. There is no room in my heart for another man."

"I know, meine Liebe. But it seems that my heart doesn't accept this truth fully." His radiant violet eyes pierces into your soul.

"What can I do to make you feel better, Wolf?"

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he leans forward. "Await me in the thermae. I'll make sure the only scent that remains on your body is mine, and obviously I'll have to remind you the next hours to who you belong." fervent spoken words next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Arthur

He never felt jealousy before. Being a rotten flirt, Arthur is used to be the reason for that emotion, he never thought it could happen to him.

Trying to hide his feelings he'd cover them with playful words and actions. But when a male approaches you and gets too close, he won't think twice to make clear you are HIS girlfriend, holding you at your waist, whisking you away.

Deep inside Arthur has the feeling he doesn't deserve you, so he is afraid to loose you and gets easily jealous. He wouldn't like to admit it to you , worried he could scare you off.

But you are not able to overlook the pout and scowl on his handsome face or to overhear the truth hidden behind his joking words, irrelevant how much he tries to mask his feelings.

Arthur has a deep longing for your reassurance in words and body language, he needs your touch so bad, be prepared for exhausting, delightful hours between the sheets after he got jealous.

You are sitting on the couch in Arthur's room, rambling about your day with Vincent. Lately he gives you advices in painting techniques and you enjoy them, happy to make progress in your hobby. Arthur looks up from the papers with a smile, sitting at his desk.

"Darling, you sound really happy. I know you enjoy painting with Vincent, but are you sure you didn't decide secretly to leave your filthy boyfriend for this pure angel, Luv?" Arthur chuckles. For a split second a hurt expression appears in his loving gaze and his voice didn't sound as lighthearted as it should. You set your cup of coffee down with a surprised look on your face. "Are you jealous?"

A slight rose tints his cheeks as he pulls his gaze away.

You hurry over to him cupping his face and locking eyes. "Arthur, you are the only one for me. You are the love of my life, you know that, don't you?" Your thumbs caress his cheeks.

Arthur's big blue eyes waver at your words and he inhales deeply.

"You have no right to be this adorable" he whispers with a husky voice as he pulls you on his lap. Kissing your lips ardently his fingers already unbutton your blouse. "Say that again, luv" he smiles at your lips. "And then I'll make sure you won't ever forget that you are MY adorable girlfriend" he breathes at your skin as his lips travel from your jaw to the neck.

Le Comte

Comte seems to be always so calm and thoughtful, but when it comes up to you all this is nothing but dust in the wind. He waited for you and your love for centuries, now that you are his he's confronted with the deepest fear of loosing you.

Also he is insecure inside, thinking he doesn't deserve someone so precious like you (are you surprised?). This uncertainty is more fuel to the fire of the jealousy that rages in his heart.

Despite his always graceful and sublime conduct le Comte is very passionate and possessive. He can't bear another man touching you, even it is only your hair. On the other side he wants you to live freely, interacting with the other residents as usual. So he would get jealous real quick, but:

Wearing a mask of gentlemanly behavior and used to lock up his feelings you wouldn't notice his jealousy until it's "too late". Maybe it was only you and Leonardo in the library, sticking heads together and giggling about something. Maybe it was a stranger at the market, picking up an apple for you that dropped to the floor, holding your delicate hand while putting the apple into it.

When he corners you after that in his room, there'll be no escape. Le Comte will make sure that you're his, taking possession of your body and mind until there is nothing left but thinking of him and moaning his name. He will only stop when you pass out due to the overwhelming passion.

Le Comte cocks slightly an eyebrow due to the sight that is presented to him in the library. Arthur stands in front of the bookshelfs, carrying you bridal-style. "What happened?" he asks with honest concern. "Oh, our pretty dove wanted to spread her wings. I catched her as she fell from the ladder" Arthur replies lighthearted. "Luv, if you want my touch so bad, all you have to do is ask. You don't have to risk your health to get it" smirking he looks deep in your eyes. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you hit him at his shoulder. "Put me down, Arthur!" With a wry chuckle he lets you go, giving le Comte an amused sideways glance. "Okay, my performance as a hero is over, back to work then." With these words Arthur leaves the library and you exhale, looking concerned over to the pureblood. "You know that it was only an accident? I feel a bit embarrassed and.." Le Comte cuts you off, smiling gently.

"Ma cherie, don't worry. I understand what happened, everything is fine."

With a relieved smile you pick up the dropped books "I should have known, that something stupid like this doesn't concern you..."

You hear a sharp inhale and look up. His expression is serious, his eyes burn like melting gold in a furnace. Approaching you with slow, predatory steps he asks softly "When did I say I don't care?"

With a fluid move he pins you against the bookshelf, kissing you senseless. You both pant for air as he breaks the kiss. "I await you in my room. Now. Your chores are done for today." Comte leaves you with trembling legs.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it 💝

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It's Just a Movie: Part 16 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader) fic

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Warnings: cursing, descriptions of blood/violence, child injury (a la Interview With a Vampire), angst

Word Count: 2563

Star was growing more miserable by the minute. She'd been a runaway, and she was happy to stay at the cave. Until she noticed that she was beginning to change. You had no choice but to watch her go through it, but you found that the boys didn't haze her nearly as harshly as they'd hazed Michael. You didn't know if it was because you were there to witness it, or because Michael had been a special case.

Either way, they still took her out one night, and you were tasked with staying at the cave, at home, until they returned. They were all a bit giddy, either with the idea of a bigger feast than normal or the nervous energy running through all of them. Paul was practically bouncing off the walls before he left, and he stole a sloppy kiss right in front of the brunette. Star had already become semi-accustomed to the relationship you had with all of them, including the platinum haired blonde, and you did your best to not be jealous as David kept up with the plot of the movie. He only barely flirted with her, enough to give her an idea, and the three others made sure you didn't notice David's absence. Well, Paul could probably do it completely by himself. 

Still, you caught her looking at the way Paul cupped your face in his large hands, bending over from his standing position so he could meet where you were curled on the couch. He practically trapped you back against it, and you knew that if you were to tangle your hands into his blonde locks he might decide to ditch the feast altogether. You almost wanted him to. You tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth, earning a surprised noise from him. A smile bloomed over his face as he pulled away, excitement swirling in his eyes. To your surprise, he said,

"Catch ya later, doll-face." Before he was whooping and hollering, bounding up the steps. Marko stopped to kiss you before he followed. It was just a quick peck so he wouldn't fall too far behind the other blonde, but far more sweet than the others had been. He gave your cheek a pinch, and he walked backwards as he gave you a mischievous smile. The way his lips curled distorted his angelic face, making it appear devilish in the fire-light. His fingers gave you an all too familiar wave.

"Goodnight, y/n." He teased, and you sent him a small glare. You called,

"Be good!" As he bounded up the rock wall to follow the tallest of the blondes. He cackled in response, and you knew that he had no intention of listening to you. You sighed, but Dwayne was quick to steal your attention. 

He, being the tallest, didn't even try to bend down to meet you. He simply sat besides you, one of his hands going to your lap to take one of yours. You supposed that all your boys could read you like a book, but Dwayne had a weird way of always knowing what you were thinking. You gave his hand a squeeze and let a small sigh escape your lips, letting your head fall on his shoulder. The hand not intertwined with yours curled around your jaw, massaging it lightly as if to massage away the inkling of doubt circling inside your mind.

"We'll be back soon." He said, but you avoided his eyes. You played with his fingers, a thought floating around your mind. When you looked at him, you knew he could see it clearly. You could stay. You thought, but Dwayne only gave you a sympathetic smile. He pressed a small kiss to your lips, and then one to your hairline. The actions spoke clearly, You know I can't. And you stopped yourself from letting out another sigh as he went to stand. He kissed the back of your hand before he let go, and you watched his tall form climb up the rocky entrance in a couple of well-placed lands of his feet.

The last was David. Most of the past week had been spent entertaining the other girl of your group, but it felt like an eternity. His ocean blue eyes claimed yours when you looked at him. You stood to meet him, and one of his gloved hands cupped your chin. You stared at him, silent words passing between the two of you. 

They already knew what to expect. They'd take Star to see what she was, she would refuse to eat, and then she'd probably end up taking some time for herself. Since this was the only place she could dodge the sleepiness the sun would settle on her, they knew she'd be back by morning. 

You looked away for a moment, catching eyes with the girl that stood by the fountain. She looked confused, interested, as if she was trying to catch whatever was passing between the two of you. Between all five of you. Your eyes flicked away and, on instinct, you reached up to touch David's cheek with the back of your hand. It was a simple graze, but it made him close his eyes for a moment. It spoke exactly what you needed to hear. David missed you just as much as you missed him, and, hopefully, in a few weeks they wouldn't have to worry about Max, the Frogs, Star, or the Emerson's anymore. He moved his head to kiss the back of your fingers before you retracted your hand, and then he said,

"You'll be fine." It was as affectionate as he'd been the past few days, being purposely vague and colder for the sake of listening ears. That was all he could promise, you knew. No matter how this went, you'd be fine. He gave your chin a squeeze, and then he was retracting his hand. You went to touch where his hand had been as he turned away, beckoning to the brunette with a simple gesture of his hand, and the two of them climbed up to where the others were. Leaving you safe, but wondering.

They returned a few hours later, with nothing much to tell. It had gone as expected, yet the rejection still seemed to weigh heavily on them. The five of you took the time to relax around the cave, now that there were no prying eyes or anyone to suspect anything. You sat in David's lap, playing with his fingers as he stroked your neck. You listened to his breathing, leaning up to brush your lips against his neck. You could practically feel the way he smiled, his hand smoothing over your hair as he pulled you tighter. Though, when you heard a clatter from above, David helped you stand from his lap and you went to Markos arms instead. You didn't know what you expected when Star came back, but the sight of her bloody and carrying a body in her arms wasn't it. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, and both David and Dwayne lifted to their feet in less than a second.

"What did you do?" David snapped, almost without a thought. They moved quickly, crossing the distance between her and them without pause. Marko, without thinking, moved you so you were behind him. He blocked you with his body, keeping you out of reach and out of sight. David and Dwayne were by the brunette girls side in less than a second, with Paul standing close but away from the smell of blood. You watched as David peeled the body from her arms, as he was always able to control himself the best. And Dwayne's mouth opened in shock as looked down at the body. Her words seemed to fall deaf on Dwayne's ears as she gripped his jacket, but you heard them all too well.

"I didn't- Please, god, help him. He's just a boy. I didn't mean- Please, help him, David." She shrieked, turning her attention to the blonde. David stared at the broken body in his hands, quickly telling her to,

"Shut up." Before he looked at Dwayne for just a fraction of a moment. Dwayne pulled himself out of Stars grip, taking long strides as he rushed past where you and Marko stood. You stared at Star, seeing the blood decorating her face, neck, and chest. As if she had tried to wipe it away with not much success. Then, you let your eyes flick to the body in David's arms. You couldn't see his face, but you could see his light brown hair. Long and splayed against the black of David's coat. You gripped Markos arm almost painfully, but neither of you could pull your eyes from the sight. Dwayne returned with a bejeweled bottle, and you caught Dwayne's arm without thinking. Quickly, you said, 

"Dwayne, he's-" But Marko pulled your arm away from the brunette, letting him resume his quickened pace and cutting you off. Dwayne walked away without so much as a glance, and had never been cold to you before. But Marko was stealing your focus before you had time to dwell on it. He turned away from the sight, acting as a block from the view instead of a block from just the threat Star posed. He took your face into his hands, quickly whispering,

"If we don't, he's going to die." Marko whispered, but Star obviously still heard him from the audible slap that came from her hand covering her mouth. She sobbed, and you saw out of the corner of your eye how Paul moved then. He pulled Star to his chest, pulling her away from David and Dwayne as they did what they inevitably had to do. You tried to argue with the blonde in front of you. Sure, none of you knew how Laddie would be turned, but it wasn't supposed to be like this. Marko smoothed his hands over your cheeks and said, "His heart is slowing. She took too much blood. He won't make it to the hospital." As tears gathered in your eyes. You stomped your foot in a feeble attempt at protest, but Marko was wrapping his arms around you and hugging you.

You didn't see them give Laddie the wine, but you could hear the way Star protested. The way she cursed the boys for making her what she was. How she struggled against Paul's iron grip hold. Blamed them for her attack of the boy in David's arms. Marko jolted you as he whipped his head around, snapping,

"You're the one that attacked him, Star. So, watch your fucking mouth." He snarled, and Star practically shrunk into the other blonde. Before he could say anything else, you placed a hand on his chest and whispered his name. He frowned at the girl, but turned his attention away from her to look where you were staring.

Marko had pulled away only a bit, but it gave you enough of a view to see the tallest of the blondes. He was staring ahead, at what you assumed was the sight of Dwayne and David doing their best to rescue the little boy the only way they knew how. His face was blank, and he held the brunette tightly. Rubbed Stars back almost absently. Like his thoughts were far off elsewhere.

Everyone was silent after Star stopped, opting to sob into Paul's shoulder. There was a long moment, and Marko turned so the both of you could see the little boy. He was still mostly hidden from the way David held him, only really able to see the top of his head and David's back. Both of the boys were on their knees, with Dwayne in full view. The bottle was in his hands, and he was gripping it almost tight enough to shatter. Finally, there was a little cough from the otherwise silent boy, and a blanket of relief seemed to settle over the room. David traded the boy for the bottle, and Dwayne had his eyes set on the couch. Both you and Marko moved to let him through, and the pair of you watched as he set him as gingerly as he could on the cushions. Dwayne brushed his hair from his face and Paul appeared from the side, a blanket in his arms. Dwayne took it without a word, the blonde being eerily just as silent. He set it gently on top of the boy, tucking him in as lightly as he could. Paul backed away, moving to stand on your other side. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you reached up to give it a small squeeze. The three of you watched, and none of you noticed the way David approached Star.

With the bottle no longer in his hands, he approached her as calmly as he could. She was still sniffling, but she swiped his hand away when he went to reach for her. Still, he grabbed her wrist.

"What happened?" He demanded, and Stars looked away as new tears threatened to spill over. Davids threw her wrist away, grabbing her shoulders. Forcing her to look at him. "Star. Tell me." He said, and Star couldn't help the stream of tears.

"No one saw you." He said, covering up his reasoning for asking. David sighed. "This is your fault Star, so he's your responsibility. Got it?" He said, his words like ice. You looked over, finally being able to draw your eyes from the slowly recovering boy. From how Dwayne was gently cleaning him. Long enough to see how she nodded, before wiping her eyes and retreating to her room.

"I- I ran away and went- went farther down the beach. He was all alone. His parents- I saw them walk away and I didn't- I didn't think. I just acted." She said, and a wave of relief relaxed his hold. He let her go, lightly pushing her away. She hadn't killed his parents. Hadn't attacked anyone else. While it wasn't for lack of trying, she hadn't killed anyone. She was still a half. Their plan could still work.

Your eyes returned to the boy again when he whined, and Dwayne was quick to shush him. He stroked his face for a moment, and Paul left your side to sit on the arm of the chair, perching himself above him. He smiled down at the little kid, saying,

"Hey, bud. You're gonna be okay, okay? Just chill out and let Dwayne take care of you. Cool, man?" He said, as the child tried to blink away the pull of unconsciousness. Whether that was from the effect of the wine or of the blood loss, you couldn't tell. You rarely got to see the boys use their abilities, but you watched as David walked over and pressed a hand on Laddies forehead. He murmured the word, 

"Sleep." And then he pulled away. You saw how Laddies head rolled light to the side, and Dwayne only left momentarily to come back. He was ripping a shirt to shreds, and Paul started to whine,

"Dude, that's my-" Only to be silenced by a single glare from Dwayne. Quickly, he grumbled, "Nevermind." And moved as Dwayne leaned over the boy to bandage him up and stop him from losing anymore blood. 

[downwiththeficness]

The Guarantor-Chapter 2

Summary: Frankie went to work every day knowing that there would be an end. A deadline. Reconnecting with her adoptive father, Godric, throws that deadline into question. Teaming up with Godric’s child, Eric, obliterates it entirely. With an uncertain future ahead, Frankie has to learn if she can trust the people around her, let alone herself. Eric Northman/Bisexual!Fem!OC

Word Count: ~4200

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, gore, blood drinking

Taglist: @mousee555

A/N: This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

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Frankie sat on the bed of the hotel room, hands pressed deeply into the mattress. After several days sleeping in her car, it was nice to have a small bit of comfort. As the sun went down, she’d showered and changed into a pair of jeans and the nicest shirt in her suitcase—a soft purple t-shirt.

To be fair, it was the nicest shirt she owned, full stop. After the incident two years previous, Frankie had stopped buying ‘nice’ clothes, stopped going out like she used to. There was no point. Not now, not for many years to come.

Her phone buzzed with a text: Hiding will do you no good. Come sit with me.

She sighed and pocketed the phone along with her key card, tapping the lights as she left the room. Godric was staying in a large penthouse suite, and Frankie was surprised to find that it was filled with people milling about. She recognized a few faces from the church along with some new, human faces.

Guard up, Frankie moved around the perimeter, looking for Godric.

She found him sitting in a smaller, more intimate room, his child kneeling at his feet. Frankie hesitated, not knowing if she might be interrupting a private moment. Eric was speaking to Godric in low tones, looking at him as if he’d hung the moon. Taking a step back, Frankie looked around the room, catching sight of a familiar head of blonde curls.

Sookie, beautifully dressed, smiled wide as she met Frankie’s eyes. Hurrying over, drink in hand, she continued to smile, all friendliness. Frankie returned the smile, a little afraid that Sookie might want a hug. She tucked her arms around her middle, hoping that she looked approachable, but not huggable.

“Hey,” Sookie called out, “Some party, huh?”

Frankie looked around, not necessarily agreeing. The parties she was used to, the parties she no longer went to, were raucous, hedonistic affairs that often resulted in a foggy memory and a hell of a hangover.

The voices around them were hushed, drinks held daintily, not a single keg in sight, “I guess its, uh, something.”

“Everyone is talking about how Godric got ousted as Sheriff,” Sookie continued, “I can’t believe they’d do that to him, you know? He was trying to help.”

Frankie’s brows rose in shock. Godric had been Sheriff for as long as she could remember. He didn’t talk much about vampire politics, but her general feel for his position was that he was pretty good at his job. He certainly felt like he was making a difference—slow progress, he’d said. She glanced involuntarily at him, catching his eye.

“I’m sure its a misunderstanding,” Frankie replied, just to have something to say.

Godric rose and approached, Eric following closely. Frankie tried to smile around her discomfort. She didn’t know anyone here that well, and couldn’t quite figure out how to act. The atmosphere in the room was confusing. Even though there was plenty of mingling going on, the people around Frankie felt so wrapped up in themselves that they stood, solitary, in the crowd.

“Heard you got fired,” she commented, acutely aware of Sookie taking a surreptitious sip of her drink in reaction to her brash words.

“It was the right thing. I deserved it,” Godric said, his hands coming up to come to cup her cheeks.

Covering his hands with hers, Frankie retorted, “No, you didn’t.”

Godric tilted his head to the side, “How do you know that?”

She shrugged, “How do I know the sun’s gonna come up? I just know.”

His face relaxed a little. She’d surprised him.

Then, he lowered his head and touched his forehead to hers, “My bright eyed child.”

It was an old nickname, one borne out of the way she hadn’t quite learned not to look at him directly. As a three year old, Frankie hadn’t quite developed a sense of danger. She sometimes wondered if she ever actually gained that particular skill, or if she’d just gotten better at dealing with the fallout.

“Oh, stop,” she griped, but she didn’t move, accepted the gesture of affection as she inhaled the scent of roses.

“I will not,” he pronounced, lifting his chin so that he could stare down his nose at him, “Be nice to me. I just got fired.”

“Alright,” she drawled, smiling, “Just for tonight.”

Her phone buzzed. She felt for it, tapping the button on the side to dismiss the call. Whatever was going on could wait. She was with family. It buzzed again. And again. Irritated, Frankie looked at the screen, feeling her stomach drop as she read the caller ID.

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” she said, heading for the balcony.

Frankie waited until she’d firmly closed the door behind her to accept the call, holding the phone to her ear and murmuring ‘hello’.

“You said you’d be back today,” Andrei accused, his words quick.

She closed her eyes against the sound of his accent. Andrei was a first generation Russian immigrant, pulled from his childhood home by his boss to work the east coast side of the business. He’d brought with him a sense of order, duty, and a shocking level of violence.

“I know,” Frankie replied. “I’m sorry.”

“When?”

When would she be back?

Frankie pushed down the sigh. She wanted to stay longer with Godric, wanted bask in his familiarity for a while before she went back to her real life and all the stress contained therein.

“A few days, I think. I’ll book my flight soon, okay?”

It wasn’t okay. She could tell in the way he wasn’t saying anything. If they were standing face to face, he’d be feigning interest in a nearby object, pretending the think about it.

“Soon, yes.”

It wasn’t a question. She had been given her orders.

“Soon.”

The line went dead. Frankie looked at the screen, biting her lip as she tried to work through her anxiety. The trip had not been planned, and she thought that she might get away with a few days before Andrei found out. They weren’t due for a delivery for two weeks. Carissa was great on the register, and Yuri had shown himself to be hard working. She really thought she might get away with it, damn it.

Frankie had been given a verbal warning, the next wouldn’t be nearly as polite.

Knowing that it was time to say goodbye, Frankie turned to head back inside only to run headfirst into a person. She yelped, stepping back quickly until the railing pressed into the small of her back.

“Sorry,” she said without thought, one hand up in front of her protectively.

“He’s never mentioned you,” Eric replied, nonsensically.

“What?”

“Godric has never said a single word about you.”

She frowned at him, “I’m...sorry?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding her with something like distaste, “You are his child, and he has said nothing about you.”

Reaching for any little bit of reason that might explain and then get her out of this conversation, Frankie said, “I’m not really his kid. He can’t—of course you know he can’t—but, he raised me. Sort of. For a while.”

Godric had been her father until she turned sixteen, until he’d found someone who might be able to care for her into adulthood. It was a move that she’d never understood, and it had driven a wedge between them that remained even now.

Especially now.

Eric, for his part, looked unsatisfied, “How did you meet?”

Frankie shook her head, avoiding his eyes, “I don’t know. He’s always been there.”

This was almost a lie. Frankie didn’t remember how they’d met, but he’d told her the story. She was glad that her first memories of him were less fraught with danger.

Crossing his arms, Eric regarded her with a face of stone, “You’re not his type.”

At this, Frankie found her mouth turning down in disgust, “Ew, no.”

Her phone buzzed again, a text from Andrei: Soon.

She had to go. She really, really had to go.

Jaw working, Frankie tried to angle around Eric, her hand reaching for the handle of the sliding glass door, “I need to be getting back inside.”

She’d just managed to get between him and the door, when a sound hit her—no, not a sound, a force. It pushed her physically back and into the brick wall of a body behind her, swiftly followed by the sharp pain of glass cutting into her skin.

Blinking, Frankie tried to get her mind around why she was being held up, why she couldn’t get her feet underneath her. Screams rang in her ears. Looking down, she saw a pair of arms holding her around her middle that were too pale to be hers. Catching her balance, she patted them, asking non-verbally to be released.

Her throat hurt, her side hurt, her head hurt. Reaching up, she touched at her neck, flinching as a fresh wave of sensation rose up in response. Her fingers came away coated in blood. Walking carefully over the shattered doorway, Frankie spotted a mirror, her eyes widening in fear.

A shard of glass had embedded itself in her throat, blood flowing freely from the wound. It had missed her windpipe, she could still breathe, but there was no way to tell if it had nicked either of the major arteries. Only a faint memory of high school First Aid kept her from attempting to pull the glass free. It might be the only thing keeping her alive.

Looking down, she found another shard sticking out of her side. Her jeans and t shirt were dotted with blood. She had to get help, didn’t know how long she’d remain conscious. Blinking away tears, she looked for Godric.

He was staring at the devastation, his expression a little bit lost. People were crying out, several were laying dead. Blood was splattered everywhere, coagulating in ash. Her vision blurred, and she dropped to a knee.

“Godric!”

She was surprised to hear Eric calling out, surprised that he was still following her. Frankie had just enough energy to look up (and up) at him in confusion. He wasn’t paying attention to her, his eyes were elsewhere.

Hands lifted her, folding her into a hard embrace. Roses. Godric.

He walked two steps, paused, and called back, “Son, come!”

Her vision blurred again, and when it cleared Frankie found herself laying on a high table, staring up at the elegantly textured ceiling of the smaller room Godric had been sitting in when she’d arrived.

His face wavered in front of her, “Focus, Francesca. I’m going to pull the glass free and give you my blood to close the wounds. Its going to hurt, and for that I am sorry.”

Frankie didn’t have the energy to say anything. What she did have the energy to do was yell hoarsely when the first shard was removed from her side, her hands moving automatically to cover the wound.

Godric pushed them away, making a sound of censure, “Eric, pressure.”

Another set of hands pushed into her side, holding the bleeding at bay as Godric gingerly touched her jaw, turning her head to the side. She felt herself begin to cry—out of pain, out of exhaustion, out of fear, she couldn’t parse the reason.

“Breathe,” Godric said, and pulled.

She couldn’t. Frankie couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t draw in air. Her body arched up, pain overcoming every sense until she was blind with it. Her hands curled into fists at her side, muscles quivering with the exertion.

“Drink,” Godric ordered.

She could smell copper, could taste it, but couldn’t not force herself to swallow. Her throat wouldn’t open. Frankie heard him give the order again, heard him draw out her name in frustration.

“For fuck’s sake,” Eric said roughly.

Her nose was pinched, the lack of air increasing in pressure until she had to swallow just to keep conscious. Godric held his wrist over her mouth until the wound closed, and then he bit into it and did it again. The pain receded the smallest bit. She could see the two of them hovering over her, could feel Eric let go over her nose and, oddly, brush his fingers over her cheek.

Godric had never fed her his blood, not like this. There had been skinned knees, scrapes, bumps, and cuts, that he’d healed periodically. But, that had stopped when she was no longer a child. She knew that blood was something that he held sacred. That he was doing so now told her just what kind of shape she was in.

Removing his wrist, Godric looked her over. Wordlessly, he reached over and took Eric’s free hand, setting it over her healing neck.

“I need to check the others. Keep contact with the wounds. I’ll come back with towels.”

And then he was gone.

Frankie lay there for a few longs seconds, swallowing down the taste of Godric’s blood. She could feel it working through her system, could feel the rush of adrenaline. Eric’s hands on her were heavy, the contact sending tremors through her nerves. Even her own clothes on her body felt like too much stimulation.

Pushing onto an elbow, she tried to pull away from it, “Its okay. I’m okay now.” Blood was still dripping from her wounds, but the flow was substantially slower. In a few minutes, it would probably stop completely. “You can let me go.”

“I can’t,” he deadpanned, and she thought she caught a resigned sigh.

“You can,” she assured him, “Its almost stopped.”

Eric shook his head, “Godric’s orders.”

Frankie blinked at him, taking her time with processing that statement, “Oh.”

He inhaled again, eyes closing briefly. He was standing next to the table, his greater height helping him to lean over her in a way that would have been intimidating if she hadn’t just had a significant dose of his Maker’s blood.

Relaxing in his hold, Frankie tried to think of something to say, wanting to break the awkward feeling in her belly. Inhaling, she found herself noting a strong scent of jasmine. She looked around, wondering if she’d displaced a floral centerpiece. All the plants in the room appeared to be of the ficus variety, no blooms.

In her confusion, she didn’t catch what he said as he leaned closer to her.

“What?”

Eric was looking at her with suspicion, and Frankie forgot to not look him in the eyes, “You smell good.”

Jaw tilting down, she dismissed it, “I probably smell like Godric.”

The shake of his head dislodged a lock of hair, the blond tress falling over furrowed brows, “No. I noticed before, at the church.”

At the time, Frankie hadn’t showered in days, probably smelled of sweat and gas station food. Far be it from her to question a vampire’s sense of smell, but there were some serious doubts.

Shifting his grip, Eric helped her to sit up, supporting her as she regained her bearings. When she tried to swing her legs over the side of the table, he made a soft sound in the negative.

“Not until Godric gets back.”

“I’m fine,” she countered, not liking how warm his hands had gotten from holding them against her body.

Eric’s expression was firm, and she knew without having to think about it that he wasn’t going to let her move another inch. She tried not to pout. Instead, she asked a question.

“What happened?”

Eric’s shoulders lifted a fraction, “Bomb. Some idiot trying to prove a point.”

She nodded, “Glad I was outside.”

He looked down at her, annoyed, “You had your throat cut wide open.”

The vampire had a point.

“Better than being blown to bits.”

“I suppose.”

She watched him, watching her, noted his distraction. When his head dropped a little, she leaned back, a question in her gaze.

“You smell good,” he repeated, moving further into her space.

Frankie jumped when she felt his tongue run along her collarbone, following a trail of red. She jumped again when he licked a long, cool path up towards where he was holding her wounded throat. Any further distance she tried to put between them was stopped by an iron grip that held her still. A small sound of fear escaped her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he breathed against her skin, pulling deep breaths in through his nose.

“I don’t know that,” she replied, voice soft.

The way he was holding her, the angle, left her nose inches from his hair. All she could smell was jasmine, and it struck her that the scent was coming from him. Frankie had a short moment of ‘huh’ before her skin lit up with the feeling of his mouth licking intently.

Hands grabbing at his wrist, his shoulder, she bit out, “What are you doing?”

Mouth against her, his words were slurred as he said, “Taste good.”

It was such an odd feeling, someone licking at her skin, trying to get at every drop of her spilled blood. Odd, but not unpleasant. Every sense seemed to be heightened, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. The room was bright despite the lack of light, she was overwhelmed by his scent.

Kneeling down, Eric nosed along the hem of her shirt, pushing it up so that he could suck at the sticky, wet, mess below where the glass had been stuck in her side. One hand remained on her throat, his arm extended as he collected as much of her as he could while still obeying Godric’s directive.

Her body shuddered, electric feeling running up and down her spine. She couldn’t differentiate between how Eric was making her feel and the effects of his Maker’s blood. Sensation after sensation swirled together until her head tilted back, until her eyes closed in surrender.

Rising, he eased her down, his mouth painted bright red. She could see his fangs peeking out from between his lips. His eyes were laser focused and bright. In a movement too fast to see, Eric was suddenly crouched over her, his hands pulling her into an elongated arch.

The pain of the bite forced a broken squeak from her, her jaw clenching against the unfamiliar feeling. She gripped his shirt, weakly trying to fight. When he drew down that first full swallow, her muscles jerked, heat traveling outwards from the bite. He groaned, a harsh sound that resonated with pleasure. The sound did strange things to her insides, adding to her already flustered state.

She might have said his name, but couldn’t be sure of her voice. Her entire existence swirled with unidentifiable emotions that swung wildly from one extreme to the next. He swallowed again, and again, the feeding growing deeper. Soft sounds vibrated against her neck and chest, a kind of happy chuffing.

He was thrown from her into the bookcase, the wood splintering. Eric landed hard on the floor, eyes wild. Above her, Godric fumed. He was holding several neatly folded towels in his hands.

“That was unwise.”

Eric rose, licking his lips greedily, “She tastes like…”

The paused was long, his words trailing off in either confusion or awe. Frankie couldn’t tell which.

“Sunshine?” Godric offered, his voice cutting. “Yes, I know.” Then, to Frankie, “Are you alright?”

“Uh huh,” she answered, even though she wasn’t quite sure.

Godric threw down the towels and helped her from the table. Then, he lead her into one of the back rooms. She didn’t have to look to know that Eric was following.

“What is she?”

Godric eased Frankie down on the bed, touched her cheek, “I’ve always considered her a gift.” He looked to his son, “You should sit. It’ll start soon.”

Eric’s head drew back for a second before his face crumpled in pain. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. She could hear the scream he was biting back and she wondered if she should feel bad for him. His body lurched forward until he lay prostrate on the floor, his face smashed into the tasteful carpet.

Godric watched sympathetically, his eyes sliding over to Frankie, “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, hand touching at the bite. It was already closing, a boon granted to her by Godric’s blood.

On the floor, Eric twitched. She stared at him, wondering if she’d poisoned him with her blood. Flinching, she drew back as he lifted up to rest on his heels, his chest expanding with a huge, loud breath. He wobbled, looking confused, his hand resting on the center of his chest.

Godric took a step forward and dropped down next to Eric, “Feels good, doesn’t it? Your heart beating in your chest, your lungs filling with cold air.”

Eric blinked rapidly, frowning as he tried to get a handle on what was going on. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back, hips pushing forward. Frankie had to look away, embarrassed at the growing erection in his pants. She pointedly ignored the salacious moan and the way she could see him press his hand between his legs in her periphery.

“That, too,” Godric said, laughing as he stood, “Better than you’ve ever felt, will ever feel again.”

Eric pitched forward again, his weight resting on his spread fingers as he worked to catch his breath. Frankie wrapped her hands around her stomach, unable to keep her eyes from his writhing body. Muscle flexed and rolled, his head hanging low, sounds that she’d never heard come out of any living thing working their way past his lips.

It seemed like it took an eternity for him to calm, to set himself back on his heels. He stared at her, hungry.

Godric stood next to him, touching Eric’s golden head, “You will not do that again.”

Frankie had never seen anyone look so put out in her entire life. He was half a second away from sticking his lower lip out and crying.

Godric, in all his majesty, clarified, “Not without her permission. Do you understand?”

Eric nodded eagerly, his eyes moving to where Frankie was still sitting on the bed, “How is this possible?”

Dropping his hand, Godric gave an elegant shrug, “I don’t know. I have expended a significant amount of energy since she was a child trying to find out. And, trying to protect her from what you just did.”

Eric had the good grace to look remorseful. Frankie almost felt bad for him, but cut the feeling short when he looked up at her from beneath repentant lashes. The hunger in his gaze had returned, and it was then that Frankie knew she was in some deep shit.

“What is this?” Eric asked, his hand touching his chest. “My heart…”

“You live,” Godric said, as if he were sorry to say it, “For a short time. Your heart will beat, your lungs will draw breath, you’ll sleep, you’ll walk in sunlight.”

At this Eric’s face opened up in surprise. Frankie also found herself surprised. Not so much about what Godric had said, but at how expressive Eric looked. She realized how in control he was, how carefully neutral he kept his expressions. The way he looked now took centuries off, made him look boyish and young.

Godric touched Eric’s shoulder, “A short time, a few days. And then you’ll become yourself again.”

Head jerking to the side, Eric looked at Frankie, a hint of fear in his eyes.

Godric sighed, “Can you see why I wanted to protect her for so long?”

Eric chose his words carefully, “I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You will tell no one about this. Not one single person. Never.”

Frankie felt the knot in her chest unwind a bit. Godric had ensured two things would follow this interaction—Eric would not force a bite, and he would not put her in further danger.

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night,” Godric announced.

Standing, Frankie took the unspoken directive for what it was, intending to head back to her room. Godric stopped her briefly, kissing the top of her head and fixing her with a soft look. As she passed Eric, his arm lifted to bar her path.

He dipped his head, eyes dropping to the floor, “I apologize.”

Frankie glanced at Godric, not sure how to react. He was watching them with an inscrutable expression, giving her no direction whatsoever.

“Its okay,” she said, eventually. “You didn’t kill me, so let’s count that as a positive. We both know better, now.”

Eric’s eyes lifted, then fell to her neck, and Frankie had to stop her hand from slapping against the skin to cover the still aching bite. Catching the pads of two fingers against his fangs, Eric went to press them against the puncture marks, pausing.

Frankie, noting that he was asking to heal the wound he’d made, tilted her head to the side in silent acquiescence. He touched it, rubbing gently. In a few hours, it would be like nothing ever happened.

Almost.

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 21

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Nan Flanagan

A/N: *looks at Godric suspiciously* He's up to something.

***

When you woke you found yourself in bed, laying between two vampires who were quite literally dead to the world. Despite that, you felt safe and loved. You smiled and took the opportunity to do inventory of your injuries. You seemed to be fully healed. At the very least you were a damn sight better than you’d been when you passed out. You spared a second to wonder if you would have survived had Godric not been there to give you his blood.

You turned to face the vampire in question to find him laying so he faced you. You trailed a finger down his face to trace his profile. A ghost of a smile curved his lips. It must be nearly sundown which meant you needed to get ready for the night.

You climbed over Eric to get out of the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek on your way by. His hand brushed your leg. A glance at the clock confirmed that sunset wasn’t far off. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand where it was charging and headed into the bathroom to clean up. You scrolled through the texts from your father as you turned on the shower so it would warm up. “Shit,” you said as you read his latest text. Nan Flanagan would be here within the hour. God, you hated that bitch. Your father called her a necessary evil.

You responded to let him know that you were awake and healed. You also provided a summary of the events and who was responsible before Nan got his ear. After tossing your phone on the counter, you climbed into the shower and scrubbed yourself clean which took longer than you liked. Only when the water ran completely clear did you shut it off. When you got out, you wrapped yourself in one of the robes on the back of the door.

The bed was empty when you opened the door to go back into the bedroom. You quickly dressed in a pair of black jeans with a red top and your boots. You fixed your hair as best you could without drying it. You simply didn’t have the time. When you left the bedroom, you found Eric and Godric both waiting for you along with breakfast.

Eric was by your side in a flash. “How are feeling?”

“Good, thanks to the both of you.” You hugged him and gave him a quick kiss before releasing him to eat.

“Hello, Godric,” you greeted with a smile. He merely smiled in return. “When are we meeting with Nan?”

“How did you…your father,” Eric said. “Ten minutes.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here. Don’t tell her.”

“Are you not planning on attending?” Godric asked with a frown.

“Oh, I am, but if she realizes I’m there she’ll be on her best behavior. I’d rather catch the bitch causing trouble.”

Eric chuckled. “Should I even ask how you intend to keep her from seeing you?”

You pursed your lips. “Probably not.” You finished your breakfast and ducked back into the bedroom to grab your necklace. You slipped it on and smiled at the other two. “All right. Just don’t talk to me until I speak and we might be good to go.”

The amulet you wore had been gifted to you by a witch. It didn’t disguise you or anything, it simply made it more likely you’d be overlooked. The three of you arrived at the room where the meeting would take place. You stood along the wall in the shadows and kept your head down. Sure enough, Nan came into the room and her gaze moved right over you without pausing.

You smirked and pulled out your phone to hit record in case there was an issue later. Nan lied like it was crucial to her survival. Your father claimed that’s what made her so good at PR. He probably had a point. She didn’t give anyone a chance to say anything before she started in.

“Do you have any idea of the PR mess you’ve created? And who has to clean that shit up? Me. Not you. Me. I should drain everyone of you bastards,” she spat out. You rolled your eyes. As if she had the authority.

“Stan acted on his own. None of us had anything to do with the attack on the church,” Eric said.

“Oh, yes, because no one could have possibly predicted that Stan Baker would attack humans. Especially not his nest mates.”

“And how were we supposed to know that this time he meant it?” Isabel defended.

“Not my problem. Yours,” Nan said with a lifted brow and a glare at Godric.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the back of Nan’s head. Why was she always such a raging bitch? Couldn’t she talk to anyone with respect? And if she knew that Stan was a threat, why didn’t she take care of it? Her logic was flawed, as per usual.

Eric was apparently done with her shit as well. “Don’t talk to him that way.”

“Don’t talk to me that way. Do you enjoy being Sheriff? Because I can take it all away.” The arrogance in her voice pissed you off more than anything. Well, that and she was threatening your mate.

His lip curled in irritation. “You don’t have the authority.”

“I’m on TV try me.” She turned her attention to Godric. “How did they capture you?”

Godric’s gaze flicked to you and back to her. “They would have caught one of us eventually. I offered myself.” Oh, and didn’t that make your heart hurt. You suspected, but to hear him admit to it was too much. Eric’s face reflected your own thoughts.

“Why?” the bitch asked in disbelief.

“Why not?” your friend responded.

“They wanted you to meet the sun and you didn’t care?”

Godric simply stared at her without responding. Finally, Nan scoffed. “You’re fired.”

“You cold bitch,” Eric responded while Isabel tried to get Godric to fight for his position. You glanced at your phone and pressed an icon before sliding it back into your pocket.

“Listen, Viking—” she started until you stepped from the shadows and interrupted.

“Stan Baker was to blame for the attack on the church,” you said and Nan’s eyes went wide as she paled ever so slightly. Her gaze moved from you to where you’d been standing and back. She was wondering how the hell she had missed you being in the room. “He was killed in the subsequent attack on Godric’s private residence. The Authority was aware of the danger Stan posed and had already ordered his execution. The order unfortunately could not be carried out prior to the attack.”

Her jaw was tight and her eyes were cold. She didn’t like you any more than you liked her. “That’s your failing, not mine. Someone needs to take the blame and as Sheriff of the area, Godric is the best candidate.”

You took a step forward and narrowed your gaze. “You are a glorified mouthpiece. You don’t get to throw someone under the bus to make your job easier. The fucking humans don’t know about all this shit anyway. You’re supposed to find the truth, not make it up as you go along. You don’t get to decide if people live or die. You don’t get to threaten to take away someone’s territory for defending themselves or someone else. If you weren’t such a power hungry, raging bitch maybe they wouldn’t have to.”

“You don’t even work for the Authority anymore,” she said, but she sounded unsure. “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re not doing your job, Nan. I literally moved from area to area to make sure everyone was doing their job. What makes you think you can get away with it if no one else can? Because there’s no one to dispute you? No way for anyone to tell the Authority what you did? And if they could why would they believe them over you, right?” You pursed your lips in thought before shaking your head. “You’re abusing your position. That pisses me off. It pisses me off even more when you do it to my friends. So, here’s how this is going to go. Godric, without admitting any culpability, resigns his position as Sheriff and will be relocating to Louisiana. Isabel will take over as Sheriff. She’s level headed and had nothing to do with any of this.”

She stood then, fists at her sides as she glared at you. Eric and Godric both stood as well, taking position behind you and to either side. “Who do you think you are? You can’t dictate to me.”

The corner of your mouth lifted into a smirk as you pulled out your phone. “You’re absolutely right. But he can.” You handed her the phone and her face twisted into confusion. When your father started to speak her eyes darted back up to meet yours. She didn’t speak, only handing you the phone when she finished. You slid it back into your pocket.

Her eyes never left you though she spoke to the room as a whole. “Stan Baker is responsible for the attack on the church which caused the subsequent bombing. Godric holds no blame for any of the events that occurred. His resignation is accepted as is his relocation to Louisiana. Isabel Beaumont shall report to the king of Texas to be sworn in as the new Sheriff.”

She walked past all of you and out of the room. Once she was gone, everyone looked to you. Godric turned you to face him and laid a hand along the side of your face. “How did you accomplish that, little one?”

“I would like to know that as well,” Isabel echoed.

Eric smirked and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “She is Y/N. That is all you need know.”

[ginwhitlock]

summary: JASPER/ BELLA. set in eclipse (but is so far from canon honestly all you need to know is that victoria is after bella). When Jasper snatches Bella away to Texas to escape a vampire’s hunt for the girl who killed her lover, Bella comes clean about her hearts unfaithfulness on an unsettling summer morning, in front of God and everybody.

fic type: oneshot, no explicit scenes

warnings: religious guilt, Bella’s weird brand of horny, cheating on Edward, oh and Alice just doesn’t exist— don’t think about it too hard

There was this openness in the air, something stirring from the west, saturating the cotton fields. A yellow eyed barn cat stood still in the morning light, it’s black coat shifting with the bite of ghostly mice. Whiskers twitching. 

It was watching her, she was sure of it, like the pecan trees and the paddock mud and the mosquitoes. All beady-eyed and searching the brown haired girl, the one with crooked ankles and misaligned bangs that just barely kissed her cheeks in the late summer sun. She looked home grown. Wheat wild. A child of desert planes. And most importantly, she looked lost. 

“I thought you’d still be sleeping by now.” A hushed baritone slipped from the screen door, it’s owner donned in dark royal denim and loose leather. 

If it had been just months before, Bella would’ve rolled her eyes. 

But she was different now. As different as Washington was to Texas. As different as evergreens were to red oak. She swore even the sweat didn’t smell right. 

“Wanted to catch the sunrise.” There was a softness to her front teeth, the round of her molars quiet against one another. To whose ears she was catering to she didn’t know. And to be honest, she didn’t quite care anymore. 

Bella made out a lazy nod from her peripheral, the shaggy haired man seemingly relaxed out here on the front porch of her judgement day, all tan and tall and scented like rolled tobacco. 

Shut up, stupid girl. 

Jasper murmured out a response, something about humans needing sleep and southern sunrises being worthy enough to diminish the former from its place on his immortal pedestal. There was a creak and a groan from the haint green floorboards underneath her before she found herself shoulder to shoulder with the two hundred year old soldier; a stray wind had blown through the shaved baby blond hair lining his chin in the slightest of ways. There was a caution light screaming out from his stature and the brunette girl had the painful urge to swallow it under her teeth and tongue. Soak it in holy water and hide it in her skin for him to find. Or rather, Him, if this stay was going to end like she thought it ought to. 

He couldn’t feel that… could he? Stupid, stupid—

“The marigolds should be blooming about now, just west of the barn. They’re quite a bit prettier than Peter’s fields.” There was something off in the lit of his tongue, the way it flipped and rolled off his teeth. It came out… wrong. Forced. Like he was trying to be overtly kind. The way you talk to a frightened rabbit you clipped with the lawn mower. 

Bella frowned something deep and turned nose at Jasper. “Why did you bring me here, Hale?” 

With the question came a wince to his brow, a noticeable blow to his stature. He seemed to fold ever so slightly towards the young girl. 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” 

Silence filled the unwalled prison of the porch like nothing else, the birds and wind seemingly gone to rest whenever the two entered into each other's space. Like worldly magnets, chess pieces that threw blows instead of diagonals. The quiet held them both. It held them together. 

Bella Swan blinked slowly in an unknown apology before settling back on the blond with the stone facade. She waited for him to continue. 

He sighed. “It’s safer here. Victoria wouldn’t come this far south without encountering things far worse than the likes of Emmett or Rose.” 

“But this wasn’t Edward’s plan, was it?” Bella’s lashes were like rodeo announcers with their back and forth turns to the outlook of western Texas. 

Jasper looked every bit of his one hundred fifty years as he laid a freezing hand on hers, their knuckles slotting together with unpracticed ease. “No. But it’s mine. And you’re gonna have to accept that.” 

She refused to nod at the man with the thigh clenching, hard work mending, touch, for more than a second. She was far from the type of girl that would lay down and let the boys run out their wildest stupidities on her seemingly catastrophic life, but she felt almost resigned in Jasper's hands. There was a calmness between them she couldn’t place as artificial or not, the soft wool of contentedness slowly covering the surveyor-ship she felt stepping outside this morning. The stares of the flora and fauna turned internal. Fire burned in the pit of her stomach, on the nape of her neck, across the fragile skin of her cheeks where freckles started to show, and mostly, on the warming flesh of her hand where their hands met gently. 

Maybe it was Edward looking onto them from a frozen forest hundreds of miles from here as he hunted a scarlet monster, discovering the hidden plumpness swirling around in his lover's chest for the brother he always worried about, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Or maybe… 

“Jasper, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes were like serpents, glowing yellow under the copper wind chimes above them. 

“Whatever you wish, Isabella.” 

Swallow. Breathe. “When you were human… did you believe in God?” 

A pause sliced the air in two. The cotton plants seemed to stop swaying. The feline vanished. A golden eyebrow fell to his browbone. 

“Yes, Isabella. Yes I did.” His face was drawn, distant, like an old time movie screen was playing out on his stone eyelids. 

Bella’s lips pulled at themselves with her front teeth. “Do you think He’s vengeful?” 

Their eye contact sealed itself, his hand moving on its own accord up her hand to her wrist, cradling the small, delicate bones that allowed her to touch him— but not now. Not ever again. 

“When I was a boy, my mama took me to church every Sunday at seven A.M sharp, and sent me to Sunday school after the service. I was the oldest, even then, and I had more responsibilities than just listening to the preacher ramble on about divinity and charity and sacrifice.”

Jasper's face was taught with memory. 

“I had two baby sisters by the time I turned seven and they were the number one priority, you have to understand, Isabella. Ada and Caroline couldn’t have been older than three when the Leroy boy died sitting in the pew behind us… poor child got heatstroke in his wool britches and after that I started dressing the girls in the lightest things I could find and never waited long after the sermon to get back.” 

Bella turned stormy under the weight of the seemingly young man's words, her eyes dropping from his own to study the way his fingers wrapped around her skin like a life jacket, one part caregiver and one part destroyer. Jasper's own hands seemed to start to tremor just slightly under her stare, or maybe it was from the wash of his own words. 

He took a breath he didn’t need. “But. I started listening when my mother got sick, before the girls finished schooling. Started praying. A part of me was guilty that I hadn’t started before I needed something, that the reason I spoke to Him was for a favor, and a big one at that. I was making up for lost time, I thought. I was begging on my knees for anything. And I didn’t get it.

“They buried an empty coffin with my name on it under a white wooden cross after the army said I went missing. Caroline would plant violets around it in the spring, weed out the planters and start again in the fall. She’d leave me communion wafers in our family pew and have Ada try to talk with me through the minister.” 

“I’m so sorry.” A true sadness settled in her bones, her seemingly selfish desire to have the question answered sat like a heavy stone in the out of her stomach. Her heart held out a warm woolen space for him and she silently begged he would sit in it, for his own sake. 

He waved her off and took on a slight smile, something she had never seen from Jasper. Not in any capacity before that very moment. 

She decided she would try to see it every chance she got for as long as he’d let her. 

“I wasn’t a man of religious structure, Isabella, but. I was a man of faith. The small times I was allowed to watch over my sisters only reminded me of that, no matter how far down to hell I had reached, I still had faith in redemption.” 

His teeth clicked together not unpleasantly. “But I haven’t answered your question have I?” There was a knowing-ness in his voice box and Bella wanted to drink it down like communion wine. She smiled back slightly. 

He was beautiful when he sighed. 

“I’ve done horrible things. Killed innocent people. Slaughtered children and mothers and lambs of God. I have worn blood on my hands like a second skin and not once during any of it did I feel remorse. But darlin,” his lashes fluttered like leaves, “not once did I think God wanted me to hate myself for what I had done. I think… He forgave me a long time ago, before I ever forgave myself. So no. I don’t believe in my brother’s vengeful punisher. Not today. Not in this lifetime.“ She’d never hear the ‘not with you’ fragment he had stuck in his mind.  

She had to step back from him then, the vampire who had become all consuming to her chest and her heart and her fingers. The air was warmer in the space behind him but it almost didn’t matter, the warmth layering her skin was enough to burn through an air conditioning unit anyway. Bella’s hands found clumsy solace in her back pockets as she stared ahead at the rows of painful cotton buds waiting to be harvested. The blood almost pulled to her fingertips. 

Teeth and lips found each other. “I don’t think I’m not going to get punished for this.”

Her words were concrete. Cement. Blacktop on a Kansas back road. They could’ve cut glass if she wanted them to. They almost did as he looked at her. 

“For what, Isabella?” 

Knowing bastard. Always. Knowing. 

No trembling allowed now. 

“For wanting you when Edwards away. When he’s in the same room as us. When he’s hunting the woman who's trying to kill me and you’re just standing there telling me not to be afraid of my own horrible heart… for betraying everything I’ve begged for since me and your brother met. I deserve to get punished for this, don’t I? Don’t you think?” 

She was sweating now, cold droplets running down her back to her the soft slope of her ass. Her knuckles were popping against each other like fireworks and she thought she might faint right then and there, MONSTER written across her forehead in a bruise from the impact. 

A scarred hand felt itself into its place under Bella’s chin and forced her rocking skull to finally glimpse the face she had been thinking of every moment she pulled her eyes away. Jasper Hal— Whitlock? And his clear midnight pupils branding her soul in a sinner’s blush. His lips formed a wonderful crook as he slowly pushed her flat against the ancient siding of the old farmhouse belonging to his long standing brother who looked like everything Jasper was except for his spirit. 

She could die this way and she would face God with a smile. 

“What I feel for you deserves no punishment darlin, but if you insist, I think I’d rather do the punishing than any divine power.” 

His lips were light rosy steel against Bella’s own as the clouds started to stretch out infinitely behind his back, unnoticed by the interlocked couple in their wake. A soft moan escaped as felt the soft chill of a crucifix digging into her neck. 

Maybe God would forgive her for this. Just once.

[mctherofdragons]

In the Afterglow | 1 | F.W.

moodboard by @minty-malfoy​.

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Future Chapters will Feature Explicit Content

Trigger Warnings: Angst, alcohol, cussing, mild sexual content

Author’s Note: I want to start off by thanking @oh-for-merlins-sake​ for being my sounding board for the past several days as I’ve prepared this fic! Also, to @sunflwrnarry​ for giving me an opinion on whether or not to go ahead with penning this. I cannot tell you how much this idea lives in my head ABSOLUTELY rent free. This might be my favorite fic I’ve written to date. PS: I have a taglist! Let me know if you’d like to be added for this story, all Weasley twins content, or for all Harry Potter content. Thanks loves!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

August 15th.

Summer mornings always felt particularly comforting. However, the mornings spent on a beach vacation felt especially wonderful. Heading out onto the balcony, you smiled contently, taking a sip of the coffee you had just brewed. George, your husband, was inside still asleep. The night before had been quite tiring as you’d spent all day on the beach before returning to your hotel to play board games and drink. It was the annual vacation you, your husband, and his brother took. It provided days worth of laughter and a much longed for break from the daily grind of work. Occasionally, Fred would bring a lady friend along, but not this year.

You worked for the Ministry of Magic, using your academic skills to contribute toward the greater good of Wizarding society. Meanwhile, your doting husband and his brother worked tirelessly in their joke shop. They actually fared quiet well, despite never completing their classes at Hogwarts. George was able to spoil you to absolute bits. Your wedding had been charming, complete with a send off of blue butterflies before you entered the reception. Everything about your marriage to George was a fairytale.

You watched the waves lapping against the shore. The smell of sea salt and wet sand tickled your nostrils. You pulled your tan cardigan closer around your torso, noting that it was still chilly in the morning, despite it being August. The silence gave you time to reflect on the beauty of the past two years. It felt as though barely any time had passed since you kissed George at the altar, vowing your forever to him. You had developed a calm and comforting rhythm to your life together. It consisted of cozy mornings with your cold feet touching beneath blankets. Your nights would end with dinner together and then finding some sort of movie to watch. You never felt thrilled anymore, but in a way, that’s what you had always dreamed of.

Settling down comfortably in the deck chair, you opened up the novel you’d been reading. Just then, the deck door slid open and your husband walked out. His red hair was messy from sleep and his voice was still raspy, not yet fully adjusted to the morning. He bent to kiss you softly on the head.

“Morning, Mrs. Weasley,” he smiled, moving to lean against the balcony railing. He crossed his legs and took a sip from his coffee mug. His nickname for you always made you smile. You adored it, because you were still head over heels about the idea of being his wife. George was safe and strong. He loved you in the ways other men had failed to. His adoration was clear through bouquets of flowers that would show up on your work desk, lavish birthday presents, and the sweet nothings he whispered to you in bed. George was never pushy. He never spoke out of turn. In fact, you couldn’t even recall a time he had raised his voice at you. George was - as a husband - predictable.

“Mr. Weasley,” you chirped back, turning to the next page of your book. You two sat in silence for a while. George watched the waves crash into the shore, thinking to himself that this was bliss. Even if he wasn’t at the beach, he reasoned, it would be paradise because he was with you.

The sliding glass door opened again and Fred appeared. “Mornin!,” he announced, stretching.

Fred was quite the opposite of George in a number of ways. You knew of Fred’s romantic escapades, which often ended in him bedding girls in his flat. He sometimes had a short temper and still lived on the high of getting into bits of trouble - even as a grown man. His spirit was more untamed. Where George craved peace, Fred strived for adventure. You would be lying if you hadn’t sometimes thought about what Fred would be like as a lover. But then the guilt would hit you. He was your brother-in-law, for Merlin’s sake.

“How do you have this much energy in the morning?,” George chuckled, watching as Fred sat down in the other armchair.

“I just like the beach,” he shrugged, looking over at you. Placing your book onto your lap, you glanced over at Fred. His brown eyes twinkled back at you affectionately. You and Fred had always been close, even before you started dating George. It was Fred that you had befriended first at Hogwarts. But of course, where one Weasley was, there was the other. Fred was thrilled when you began to date George. He thought you were - as he put it - ‘a total fucking catch, George’. Fred had even helped George pick out your engagement ring. He was over the moon to have you as a permanent part of his life - for you to finally and officially be a Weasley.

You looked out at the beach, eager to get some sun and finish your book.

“Then, let’s go.”

_______________________________

George had made the choice to stay at the beach house, wanting to hit the golf course. He had begged Fred to join him, but his twin was craving some time in the sun and surf, so he declined. George grumbled a bit as he packed up his golf bag. He tried until the very last minute to get Fred to come play at least a round but it was to no avail.

You were lying on your back, trying your hardest to catch some color. The normally dreary days at home wouldn’t provide the tan you wanted. Fred was walking back up to your umbrella. He had gone down into the water for a while. You realized then that you probably should reapply your sunscreen, but couldn’t reach yourself.

“Hey, Freddie, can you get my back?” You had thought nothing of it. Fred had obliged, picking up the tiny bottle next to you.

Fred knelt down in the sand, sitting back onto his heels to keep from tipping other. He squirted a bit of the sunscreen into his palm, rubbing it together quickly to warm it up. You had to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep from gasping as you felt his calloused hands hit your bare back. He was being painfully slow, moving to massage the sunblock into your shoulders. The man’s concentration seemed to have drifted from assuring you didn’t get burnt to making you feel good. Fred kneaded a bit and that time you couldn’t resist, letting a tiny gasp escape your lips. It was painfully obvious that you had been wound up tight due to work and it felt incredible to feel your muscles loosen up.

Fred’s fingers danced beneath the strap of your bathing suit and you felt your heart rate quicken. He took a moment to run his finger across the thin, damp strap. You swore you heard his breath stop for a moment. You shook it off, assuring yourself it was you who was making this into something it wasn’t. Just then, he slid his hands down to the center of your spine before getting dangerously close to the elastic of your bikini bottoms. Neither of you were speaking, and for some reason, you felt a familiar feeling between your thighs. Shit, shit, shit, you thought. Thankfully your head was laying in your arms, face down, or else Fred would no doubt see you blushing.

“Okay that’s good, Fred, thanks,” you said quickly, moving so his hands were no longer on you. You couldn’t tell if the sun had reached its brightest point or if you were sweating because of your brother-in-law. But either way, you rolled back over to stand up, leaving Fred confused as you headed out toward the water to distract yourself.

•·················•·················•  •·················•·················•

October 31st.

George was standing up front at the cash register of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, counting the nightly deposit. Halloween was always a particularly busy day as both old and young wizards alike grabbed their last minute bits of mischief.

You were sitting in the back room, giving Fred your opinion on his Halloween costume.  Each year, the Weasley twins put on the best Halloween party, complete with costumes, outlandish decorations, and overflowing fire whiskey and butterbeer. Getting an invite to the Weasley Halloween Bash was something highly sought after. Therefore, the twins always made sure their costumes were up to snuff. Fred was close to you, showing off his ensemble for that night. A black velvet cape was draped over his shoulders, complete with a white button up shirt and black pants.

“What is it you’re supposed to be?” You cackled, adjusting the middle button on his shirt, which he had overlooked. Fred swallowed hard as your hands touched his abdomen. You noticed how as you laughed, your eyes locked on one another. You diverted your eyes quickly, cursing the butterflies that were some reason threatening to burst in your belly. The redhead stepped back a little, doing a little twirl so that his cape swooshed.

“A vampire!,” he sounded exasperated, using his hands to gesture to himself. You cocked your head to the side, figuring he just didn’t have the makeup or fangs on yet. It was decided in your mind that once that was all done, the costume would look much better.

“It looks great, Freddie,” you finally conceded and he grinned.

“I’m going to vuck your vlood,” Fred joked, wiggling his fingers as he leapt closer to you. You shrieked, jumping back as he attempted to begin tickling you. Once you had both stopped giggling, Fred began to speak again.

“What are you and George going as?”

“Pirates,” you said excitedly, clapping your hands together. Fred rolled his eyes.

“I know you picked that out.” “I always pick. George is horrible at decision making, and if I’m being honest, his ideas are sometimes quite stupid.”

The bells on the back door jingled as George entered. “Oy, we getter get going if we want to set up for tonight,” he said to you, coming over to wrap his arms around your waist. A smile graced your lips as he planted a loving kiss on your cheek. He smelled like warm cinnamon - the perfect addition to fall.

_______________________ 

 You descended down the stairs, your heels clicking with each step. Fred was at the bottom of the stairs, busying himself with filling a tray up with some sort of side dish. He heard you coming and turned, his jaw going slack.

You were wearing black fishnets complete with thigh high leather boots. Your dress was candy apple red with a tight black corset. It left little to the imagination as it showed off the perfect teasing amount of cleavage and sat just below your bum. The look was complete by a black pirate’s hat and flawless makeup, which you were certain to spend at least an hour on. You had taken the time to curl your h/c hair as well, which lay perfectly on your shoulders.

“Aye, aye, captain,” George gawked, coming around the corner. His costume was a little less detailed, but none the less fitting to match yours. You giggled as he swept you up in his arms, giving you a few kisses on your face. “Please make me walk to plank tonight,” he whispered in your ear, giving your lobe a little nibble. You giggled, pushing him off a bit. “Now, now, sailor. We have company,” you gestured to Fred, who appeared to be blushing redder than your dress. You ignored it, pushing back any thoughts that began to stir in your mind. You had hoped, somewhere deep down inside of you, that Fred was just as taken by your look as George was.

Fred had doctored up his costume quite a bit, adding eyeliner smudged around his eyes, a bit of face powder, and some fake blood below his lip. He had gelled his hair to look more Victorian, too, which gave the perfect finishing touch. “You look awesome, Fred,” you remarked, giving him a pat on this shoulder. You began to help finish the snack table. The tension could be cut with a knife, you noted. There was something different between you and Fred ever since the beach. A lust hung in the air whenever you two were in close proximity. It was enough to strangle you, and the worst part was, you were convinced it was all in your head. It was bloody wrong, too, you had told yourself.

_________________________

 The night went off without a hitch. Ron and Hermione had shown up, dressed adorably as a cop and a robber. Ginny and Harry had come, too, of course, wearing their most ghoulish ghost bride and groom attire. Even Draco Malfoy and his wife Astoria made an appearance. Dozens of other witches and wizards had passed through the night, sharing in the imbibing and laughter of the evening. By midnight, the party had thinned out. For those in attendance with children, trick or treating was over now, which meant it was time to return home.

You had had quite a few shots of fire whisky, which had now left you sleepily sitting on the couch. George had gone up to bed due to the fact that the shop would still be open in the morning and it was his turn for the morning shift. You yawned, stretching out to lie down. Fred was still over and he sat down, pulling your boots to sit on his lap. This closeness normally would be nothing but platonic, but tonight the tension began to rise again. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you suddenly felt a wicked dizziness in your head. Your heart felt like it had risen into the bottom of your throat when Fred began to talk.

“You know, y/n, I’ve always thought you were very, very....gorgeous. Even when those stupid, snotty Slytherins would pick on you in school. Too beautiful for me, but perfect for George,” Fred was mindlessly watching a horror movie you’d put on the television. His words were slurred. “And tonight, I mean talk about a smoke show.”

“Thanks, Freddie,” you smiled, thankful for the compliment.

“Do you ever wonder...what if it would have been us?”

The question caught you off guard and you sighed a little, looking up at the ceiling. “Sometimes,” you had never admitted it out loud. But it was often that you did wonder - what if you had fallen in love with Fred instead of George?

“My feet hurt,” you allowed the words to tumble from your mouth. You were never one for a filter when drinking, either. It was just one more thing you and Fred had in common.

“Lemme help,” Fred whispered, reaching over to unzip your leather shoes from the top of your thigh to the ankle. He pulled each of them off, and then looked up at you. He placed on hand at your ankle and ran his hand up to your thigh, feeling the fabric of your fishnet stockings. Again, he ran his hand down your leg. He cleared his throat, clearing coming unglued by the feeling of your smooth legs and the course, patterned fabric of your fishnets dancing beneath his hand. Instinctively, you allowed your legs to open, tempting Fred to move his hand up further. But just as he moved his hand toward the inner part of your thigh, you swung your legs around and sat up.

You bent over quickly, grabbing your shoes and standing up. “You should go, Fred,” your throat felt dry. Nothing happened, you told yourself. You’re overreacting. He was just helping you take your boots off.

“Right, it’s late,” Fred said awkwardly, standing up and grabbing his keys off the coffee table. He didn’t drive, luckily, because it was apparent the he had also had a few too many beers.

[To Be Continued.]

[jackest-jack]

I would very much like to hear about your spooky scary Sirens, pretty please 🥺

AJKSJAKISJAJAJF Ok so I almost had a heart attack when I saw you were following me because YOU’RE SO COOL so thank you

I already wrote about my spooky scary sirens over here, and they have pictures and I would be willing to write a short thing with them later but for right now I’m gonna pick a different thing and blab about it.

The most fleshed out and cohesive thing I have is the vampire band nerd slasheresque story with a police chase followup as well as a separate zombie apocalypse thing, so ig I’ll go with that. More under cut and warning for like a lot of gore and death and angst. I’m also only doing the first part of that because this is taking a long ass time

I came up with this in junior high, and I was in band, and I noticed that each instrument section had different personalities sort of, so I made characters around that and put them in a horror plot where they all die horribly, because what else are you gonna do? This is gonna be a plot rundown and it might get real long. (It is no longer a rundown. Its just unedited word vomit.)

anyways a bunch of friends, who I’m just gonna call by their instrument names, go camping in the woods for a couple weeks. They all take one car and set up in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

Clarinets a vampire pretending to be a high schooler for kicks, because she was 15 when she turned 5 years ago and got dragged away to the magic underworld (basically a series of safehouses and towns for the supernatural) and she wants a letterman goddamnit.

She gets adopted into a friendgroup despite her best efforts, and gets dragged along on the camping trip in the small car and close quarters with a buddy system and she hasn’t eaten anything substantial in like two months and its proving to be a problem when she starts thinking of her friends as snacks instead of people.

one night, percussionist gets up to go on a 3 am lake walk. But, the buddy system. So he takes Clarinet, who never seems to sleep anyways, with him.

They’re on the edge of a lake littered with huge old chunks of driftwood, looking out over the water, when Percussionist steps on something sharp. It went straight through his sandal and he pulls it out without much trouble, but “that nail looks kind of rusty and I’m Pretty Sure I’m bleeding a little bit, oh I hope I don’t need a shot-“

she falls on him like a cat on a wounded songbird. She has enough of her mind left to cover his mouth and stop the screams as he slowly loses blood.

He tries to fight back. He does. he jams the nail deep into her throat and twists away, but she catches his wrist and slams him backward, a sharp stick going through his stomach, sticking him bloody at the base of an old driftwood branch still attached to its old tree.

She stops draining just before he dies. And she waits, and waits, and waits. Finally, hours later, the corpse takes a deep gasp and its eyes fly open. It begins the excruciating process of pulling itself off the tree.

his wound is closed less than a minute later.

he comes to and sees her sobbing on the ground, bloody streaks under her eyes from where she tried to wipe away her tears with hands soaked from putting pressure on his stomach in a feeble attempt to save him.

“Vampires, huh?” He says, half joking, half looking for an explanation.

—-—

they’re sitting around a small campfire, and Clarinet tells him that he’s a vampire, he needs blood, he cant go back to camp or he will eat his friends. She leaves to find him something substantial before he loses it.

back at the original camp, its around sunrise. Flute notices a small trail of smoke not far off, realizes that Percussionist is missing, and gets French Horn to help him look for their idiot friend (and maybe put out a small fire.)

They make it about 3/4th of the way to the smoke when flute trips on a tree root and scrapes his knee. About a mile away, Percussionists head perks up.

He distantly realizes that he just left the campfire that he’s supposed to stay at, but he can‘t seem to care. The hunger doesn’t gnaw at him or hollow him out. Its not like looking for a fix either. Its an itch in his whole body, a near unavoidable function of his being. The hunt is as natural as a cough, a spasm of muscles to take away the awful itch.

He moves faster than he ever could before, and just to see if he can, he jumps up and begins running across the branches of trees. Its slower, but sneakier; his prey won’t see him coming.

Finally, he reaches them. He jumps on the smaller one, sending it crashing to the ground. It’s blood is what brought him here. He sinks his hollow teeth into its neck and begins feeding.

There is a scream and a crash as the taller one runs away. Thats ok. He only needs one.

———

French horn, for her part, is freaking the fuck out. The sun had just peaked over the horizon and orange light was streaming through the trees when everything went to shit.

The pale thing had fallen on Flute, and the noise he made… she was almost certain he was dead now.

She kept running. If she could make it back to camp, then maybe she could get help, or maybe leave before the rest of them died too.

She charges through a thicket, sharp thorns scraping and tearing every inch of her as she shoves her way through. She shuts her eyes as she goes, to avoid the thorns poking them out.

When she comes out the other side, she feels her gut sink.

She doesn’t recognize the trees or bushes around her. She doesn’t see a path.

She’s lost.

She wants to break down, to scream and cry the injustice to the heavens, to kick and punch and fight the thing that killed her friend, to sit down and rest and have a moment to breathe, to be home-

She picks a direction and runs.

———

Percussionist stops draining Flute just before he‘s dead, following the instinct that drove him to where he is.

He wants to be horrified. He does, really. But he was so hungry, and the itch is still there, waiting beneath his skin to pounce on him again. But for now, its gone, and he can think clearly. He can move without the instinct tainting his every twitch.

He turns to look at the person he drained and sees-

He sees his friend. And it hits him all at once.

He killed a person, a person he knew, a person he cared for, and he had been powerless to stop it. He didn’t even know- he didn’t realize- he would never have done it if he-

but he knew he would have. Even if he knew. He would’ve killed Flute, and he hates himself for that.

So he sits by the body of his dead friend, maybe in solace, maybe because some instinctive tick tells him to. He doesn’t want to know. He refuses to.

When Flute sat up and gasped, Percussionist could‘ve sworn he had a heart attack (even without a functioning heart.)

To Flutes credit, he made it through Percussionists halting and confused explanation before letting himself ask about the smell.

”what smell?” Percussionist asked, and lifted his nose to the air.

He got his answer. The smell of blood, salty and sweet and with a coppery tinge to it drifted through the air, leaving a hunger and odd comfort sitting in his gut. It reminded him of smelling baking cookies from the kitchen as a kid.

A leaf crunched, and he snapped out of his trance. Flute had stood up and broken into a run, faster than any human could’ve gone. After the person that had been with him.

After his friend.

Percussionist sprinted after him.

——

He had the chance to notice how fast he was really going, now that he could think through the hunger. He practically flew through the forest, leaping over a fallen log half his size that blocked his way. He ducked and dodged branches that threatened to slash his face, and if he were running for something else he may have threw his head back and laughed.

As it was, he was following the occasional red flash of a windbreaker that he could barely keep up with without being hit by a tree.

He could heal now right? Did he really even need to be worried about being hit by trees?

He let one slap his face just to test, and he felt the stinging pain all across his face as a deep cut opened across his nose and eyes. He faltered as his vision went red with blood. A second later, it was gone, and he could see again. ….And he‘d lost flute. Great.

He sniffed the air, remembering how he’d been able to smell the blood, and tried to look for his friend.

He could smell the whole forest. Sap and pine and rotting leaves, rotten flesh and mushrooms and a skunk miles and miles off, the sweet sting of honey and dew and campfire smoke, and over it all, the most lovely smell-

Well, looks like he couldn’t find him that way. He thought for a moment, and groaned. He could just follow French Horn and get to her first!

He began running again.

———

Clarinet had just made it back to the campsite, a live deer kicking around over her shoulder. She would’ve killed it, but she couldn’t quite figure out how without losing any of its blood, and since she drained and seriously injured Percussionist he would need a lot of blood-

and the campfire had a suspicious lack of vampires around it. Great. She could only hope that no one had cut themselves-

She stopped as the scent of blood hit her nose. She cursed and took off running, dropping the deer as she did.

——

French Horn thought she was going to die when she heard a bush rustle and snap behind her. She had stopped for a rest, thinking she was safe (if very lost). She was braced for her death when Percussionist crashed through the bushes.

”Oh, good, you’re still alive. We need to go like right now.”

Before she could protest, he grabbed her wrist and began pulling her away. With his very cold, very pale hand.

”Wait. Was it you?” She said, planting her feet.

”Yes.” his voice was solemn, and his eyes downcast. “But unless you want Flute to get you, we need to go”

She tore her wrist out of his grasp.

“Flutes dead. Flute’s dead and you killed him!”

And Flute hit her from the side. He sank his teeth deep into her neck, but only for a moment. Then he pulled back, looking horrified and ran away.

French Horn stands up dazedly. “That was…”

”Yeah.”

she lifts a hand to her bleeding neck where the bite is still gushing blood.

A rustle of trees comes from the side, and Clarinet skids to a stop in front of them. She takes in the situation and drops to her knees, tearing loose a piece of her shirt and holding it to the holes in French Horn’s neck.

”Wheres the third?”

French horn points to the copse of trees he disappeared into.

”I think we might actually be jinxed.” A pause, then “That was supposed to be a joke. Go after him. He’s heading towards the camp, and chances are he won’t be able to stop himself a second time.”

Percussionist nods, and then stops. “How do I get there?”

”just run straight! GO!”

and he does.

———

Clarinet gently explains to French Horn that vampires are real, and that she is one. When asked why she isn’t bloodthirsty, Clarinet answers that she has a lot of blood left in her still, and that she’s not all the way changed, and that the change will, in her words, “Stink. Its kind of the worst thing you’ll have to go through, and it’ll take way longer since you have blood, and you may not notice at first.“

French Horn pursed her lips. “Theres no way to stop it?”

Clarinet shook her head.

”Okay. Okay, shouln’t we help Percussionist?”

Clarinet swore. “You won’t be much help in the state you’re in, but I can drop you off by the camp. Pack our things and be ready to go.”

Clarinet scooped French Horn up and took off into the woods.

———

Percussionist got there just as Tuba was ripping Flute off of his neck.

Despite Flute being the smallest out of all of them, and Tuba being the strongest, he was struggling to keep the scrabbling, biting Flute away.

So, Percussionist did the only logical thing and full body tackled Flute, trying to hold him down. It worked, sort of. Long enough for Tuba to start running. Long enough for Sax and Trombone to see what the ruckus was.

Flute burst out of Percussionists grip, grabbed Trombone and ran.

Sax sprinted after them, and percussionist was left in the dust, standing dumbstruck as they all dashed off. He snapped out of it when Trumpet pressed an axe to his shoulder and told him to not move.

———

Flute knows this: he is very hungry. He also knows that blood tastes very good.

His last two meals escaped. He thinks he let the first go, but he can’t seem to remember why. The second was ripped away from him by someone like him, which was rather rude.

But this one won’t get away. He is far to hungry to let that happen.

He feeds as he runs, draining the squirming thing dry, pinning its flailing limbs against his chest. It stops wailing eventually.

He slows as he becomes able to think clearly again. He holds the body in his arms and revels in the fact he is no longer hungry. Then, he looks at the thing he drained.

And it’s his friend. He feels his stomach drop, and a hollow pit grow in his chest. His friend is dead, and it’s his fault. He tells himself there’s nothing to do but run, so he does.

Really, though, he just doesn’t want to see what she’ll become.

———

“What did you do to them.” Said Trumpet, each word slow and dangerous. She lifted the axe off his shoulder, and he felt relief before he realized she was lining up to take off his head.

He may be able to heal, but he did not want to see how far that ability stretched. Not like this, at least.

He swallowed his fear and asked, ”What makes you think I did something?“

She barked out a harsh laugh. “You go missing in the middle of the night with Clarinet, who still isn’t back. Flute and French Horn go to look for you and have mysteriously disappeared. Tuba came running from this direction, bleeding like a stuck pig. And here I find you, in the center of it all.”

Ah. He was fucked. Time to implement the worst plan ever, considering how fast Trumpet was.

”that’s- that sure is some pretty overwhelming evidence that I did something. I swear I didn’t, though but I know you won’t believe me so I’m just gonna RUN!”

He ducked under the axe she swung at his head, and took off running into the trees. He glanced behind him to see her struggling to keep up, and grinned. He was actually getting away with his head, and beating Trumpet in a footrace for once-

He turned back around just in time to see the tree that crumpled his skull.

———

He wished he could say he didn’t feel every excruciating twitch of his skull righting itself as he laid there. As it was, it was painful enough he was functionally passed out.

Which is why he was surprised to see trumpet dragging him by his feet deep into the woods.

Not half as surprised as trumpet, who dropped his feet and swore when he sat up and gasped.

”What the hell? You were dead! that killed you!” She yelled.

Percussionist was still reeling from how much growing his skull back sucked, and latched on to the first thing he noticed.

”Did you steal my shoes?”

”what are you?” She asked in a tone that was decidedly horrified.

He fiddled with a piece of grass somewhere to his left. “A vampire, as of yesterday. Really though, why do you have my shoes?”

“Not important. What do you mean as of yesterday?”

”Last night, really. Me and Clarinet-“

”Clarinet and I.” She said.

”Whatever. We went on a walk and turns out she’s always been a vampire, and then she did the vampire thing, and now I’m a vampire, and things have just been spiraling from there-”

”That explains a lot, actually. Who else is a vampire?”

Percussionist, feeling slightly more alive, realized they weren’t by the camp anymore.

”Where are we? Why do you have my shoes, and why are you so calm about this?”

”oh.” She said. “I may have made an action plan for something like this. You know, in case of murderers, or if supernatural stuff was real.”

”thats cool. Why steal my shoes?“

”I was framing you for murder.”

an awkward silence settled over them.

”We should get back to camp. Stop more people from getting vampired and all.”

”Yeah. Lets do that.“

———

Sax skidded to a stop in front of Trombones body. She was limp, and pale, and by all accounts dead. He whipped out his phone to call anyone, anyone at all, and pitched it into a tree when it read no service.

He sat, and he cried by his best friend, who always made the shittiest puns, who was the worst at sports, who thought anything with soulmates was stupid but still read all the stuff he suggested her. Who was dead.

He was still crying when she sat up and latched onto his neck, draining him dry.

———

French Horn and Clarinet ran across Tuba, who was holding gauze to his neck where he had been bit. French Horn was starting to feel slightly feverish, but otherwise okay.

”Guys! Are you okay? The weirdest thing just happened.” He said.

”We need to leave.” Said Clarinet. “Now.”

”No argument here. Have you guys seen Flute? He was with you last time I saw him.“

French Horn and Clarinet shared a look.

“I’ll go find him. You two pack. we leave before dusk.”

They watched as she disappeared into the leaves.

”Whats going on?” Asked tuba, a hint of worry in his voice.

French Horn took a deep breath in before saying “Vampires are real.”

Tuba burst out laughing.

“Oh. You’re serious.” He said as he hefted a tent into the back of the van.

”you don’t believe me.”

“How could I? I haven’t seen any proof that they exist.”

She threw a bag of trash in the van with more force than nessecary.

“What attacked you then?”

At this he paused. “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a vampire.”

———

Percussionist and Trumpet made it to where Trombone was crying over Sax, the late afternoon sun reflecting off of their now pale skin.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. He’ll be alright.”

Trombone looked up at him and snarled, all teeth and rage, and Percussionist jumped back.

”He’ll end up like me, won’t he.”

Percussionist nodded.

”I don’t know what world you’re living in, but this isn’t fucking alright!”

Trumpet walked over and knelt in front of Trombone. She held out her hand, and Trombone scrambled away.

”I don’t believe you would hurt me. Not right now. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

”so what?” She scoffed. “I still did it. Should I just go on existing as whatever I am now? Just kill people so I can live?”

”Actually,“ Percussionist said, “we can live off of different types of blood.”

Trumpet looked back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shut up you twatwaffle, can’t you see this is a delicate moment?”

”just figured it would be some good information to have.“ he said.

“Are you seriously telling me my angst fest was for nothing?” She asked.

Percussionist leaned against a tree. “Oh, don‘t worry.” He said. “Theres still plenty of angst about the immortality.”

“Sax did always say he wanted to be sixteen forever.”

Trumpet rolled her eyes. “Lets go home.”

Trombone reached out to take Trumpets hand, and Sax shot up and clamped his jaws around her throat. Trombone grabbed Trumpets wrist and pulled her away as Percussionist peeled Sax away.

”Let him.“ choked out Trumpet. “I‘ll be one of you either way.”

”Absolutely not!” Said Percussionist. “Trombone, go find literally anything else with blood.” Sax kicked and snarled in his grip. “Hurry! I’m not sure how much longer I can hold him.”

———

“Flute!” Yelled Clarinet. She had been looking for him for an hour now, and still couldn’t find him.

She was walking along an old trail that went out of use years ago when she almost tripped over him. He was curled up in the shade of a tree, hiding away in a hollow.

“What do you want.”

”I want to take you home.” She said.

he laughed. “Something like me doesn’t deserve a home. I killed people, and I knew there was another way, but I did it anyway. Just leave me here to rot.”

She remembered when she’d been like this. She had forgotten to eat, had slipped up. Its not a hard thing to do. When you’re a vampire, you brain tricks you into feeling fine by your old standards until you‘re so hungry you can’t stop it.

She believed it was all her fault, though. The only way someone had gotten through to her was something they had called twisting the knife. She had always called it shitty.

She sighed. “I wanted to say sorry.”

He poked his head out a little, peering up at her. “You didn’t do anything.”

”But I did.” She said. “I drained percussionist dry last night, and then I left him to find you. I watched while you attacked your friends, and now, I’m giving you a chance to fix the harm we caused. What will you do with it?”

”You made me like this?” He asked.

”Yes.”

he lunged at her face, fingers clawing for her eyes. She turned around and ran for the campsite, making sure he was behind her, and praying that he would forgive her for the stunt she just pulled.

———

The campsite was packed, and Percussionist and Trombone had made a game of who could catch the best songbird for Sax. Sax was less murderously inclined, though it was hard to tell if it was because the blood he had consumed or trumpets growing nonhumanness.

After the third or fourth time of watching Sax suck down a bird or squirrel like a juice box, Tuba was forced to admit that maybe vampires were a little real.

(He noticed his neck wound had already scabbed over and was halfway gone. He was afraid to ask if he was becoming one.)

The sun was slipping behind the tops of the trees when Clarinet charged out of the forest, leapt over the van, And yelled “Flutes trying to kill me!”

Flute burst into the clearing and lunged at Clarinet. Percussionist stepped in the way.

”What happened?“

”She did this in purpose! She said she dropped you in the woods to kill us!”

Percussionists blinked. “No she didn’t. She told me to stay where I was while she got something for me to eat.”

he stopped yelling. Now, he just looked confused. “But she turned you.”

”Yeah? It was an accident. She obviously regretted it.”

Percussionist backed off, and Flute looked at clarinet.

”why did you say all that then?”

“You were’t gonna come with me if I didn’t. Besides, you were spiraling and this was the easiest way to stop that.”

”Sounds like the shittiest way to stop it, too.” Scoffed Tuba.

She sighed. “Yeah. It was.”

”Hey,” asked sax. “Are any of us still human? I know me, Percussionist, and Trombone aren’t-“

”Percussionist, Trombone, and I.” Said Trumpet.

”-And I saw you two jump over my van, but whats up with the rest of you?”

”Basically,” said Clarinet, “anyone who was bit is or will become a vampire, depending on how much blood they had left in them after the bite. Was there anyone who wasn’t bit?”

everyone was silent as they all glanced at each other, looking for anyone who could say yes. It quickly became awkward, and was broken by Clarinet muttering “Fuck.” quietly under her breath.

”Who all, um, died today?”

Flute, Sax, and Trombone slowly raised their hands. Clarinet squinted at Percussionist, which prompted him to say “What? I died last night.”

French Horn yelled “past twenty four hours, dingus.”

He rolled his eyes and raised his hand.

”Alright. You three,” -she made a sweeping gesture towards the three with their hands down- “Are going to have the worst couple weeks of your life. Take a few days off of everything. Don’t go to the hospital. Stay isolated. Call me when the pain’s mostly over.”

Tuba’s lips pursed. “What, exactly, is going to happen to us?”

”The way it was explained to me was that your body slowly cannibalizes itself. It sucks.”

”hm.” He said. He looked very troubled.

They got in the van and drove through the night.

For now, they rest. A short break, before they have to figure out the rest of their lives.

[bookswitchcraftandcats]

Rainy Days (Part 1 of 4)

Link to AO3 --- Part 2

Summary: Emma and Julian are in charge of the London Institute for a week and find a box that once belonged to Cordelia Carstairs and contains poems written to her by James Herondale. The story switches between Emma and Julian and oneshots about things that happened in Jordelia's life to inspire the poems.

Sorry if the formatting for the poems is messed up, I tried. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma and Julian walk through the halls of the London Institute. Growing up, Julian always loved London, he found the city to be inspiring for paintings and loved the older feel of the buildings. They were here for a visit and also because Alec asked them to watch over it for a few days while Julian’s Aunt Marjorie was on vacation. Both of them love London and spent most of their time going to Hyde park and all kinds of little cafes but unfortunately, today was not a good day to be exploring the city.

Being from LA, they hardly ever saw rain and they felt as though even if they did, it wasn’t usually this much. It was pouring outside and nearly flooding the streets, even though it was the middle of the day it was so dark outside you could hardly see. So, the young couple decided to stay inside and explore the institute instead.

“Do you think the sun ever shines in London?” Emma asks while looking out the window. Today they were in the library just trying to get some work done. Julian laughs and then walks over to join her at the window, placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Want to take a break and explore for a little bit?” He asks, taking her hand. They headed off into the rest of the building, looking for an adventure.

The London institute was one of the biggest in the world, it felt as though you could go for miles without ever seeing the same room twice. Now Emma and Julian were laughing as they raced through the historic halls, they hadn’t had much time to themselves lately and desperately needed this break. Every so often they would stop and take pictures of tapestries or portraits that Jules would want to try to paint once they got back home.

They came to a tapestry of a pond with ducks. It had a bit of text sewn into the bottom corner that just said, “never trust a duck.” They thought that was kind of wierd to have but it looked very old. They were approaching a whole hallway that seemed like it hadn't been touched in decades. The wallpaper reflected the style of another time period and the pictures were covered by a layer of dust.

Now out of breath the two stopped for a second and smiled at each other. They may not be parabatai any more but they still knew what the other was thinking. This was the most fun they have had in years. Julian stepped forward and kissed his girlfriend. Emma returned this with passion. Jules’ arms around her waist and her arms thrown around his neck.

One thing leads to another and next thing you know they find themselves stumbling backward into one of the abandoned bedrooms. They keep making out as the door slams behind them, falling onto the bed. Emma then suddenly stops and looks across the room curiously.

She had caught something out of the corner of her eye, a name. Her name. There was a wooden jewelry box with the name Carstairs engraved on it. It sat on a bookshelf next to an old leather bound book titled The Beautiful Cordelia and a book of Persian mythology. Looking around the room, it seemed as though no one had been in here for years. Julian followed her gaze and quickly caught on. Emma looked up at Julian,

“Do you think this could have belonged to one of my ancestors?” She asks while picking up the box.

“Probably. Didn’t Jem used to live here? Maybe it is his?” He responds as they walk back to the bed. They set the box down between then and open it up. Inside it is filled with treasures that belonged to someone a century ago. The first thing they pull out is a worn portrait.

“I don’t think it is Jem,” Emma says as she hands the picture to him. It depicts a girl with bright red hair holding a familiar gold sword. The same sword that Emma carries with her every day.

“Is that,” Julian starts with a bit of surprise, “Cortana?”

“I think so,” Emma says. “So this must be Cordelia Carstair.” She had grown up hearing stories about the warrior that fought greater demons in London and wielded the same Carstairs sword. She was said to be one of the bravest shadowhunters of her time. She had also met with Lily Chen during one of her visits to New York. The vampire had known Cordelia and had a few stories of her own to share.

“This must be a box of her belongings, and this probably used to be her room.” She continues while reaching in to grab a stack of notes. On each one was written a poem and at the bottom they were signed ‘J.H.’

“H” Julian wonders aloud, “I wonder if it stands for Herondale.”

“It does” says Emma, “James Herondale was her husband.”

“Do you think he wrote these poems to her?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She says and then pulls out another portrait from the bottom of the box. It was of a boy with dark hair and gold eyes. They weren’t quite sure who this was but had a sort of an idea. They could always ask Tessa later too, she had sent a fire message earlier that day saying she was going to stop by tonight with Jem.

“Do you want me to read the poems?” Emma asks, retrieving the first one from the box. Julian nods and then she starts reading.

Cortana

You carry a sword of mercy and power It’s blade an extension of your own will. It can cut through the wickedest of powers, And slice through the chains that bind me.

The Sunlight reflects off it’s gold surface. Holding confidently to the grip of the hilt, Cutting down enemies for miles and miles, You could tear this very world in two.

The sword for the purest of hearts, For the one who has my own heart. The most beautiful of weapons ever made, Belongs to the most beautiful person I know.

It was another day taken over by the rain and The Merry Thieves and company were all sitting around the Devils Tavern discussing their latest projects. Lucie was just finishing reading her latest chapter of The Beautiful Cordelia. This section happened to be about “Lord Asher” and his new boyfriend, a knight named “Sir Tobias”. This prompted blushing from Alastair and Thomas while the others made jokes.

Cordelia was sitting next to James on the couch resting her head on his shoulder. She enjoyed these little displays of affection and was very content. James looked at her and smiled and then all of the sudden Mathew jumps up and says,

“Jamie, do you have any poems that you have been working on?” James sighs and then walks over to the book shelf and pulls out a leather bound notebook. He sits next to Cordelia and then starts flipping through the pages looking for a poem to read when the word Cortana catches her eye. She puts a finger on the page and looks at her husband, he winks and she blushes. James then quickly continues flipping through pages before his nosey parabatai notices. He starts reading the group one of his poems and they continue chatting for the rest of the afternoon.

Cordelia and James say their goodbyes and head back to the institute. Their carriage was kind of far away so they had to walk a bit in the heavy rain, not that either of them minded holding hands in the rain.

They were running and jumping in puddles, they would be wet anyways so what's the harm? Cordelia laughed as James pulled her in for a kiss under the street light. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. They pulled apart and smiled, walking off to their warm, dry carriage.

James put an arm around Cordelia as they rode home, they were both tired from a long day and the gloomy weather. By the time they got to the institute they were both half asleep and wet from the rain. They head up to their room to change into some dry clothes before laying down on their bed. Cordelia looks at James,

“So, what was that poem about?” she questions with a smirk.

“The Cortana one?” James says while grabbing the leather bound book from his bag.

“Yes,” Cordelia says, looking over at the journal in his lap. He turns to the page with the title at the top.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” he asks in a quiet whisper. She nodded.

You carry a sword of mercy and power It’s blade an extension of your own will.

He is right next to her and she can feel his warm breath as he reads each line. She thinks of her own sword, the sharp edge for mercy, the sword itself full of power. The Sword was an extension of her will, it had chosen her and would always come to her in a fight. James kisses her cheek.

It can cut through the wickedest of powers, And slice through the chains that bind me.

It had cut through wicked powers, when she needed to save James. She wasn’t even thinking then, she just knew she needed to save him. She had also cut through the bracelet that binded him to Grace, freeing him. She knew that even if he didn’t love her, he should be free to choose for himself who to love, but he did choose her.

The Sunlight reflects off it’s gold surface. Holding confidently to the grip of the hilt, Cutting down enemies for miles and miles, You could tear this very world in two.

She had fought many demons, even princes of hell and her sword never failed. James was always by her side fighting too. Together they could defeat the most dangerous of creatures, they even tore through the layers of this world once to stop one. Her love for James extended beyond the bounds of this world and she would do anything to get to him.

The sword for the purest of hearts, For the one who has my own heart.

She didn’t know if her heart was necessarily pure, she could only try her best. She loved James and he certainly had her heart too. She could feel her heat racing while watching his lips form the words in a calm whisper.

The most beautiful of weapons ever made, Belongs to the most beautiful person I know.

This made Cordelia blush a little, James’s eyes turned to meet hers as he closed the book. He carefully tore the page from the notebook and handed it to her.

“This was meant for you anyways,” he says as he kisses her softly on the lips. She placed the paper on the nightstand. “I love you Daisy.”

“I love you too,” Cordelia says as she kisses him again. They then lay back in bed and fell asleep next to each other, listening to the rain outside as it lulled them into a deep and loving sleep.

Tag list: @fortheloveofthecarstairs  @thehotfaeriethreesome  @shadowrunner2000  @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @gabtapia  @niathesanctuary-bolastair-kanej 

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Turned - Dewdrop Ghoul (Ghost)

I had a thought...what if when Ghoul bites a human, they turn into a Ghoul like a vampire? Lmao, I am sleep deprived😅

Also, I suck at giving titles to my work ughhhh sorry

~~~~~~~~~~

You were born into the ministry, being the child of a Clergy member, so you grew up around the Ghouls.

Still being a child, you loved playing with the Ghouls. You always played a little rough for most human children to handle, so it was like a match made in Hell when you met the Ghouls.

At first, your parents were more than a little hesitant to let you play with the Ghoul children. But when they saw how happy you were with them, they started to chill out about it.

The little Ghouls adored you, not really having much interaction with creatures outside their own kind. They always thought of humans as fragile and soft, but they were pleasantly surprised when they met you.

Compared to how the Ghouls played with each other, you were a bit mild, but they didn’t mind. Although, they were still told to keep their sharp claws retracted and their teeth off of you while you played. Though, sometimes they’d headbutt you, thankfully their horns hadn’t grown in just yet.

You loved all the Ghouls, but surprisingly, Dewdrop was your favorite to play with. You liked how he wasn’t really afraid to accidentally hurt you. There have many moments when some Clergy members were biting their nails nervously watching how rough you both played, afraid that the fire Ghoul would be too rough and seriously hurt you. 

You remembered one of Dew’s fellow Ghouls saying, “Oh man, there’s two of them.” Or something like that.

But he had never hurt you. Until today.

You and the Ghouls were play fighting as you guys usually did on the private playground of the abbey. All the Ghouls except Dewdrop had enough, starting to get a bit tired. But Dew seemed to have infinite stamina, which you appreciated since you were the same way.

Eventually, the Ghouls went inside the building, leaving you two outside being supervised by a couple Sisters of Sin. They weren’t doing a very good job though, as you and Dewdrop decided to sneak away from the Sisters.

You both giggled triumphantly as you rounded the corner of one of the halls of the ministry, both overjoyed that you were successful in avoiding the unwanted adult supervision.

You and Dewdrop tried to stifle your giggles as you heard the stomping footsteps of the Sisters trying to look to you both. “Those two are little menaces.” You heard, almost causing you to chortle but was stopped when Dew quickly placed his hand over your mouth.

As soon as you saw that the coast was clear, you decided to playfully bite Dew’s hand, causing him to mewl in pain. “Ow!” He whined.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be such a baby!” You teased, not knowing that you did actually bite too hard.

Dewdrop got angry really quick and started growling at you, showing his sharp teeth. “I’m gonna kill you!” He shouted, causing you to flinch.

Being a child, you didn’t really have a sense for danger and decided to goad him on. “Oh, really? Well, you’ll have to catch me first!” You giggled, starting to race down the empty halls.

Dewdrop immediately started chasing after you, his anger growing more fierce with every smug smirk you threw his way. Still, you were unaware he was actually mad. You just thought it was another game you two were playing.

As the seconds passed and sneaking some looks over your shoulder, you started to realize it wasn’t just a game. Dewdrop looked pissed. Seeing how his claws were out and his fangs peeking out through his little mask, you started to feel the panic set in.

You quickened your pace, not wanting to find out if your friend really wanted to kill you. He wouldn’t...right?

And in horror movie fashion, you managed to trip over your own feet and almost face-planted into the pristine marble flooring of the hallway. 

You didn’t even have time to turn around before you felt Dew’s smaller body crash on top of you, wrestling you into a position where you couldn’t move or fight back.

You heard a clinking sound and you looked to the side to see Dewdrop’s mask was discarded on the floor, and you feared the worst.

You heard Dew growl before you felt a sharp, stinging pain in your shoulder. Again, being a child, you thought you were dying and let out a loud scream that echoed through the halls. So loud in fact, you let almost everyone in the building know exactly where you were.

After what felt like forever to you, the fresh stinging pain went away and you felt your friend get off of you. You slowly sat up, still in pain.

You looked up to see Dewdrop towering over you, his mask neatly placed back over his face. You noticed the visible part of his face, his chin, was coated in a red liquid. You furrowed your brows, innocently asking yourself when did he have time to eat red jello?

Looking to where your aching pain was, you finally realized you were bleeding and that the red liquid that was dripping off of Dew’s chin was blood.

“You bit me?!” You shouted.

Dewdrop’s mouth curled into a wicked grin, showing off his now blood coated fangs. “Now you know how it feels.” He said spitefully, wiping some blood off with the back of his hand.

Both you and Dew jumped when you heard loud gasps, him turned around and you slightly leaning to the side to see past. 

It was the Sisters that were assigned to watch you, your mother, and Sister Imperator. Uh oh...

You were immediately taken to the infirmary by Sister with your worried mother by your side. Your wound really didn’t hurt that much when you arrived there, but you liked the attention that you received from the doctor and nurses.

In the end, you had to have a few stitches for the particularly deep teeth marks but other than that you were going to be fine. That’s what they assumed anyway.

You and your mother were about to exit the building until you heard your name being called out. You turned to see Dewdrop walking towards you, Sister Imperator keeping a firm hand on the back of the fire Ghoul’s neck. He was obviously not comfortable. 

Your mother quickly pushed you behind her, ready to protect you from the Ghoul.

“Someone wants to apologize.” Sister said, glaring down at the small Ghoul. “Dew.”

Dewdrop’s ears were pushed back and his tail was thrashing back and forth, but he stepped forward and sighed. “...I’m sorry I bit you.” He mumbled.

“Speak clearly.” Sister’s authoritative voice boomed.

Dewdrop flinched. “I’m sorry I bit you, Y/N.”

You giggled, making Dew’s eyes light up hopefully. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m that I bit you too.”

After that, you were taken home to get some well needed rest.

Trying to get comfortable with your shoulder wound was difficult since you usually laid on your side when you slept, and you also started to feel unusually finicky as the sun went down. Your mom just wrote it off as the adrenaline from getting hurt that day, but you still worried about how you felt.

By the time midnight rolled around, it was way past your bedtime, you still felt strange. Your heart was racing and you felt your wound itch severely, but you weren’t able to scratch it due to the heavy bandage covering it.

You thought about removing the bandage, but didn’t want to be yelled at. But it was so itchy. Suddenly, your eyes started it itch too.

You got up out of bed with a huff and went into your bathroom. Turning on the light burned your eyes. It was normal for your eyes to burn when you turned on lights after being in the dark for so long, but you felt that it was worse than usual. It felt like your eyes were more sensitive than normal.

You wanted to remove your bandage just to see how it looked, but you saw something else when you looked in the mirror.

You gasped, noticing your eyes weren’t their natural color. One of your eyes were almost a bright yellow color, and the other eye was slowly turning the same. Slowly devouring up the normal color of your iris.

You didn’t know what to do, so you screamed for your mom.

Your mom quickly ran into your bathroom, fearing that you were hurt. But she immediately noticed your almost multicolored eyes. Those were not the eyes of the child she had raised for eight years.

She quickly saw that you were crying, you were scared. You didn’t know what was happening to you.

Suddenly, you felt a horrible pain in your mouth and yelped. Your mother screamed and you followed her gaze to the floor, where you saw teeth. Your teeth.

You reached up to your mouth to feel for your teeth, not believing that you had actually lost them. But you pulled away when you felt your fingers sting, they were cut.

You looked back into the mirror to see that your previous teeth were pushed out by new sharp teeth, a couple being fangs. “Mommy, what’s happening to me?!”

Your parents did what the only thing they thought they could do. They put you in the backseat of their car and started driving to the abbey.

On the way, you started crying again. The pain from your mouth ending, only to be replaced by what felt like a migraine on two sides of your head.

Your mother was sat on the passenger’s side, looking back at you from time to time with tears in her eyes. She almost let out a sob when she saw two stubby bone-like growths coming out of your head.

Your father didn’t even have time to park before your mom brought you inside the building, immediately shouting for help.

Sister Imperator came out in a robe with a scowl on her face, but once she saw you and your parents, her face contorted into a worried gaze. “What happened?” She asked.

“She just started losing teeth and her eyes changed colors! And now she’s growing horns!” Your mother cried.

All the commotion caught the attention of the Ghouls, the loud noises waking them up due to their sensitive hearing. They all gathered and peeked around the corner, curiously looking at each other. They all started pushing each other to try and see what was happening, ultimately falling on top of each other and catching the attention of Sister.

“You all are supposed to be in bed!” Sister Imperator scolded.

“Y/N?” Dewdrop said. “What are you doing here?” He asked, completely ignoring Sister.

“Keep that thing away from my child! He did this to them!” Your mother yelled, making Dewdrop turn his head in confusion.

“Now, now. Everyone calm down.” A heavy Italian accented voice echoed the room. Sister Imperator sighed when she saw Papa Nihil come into the room, oxygen tank trailing behind him. “I’ll take it from here, Sister.”

The old man led you and your parents into his office, pulling out a huge dusty book from a shelf. “Can you explain what’s going on, Papa?” Your father asked.

“I believe I can.” Papa Nihil said as he opened the book, dust flying everywhere as he turned the pages. “I’ve read about this before, hearing rumors of this sort of thing.”

Your parents motioned him to continue.

“It’s only really been recorded once in this book, but according to this section here,” Papa placed a shaky finger on a passage of the page, “it says that if a Ghoul bites a human, they have a five percent possibility of turning into a Ghoul themselves.”

“Five percent?!” Your father laughed. “Then how come my child is turning into one of those creatures?”

“Lower your voice. I know you’re upset, but this was an accident. We train our Ghouls from birth to never bite without cause.”

“Well, now, because of your Ghoul, our child will never life a normal life!”

You started to cry, not because you truly understood what that meant, but because you never liked when your parents raised their voice.

“This is not the time for raised voices. Think of the child.” Papa’s voice softened.

After some more grown up talk, your parents and Papa Nihil decided that you were to live at the abbey for now. They had no idea what the change from human to ghoul would be like, so they’d rather be safe than sorry.

At first, you really didn’t want to leave your home. But your parents convinced you that it was for the best, and you trusted your parents. You also liked the idea of being able to hang around the Ghouls more.

You spent the next morning packing your things, getting ready to live in the abbey from now on, until they decided you were safe. Your mother cried as you packed, which made you sad. But you tried to be strong for her.

A Sister of Sin and Papa Nihil escorted you out of your house and to the abbey, Papa trying to get you excited to be living there. You always liked Papa, he was a funny old man.

All the Ghouls, Papas, Sisters of Sin, and Sister Imperator greeted you at the front gate of the building. They tried to make you feel as welcome as possible to help you transition into Clergy life.

Dewdrop seemed especially excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was nervous to see you, not entirely sure if you turning into a Ghoul was his fault. He didn’t want you to hate him.

Upon seeing you, Dew quickly noticed your eyes. They were almost like his, but one of your eyes hadn’t fully changed colors. And your horns were coming in slowly, just like the rest of the Ghouls. But what really intrigued Dewdrop was your scent. He no idea why you smelled so good to him, it almost made him gravitate toward you immediately. But he was forced to stay in line with his fellow Ghouls.

For you, it was a bit weird seeing Dew again. You were still kind of scared that he’d bite you again, you also were starting to feel things that weren’t familiar to you either. It scared you.

But seeing Dewdrop’s warm smile made you feel hopeful for the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

I am so tired lol. I kinda feel like if a ghoul turns someone into another ghoul, they’d have like a type of sire bond. Like in vampire diaries only they wouldn’t be under the original ghoul’s control, but like in a romantic way they’d be bonded. But hey, that’s just a theory. A fiiiiiiilm theory...sorry.

[symphonyofthewrite]

Seven Years Bad Luck...Or Maybe Just a Moment 

Wonderful cover art by niuan_ on instagram!! Please please go check them out!! Their Castlevania art is incredible!! I'll put a link to their insta in a reblog!!

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix 

Summary: Adrian broke the mirror in his father's study...how will Dracula ever forgive him? 

Originally written for the prompt "Please give us Lisa and Vlad just being loving science parents (bonus points if they’re protective)" I’ll put the link to the original post in a reblog!! 

*

Father was going to be furious.

Adrian’s brain ran through all the potential scenarios; at first his father’s voice raised and came down on him, and at last he felt the dirt outside the castle—thrown out, on the grounds that breaking a mirror was more than bad luck. Sure, it might be a small chance that would happen, but a child’s imagination hasn’t been domesticated yet.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” his mother asked at the dinner table, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You’ve barely touched your food.”

Adrian didn’t say anything. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, to lie, but words were fickle and cruel; they rose to surface, but when he tried to net them, they dove back down his throat.

Emotions, however, weren’t particular about how and when they appeared, and bit even those who weren't trying to catch them.

“I…I’m sorry.” Tears began to fill his eyes.

“Sorry?” Lisa half laughed. “Sorry for what?”

The boy’s golden eyes flickered to his father, who paused, and cocked his head to the side. Only confusion. No anger there…yet.

But surely there would be. His mind offered a seven-course meal on just how angry the vampire king might get in the next few minutes.

Lies, excuses dove down his throat. But the truth wouldn’t stay choked down.

“I…I broke your mirror!” he blurted out, too loudly, “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I—It just fell to pieces! I wasn’t playing with it or anything!”

He heard how loud, how tiny, his voice sounded, and the excuses sputtered and died.

He was ready for Dracula to stand tall, to demand how and why, for his eyes to flash red and…okay, maybe not ready, but expecting it, at the very least.

Instead the Tepes parents looked each other quizzically.

“Which mirror?” His father asked calmly—mirrors weren’t exactly the most common occurrence in a vampire’s house, after all.

Adrian sank down in his chair, his eyes darting away, the words a low, burbling murmur, “The-The one in your study.”

His parents’ faces broke, not in anger, but into forgiving—almost amused—smiles, like he had done something funny and didn’t know it.

“Come with me, Son.” Vlad stood up from the table—but less as the commanding presence, more in a sweeping motion that could take him away with him—holding out a hand.

Adrian’s eyes ran to the safety of his mother. She nodded; go with him.

He got up from the table, taking his father’s hand—(not as cold as one might think)—still apprehensive, but now more than a little curious. His footsteps pattered along behind the calculated tolls in the halls.

They came to the scene of the crime: the study. What was once a smooth, shining mirror, now a pile of glittering glass on the ground. When his eyes fell upon it, Adrian looked away and swallowed.

Dracula let go of his son’s fingers, taking a step forward. He looked over his shoulder smirking a little, and raising his hand.

With one motion his sin was undone; the puddle of a mirror rose, like a dog called by its owner, the jagged droplets coalesced back into the rippling surface.

Adrian’s eyes widened as he stepped closer, seeing himself reflected in it silver waves, as if he was the only one in the room. Vlad put a hand on his shoulder.

“This isn’t a normal mirror.” He waved a hand and the scene within the mirror became something else entirely: a mossy forest. He waved his hand again and before them was a moonlit beach. “It can take you anywhere in the world.”

Adrian took another step closer, mouth agape, staring at the shifting scenes, and reached out. Before he could touch it, however, Dracula waved his hand, and he was reflected in the room again.

“Can we go somewhere?” He looked up at his father, the fire dancing from the mirror to those golden irises.

The kind look in his father’s eyes flickered.

“Not…today.” He turned to leave the room.

Adrian rushed up to him. “Tomorrow?”

The vampire king paused, flicking his wrist, and Adrian jumped at the sound of shattering glass; the mirror had returned to its fragmented pile.

“You have lessons tomorrow.”

The boy followed him into the hall. “The next day then?”

“Son—” Vlad stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He sighed and crouched down before him, one hand on his shoulder, the other brushing through his son’s hair.

“You are one of the brightest children I’ve ever met—and I don’t meet a lot of children,” he chuckled. “You are kind, and gentle… and you always do what you feel is right.”

Adrian smiled sheepishly.

His father twisted a lock of his hair around his finger. “But the world out there…”—Excitement ran from Adrian’s toes to the tip of his tongue, but he said nothing; something made his father’s eyes look redder— “Has no place for that.” He turned his nail, cutting the strand of hair. “Your place is here, in the castle, with your mother and I, where it’s safe.”

Adrian looked at the ground, biting his lip, desperately trying to keep the fluttering thing in his stomach from dying.

“But I—”

His father raised himself back up, six feet tall and all vampire.

“It’s time for bed.” He said, and it’s not up for discussion.

“What’s it like, out there?” Adrian asked as his mother tucked him in for bed.

“Well,” she thought about it. “It’s big,” she pulled the covers tight around his shoulders. “Bigger than you could imagine. And colorful, much more than this drab, old place. The sun is so bright, and it has a way of illuminating everything beneath it, making it look more beautiful. And there are hundreds of thousands of animals, howling—awoo!—and meowing”—she pawed at him—“and chirping”—she whistled—“and just as many people—all creating wonderful things, singing, dancing…” She trailed off.

She seemed so happy when she talked about the outside world. Surely it wasn't so awful a place.

“Mother?” he asked softly.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“…Will I ever get to go out there?”

“Why of course! Why do you ask?”

“Father says…he says that the world out there has no place for—”

“Adrian,” she paused, then reached out to cup his cheek“…your father is what most people would call an old fuddy-duddy.” She smiled, then paused, saying more seriously. “He…hasn’t had very many good experiences with people. He just doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“So… you’ll take me out there?”

“Well,” she laughed, “I can’t exactly sneak you out tonight. But yes, one day. Your father will take some convincing, but I’m pretty good at persuading him. …Did you hear about the time I showed up at his front door?”

He’d heard it alright; only about a thousand times.

But there would be a time, many years later, a time when he walked the world, and some mirrors that broke couldn’t be repaired, when he would give anything to hear her tell it just once more.

[be-ace-write-crime]

Lovely Bride - Second Wedding Night

You wake up after your night with Wamuu and return to your empty village, the last survivor of the Hamon tribe. You struggle with conflicting emotions, anger to the people that made you a sacrificial lamb, grief for the tribe that raised you and the people you grew up with. So much has happened in such a short time and nothing will ever be the same again.

Thankfully Esidisi is there to comfort you.

You and Wamuu made love all night and you suspect a decent portion of the morning as well, after the candles had burned out. He took care to clean the sweat, cum and oil off your skin, probably realizing how badly he had wrecked your body after the fact. He put your wreath aside and let you snuggle up in his bed with some clean pillows, and you fell asleep almost instantly.

The stress and your rendezvous with the first pillarman had thoroughly exhausted you. You woke up alone, a single candle left to light the room for you. It hadn’t been lit for long. Maybe an hour or two? Either way, the room had become stuffy, smelling of sex and burnt out candles, so even if you couldn’t get outside, you weren’t staying in this room.

You picked up your dress, your sandals, and combed your hair with a comb left on the table beside the one remaining light. You were about to leave the room when you thought to put your wreath back on, as your first husband clearly appreciated the look and symbolism of it. You also thought to bring a dagger that was on display as one of Wamuu’s trophies. You knew he wouldn’t mind you taking it and while you were neither scared your betrothed would eat you, nor did you have the hubris to assume you could take them in a fight if you had a dagger, being sent around the lair of vampires and vengeful gods unarmed had been making you nervous since yesterday. With the sheathed dagger tucked into the belt around your waist you venture into the hallway.

The candle light didn’t reach very far, but far enough you can see a faintly shifting silhouette in the shadows leading deeper into the catacombs. Very well, not like you wanted to go there and the squirmy shadows of what had to be vampires only helped to solidify that decision. You looked over your shoulder constantly as you made your way back outside. The hatch had been left open, though the early evening light made it too dangerous for the pillarmen or the vampires to be out.

Every step into the light felt like a wave of relief. You blew out your candle and left it on the steps, almost running outside. It wasn’t until you felt the breeze blowing through the temple that you noticed the trails of tears on your face. You rarely cried, but indeed, you had much to cry about. Tears of relief, happiness and sadness alike.

The sun kissing your face felt heavenly and you could have probably stood there until the sunset, if a warm chuckle hadn’t pulled you out of your thoughts. You wiped your tears away and looked to see Esidisi at the bottom of the stairs, just barely visible in the shade.

“You look beautiful like that,” he said. “I look forward to the day I can embrace the sun by your side,” he added, casting a mournful glance at the shadows edge he couldn’t cross. It seemed so strange that someone as powerful as him was unable to touch you simply because you were standing in the sunlight.

“I wish I could share it with you,” you said, without thinking.

“You do?” he asked, looking up at you again. He seemed surprised.

“I wouldn’t deny anyone the sun… It would be cruel…” you said, shyly running a hand through your hair as he graced you with a warm smile.

“Such a kind heart after all you’ve endured,” he said. “Your village is still there, though you will find it deserted. I assume that’s where you were headed.”

“I just wanted some fresh air, but… now that you mention it, I would like to go there,” you agreed.

“Go ahead. I will catch up to you once the sun has set,” Esidisi said, leaning against the wall and waiting out the daytime.

You nodded and went ahead as we’d told you to do. From what you’d gathered he was the second in command, higher than Wamuu in their hierarchy, but below Kars. He was the one to second your plea for your sister and nieces to be spared. You would have to ask him about them later.

The way down to your village was eerily quiet. Normally you’d hear some noise, see the lights from cooking fires and candles, but the place was abandoned as you’d been warned it would be. The gods had come down from the mountain and wiped out all the people that once resided here, leaving the empty shell of your birthplace behind. In the village square there was a table laid out for a banquet, big enough for the whole village.

Wild animals and some escaped livestock had made their own feast of it in the absence of the humans during the day, but everything looked as if your people just vanished into thin air. Cups and cutlery strewn about, food and wine on the tables, homes untouched. No time to pack up and flee, no time to get the weapons and fight, just a meal, over as soon as it began.

You had been crying since you first stepped outside, but seeing with your own two eyes how the people you called your tribe would be gone forever made you sob hysterically. The ones that had raised you, loved you, and then sent you off to die had all been killed, leaving you alone to mourn them.

“C-Celebrating, were you?!” you spat angrily at the empty table. Wild dogs and other pests had dragged the meat away, while half eaten and picked at fruit, vegetables and pastries were being consumed by flies. A few birds scattered as you approached and dragged a metal tray off the table, leaving it to clatter against the cobblestones of the square. The plates were next, smashed at your feet or hurled like disks to burst into shards of earthenware against the walls of empty homes.

One pitcher full of wine was miraculously untouched on the table, at least until you found it. Booze would either calm you down or be a perfect fuel to your fire. You chugged half the damn vase to quench your thirst either way.

“Was it worth it?! Were all of us you sent to die worth it, you bastards?!” you demanded, climbing on the table and hurling the serving blows around, kicking everything off that was in your way.

“How many idiots does one village need?!” you spat at the empty head chair, picking up the plate and yeeting it with a perfect spin in the direction you came from. It would have gone far if your husband hadn’t caught up to you by then, batting at the dish reflexively, only to have it shatter in his face like shrapnel.

You tried to compose yourself quickly. Surely throwing a plate at his face would warrant killing you, he’d killed for less, you were throwing a tantrum in the evidence of that fact, but you knew he wasn’t going to. For one not to go against Kars, but also because the look on his face was far from the righteous fury that should have been there.

You were standing on a table, leftover food and sauce on the ends of your dress and up to your ankles, ugly crying like a fussy child, but Esidisi merely brushed the stone splinters from his hair and handed you the big carving knife you had somehow stepped over.

“Don’t stop on my account, dear (Y/N). In fact, if I can assist you in any way, do not hesitate to tell me,” he said, smiling calmly.

“I could stab you with this, you know?” you asked, sniffling loudly.

“That dagger would be better for stabbing, but you could,” he agreed, looking up at you. “If it would make you feel better, I would let you. I remember needing to vent for weeks after my own tribe was wiped out. How lord Kars put up with me during that time is beyond me, but I am infinitely grateful he did,” he explained, leaving himself open for an attack.

You contemplated doing it for several long moments, even raising the knife over your head, but ultimately deciding against it. You weren’t scared he would retaliate or punish you, but in the end you saw no point in harming the one person showing you kindness in that moment. You tossed the knife away and kicked some more tableware around like an angry cat.

“‘S no point… just no point in… a-anything I do, is there? W-What am I gonna do now? What need do you have for a human? Just gonna live underground for a… a month and then die like everyone here!!!” you sobbed, hiding your face, which must have been a huge mess by then. Right now he certainly wasn’t sympathising with you because of your good looks.

“You will live, you will grow stronger and wiser and live out the full extent of your life. You alone will carry the legacy of your people. You will be our agent in achieving perfection and when we do we shall forever embrace the light of day beside you,” he answered, holding you against his chest and stroking your back softly.

If you muttered something along the lines of ‘lying bastard’ he kindly ignored it and let you finish crying.

“You were right, you know. The best men and women your village had to offer were the first to die. I believe after your sister and her daughters left, there was hardly any goodness left among them. They took two old horses and a small cart and were practically chased out under threat of being stoned to death. I handed them the box lord Kars said to give them after they had departed, fearing it might be stolen from them. Don’t tell, but I informed them you were alive and what you had done. Your sister cried, as she had done all evening, then brandished a spear at me and said for me to treat you better than your people had treated you,” he said, letting you sob into his shoulder until you ran out of steam. You were probably dehydrated too and seriously hungry.

“Every person worth their salt here seems to think the world of you. Your sister risking her life to threaten me, the tribe’s warriors who died to protect you, lord Kars who saw your shine even in your darkest hour.”

“Everyone else here seemed to think I was fairly expendable,” you huffed bitterly.

“They seemed to think sacrificing you would save all of their lives. They were slaughtered for treating you so cruelly, beloved, but they knew you were the greatest treasure they had to offer,” he corrected, picking you and setting you down now that you had recovered.

Crying like that really did make you feel better. You were never allowed a tantrum of such epic proportions before, just shy of stabbing your husband, while he supported you through every second of it.

“Speaking of treasure,” he said, a sly smile on his face. “This is a small village, but it seems wealthy enough. There is no one left to care for its worldly possessions now,” he said, quirking a brow to emphasize his mischievous intentions. Well, mischief by the standards of a wrathful, mass murdering god. If two days ago someone had told you you’d essentially be pillaging your own home, stealing from the dead, you’d have thought they were crazy.

“You’re not… wrong…” you agreed. His smile was contagious, and you found yourself going along with his idea.

The full moon was high in the sky and the tables and chairs in the square had been repurposed to light a bonfire with his magic. You knew how and where money was hidden and Esidisi caught on to the pattern quickly.

“Go fetch your own treasures, darling. Vampires could do this,” he said, whistling to summon a few and instructing them on how to search.

You could name a few things you wanted, but never dared to ask for. Now you were the sole heir to the hamon tribe and your husband ordered you to fetch whatever treasure you desired, so who were you to disobey?

As such you met him later in the town square, decked out in enough jewelry to sink your body to the bottom of a river, a silk dress in a vibrant wine red color and a stola to match, while your palla, a scarf reserved for upperclass women of Rome, was now a makeshift bag for numerous scrolls you had stolen, detailing the history and craft of your people. Those were all going with you and you’d guard them with your life.

You were still bitter about what your people had done to you. You might always carry some resentment for the rest of your life, but the warriors of your tribe had given their lives to save those selfish creatures and you wouldn’t allow them and their sacrifice to be dismissed by history just because the people they fought to protect were ungrateful bastards.

Your haul made for an odd little collection of treasure. You had also taken to wearing the shiny, gold anklets you found. These were typically reserved for the… courtesans of your village. The women who kept themselves standing by laying on their backs. They were frowned upon by common folk, but were considered desirable nonetheless. There was no one left now to judge you for your dress being too short or the anklets you wore with your wreath and your dagger.

You were the last living member of the Hamon tribe and a bride to gods. Dressed in all gold, or wearing nothing at all would make you no less of a queen.

“Master Esidisi?” you greeted him upon finding him again. He quickly smiled when he saw you, but you could tell something had happened.

“You look beautiful by the light of the fire as you do in the daylight, my dear,” he said, standing up and coming to welcome you.

You noticed at least one of the vampires had… well it had died, but you couldn’t phantom what had happened to it. It looked like it had blown up and then melted. “Don’t worry about that thing. It decided to berate me when it couldn’t find what I had ordered it to search for.”

“What was it supposed to search for?” you asked. It probably wasn’t anything you’d picked up. The scrolls had all been in plain sight and you didn’t need to search hard for fine clothes and jewelry.

“The chief of your village had come into possession of a precious red stone, called the Aja. I ordered the vampires to search his home for it, but they found nothing,” he explained.

“Tsk, as if that cowardly bastard would hide anything you might look for in his own house,” you muttered, jumping when you realized what you had just done. Perhaps you drank a bit too much wine earlier. “Don’t kill me, I just know what a prick he used to be!”

“I wouldn’t kill you for such an infraction, (Y/N). You are my bride and equal. This vermin didn’t know his place,” he assured you. “Where would he hide the Aja if not in his home?”

“I can’t say for sure…” you started. Giving the wrong answer seemed more dangerous than not knowing, but you could hazard a guess in this case. “I imagine he’d hide it where he hid everything he really cared about. His mistress, his bastard children and your stone,” you said, pointing to the little home uphill. It was near the treeline and his sons and mistress were among the first to be devoured by vampires as a result. The elderly chief hadn’t been one of your favorite people to begin with, but losing his sons and the woman he loved made him worse.

You looked around the home you knew well, noticing the loose stones around the fireplace in the kitchen where no one would think anything was hidden.

“I have been by this house before,” Esidisi said.

“I think I found something,” you said, prying the stone loose stones out.

“Your sister was here, gathering your things,” he continued, insisting.\

“It’s stuck, could you please help?” you asked, trying to ignore him.

“You were the chief’s illegitimate daughter, is that right?” he asked, just as the stone came loose and you flopped backwards onto your old kitchen floor, gold and silver accessories jingling as you went.

“Ow…” you huffed, looking up at your husband from where you lay. “I spent enough time crying over that already. I have better things to waste tears on now,” you answered with a long sigh, slowly sitting back up.

There was a box in a little hollowed out space you uncovered. “He loved my mother and my brothers, but not me. I think he felt I should have died before any of them. I figure that was his real reason for sending me as a sacrifice. My sister was in the same boat as me, but she found herself a good husband.”

“Was he killed by the vampires, or one of us?” Esidisi asked, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Typhoid, almost a year ago. My nieces lived with me during that time. Gods forbid they might have caught it too. I loved them so much… My mother still thought herself my father’s true love, ignoring how she was led on and made to live in poverty, treated like an adultering whore for being with a married man. My brothers were young, though they got it in their heads just like our mother that they would be in charge someday. Our father loved them, though. Had them trained to be warriors since they were children. In the end they didn’t wake up in time to scream, let alone fight… It’s been a few weeks since then...” you explained, crying again, but less frenzied than before. All that wine was definitely keeping you from throwing another tantrum, if only because you’d fall over if you tried.

“My sincerest condolences for your loss and you have my respect for what you did to save your sister and nieces,” your husband whispered. “You will never be disrespected like that, my sweet. We shall treat you as a goddess, as you rightfully deserve to be,” he promised.

You could tell he was serious, despite his ruthlessness in battle. His condolences were sincere, and you were grateful he’d been the one to send your sister on her way.

“You don’t mind that I’m human? Whatever happened to the women of your kind?” you asked.

“Our tribe existed until some eight thousand years ago. I was Lord Kars’ right hand in his endeavor to elevate our immortal kind through the stone masks, but they rejected his views. Kars decided if they wanted to spend eternity cowering underground instead of striving for more, then they might as well be dead,” Esidisi explained. “When he gave the order, I did not hesitate. The only ones spared were Wamuu and Santana, who were only infants at the time. Regardless, I say he chose his companions well. Yourself included,” he said, kissing your forehead.

By now your eyes had to be wide as saucers and you were regretting not bringing more wine, which might have made that story a little easier to unpack.

“I can’t say for sure whether you made the right choices, but wiping out all women of your immortal kind and then choosing me definitely sounds like a decision made by someone stabbed in the head with several stone spikes,” you said, making him laugh again.

“My beautiful (Y/N), what matters is that lord Kars sees the potential of a goddess in you and more than any creature that has ever walked this earth he has been a master of realizing such potential,” your husband assured you, taking the box you had almost forgotten about and flipping it open, revealing the brilliant red stone inside. “And you have just brought us one step closer with the gift you procured.”

It was explained on the way back up the mountain that their aim was to retrieve this stone to complete the stone mask lord Kars had created with the intention of allowing them to endure sunlight. It answered several questions you had and raised a million more, but your first order of business would be to present the stone to your husband and master.

“Lord Kars, we have returned!” Esidisi announced when you entered the temple. Kars was seated on his throne, his expression unreadable. He had let down his hair from under the tight wrap and it flowed down his back in elegant black waves, as dark and infinite as the night sky.

“Did you find it, Esidisi?” he asked, his eagerness betraying his stoic facade.

“I did not,” he said. Kars’ grip on his armrest cracked the solid marble and his red eyes shone furiously in the firelight. You flinched, wanting to smack your husband for teasing like this, but you were too nervous to speak already. “Rest easy, my lord. Our beloved bride did find it,” he said, ushering you forward.

You kneeled at his feet and humbly presented the stone. Kars pulled you into his lap and smiled, a genuinely happy smile as he kissed your cheek.

“Anything in the world shall be yours, my beautiful sunshine, for it is the world you have given us tonight,” he said, kissing your lips before taking the stone to examine it more. You felt an overwhelming joy bubble up in your chest, overpowering the grief and spite that had been festering there.

Esidisi looked almost smug, smiling up at you in his master’s lap. Like he was proud of himself you were getting praised.

All until Kars took a closer look at the stone. His expression turned to an annoyed sneer, and he glared at you so sharply you just about fell off his lap.

“Is it a fake, master Kars?” Wamuu asked while Esidisi approached to help you up and assure you again that you wouldn’t be eaten.

“This stone is genuine, but it is a plain Aja, far too small to serve its purpose,” Kars answered, shutting the box with a loud clack that made you flinch. “This is what we exhausted so much energy on…” he muttered, rubbing his forehead like he was fighting off a headache.

“The night is young, lord Kars. We can renew our search for the super Aja right now if you wish?” Esidisi offered.

Kars looked at Esidisi, then down to you, his expression softening slightly.

“No, that won’t be necessary, Esidisi. In fact, I might have some use for this stone after all. You can spend the night with our bride, seeing as how you’ve dressed her for the occasion,” your master declared, his eyes roaming over your figure, taking obvious note of your ankles. He stood up and grabbed the marble armrest he’d cracked, his muscles bulging as he ripped a slab of marble clean off. He picked up the stone and then plucked your wreath from your head and turned to head back into the catacombs.

“A shame. I thought the wreath matched your anklets rather well,” Esidisi said playfully, running his fingers through your hair. You blushed, but leaned into his touch regardless.

“I put those on cause they’re pretty. Not as an invitation… Kars is scary when he’s mad. What do I do?” you asked, feeling like you might cry again. You’d done your best, and you had no idea how big the stone needed to be! It wasn’t your fault!

“He isn’t mad at you,” Wamuu assured you. “I will head out with the vampires to continue our search. We know that the red stone of Aja traveled the silk road from Asia to Rome. We’ll just have to find it.”

“He knows not to blame you for this. Lord Kars is more sensible than that. He’s frustrated, because our fight with the hamon tribe took a great deal of energy and while consuming the remaining villagers replenished some of it, we have little time before even that runs dry,” Esidisi explained, picking you up and kissing your forehead.

“What happens when it does?” you asked, the pillarmen exchanging a worried glance.

“Either we must consume what might well be an army of humans, or we must go to sleep and hopefully recover,” Esidisi explained.

“What? I-I wouldn’t argue with you consuming humans as you need, but what would be wrong with sleeping?” you asked. You hadn’t caught any of them sleeping, but you assumed they could, just like any other creature.

“When we sleep, we turn to stone and it could well be a thousand years or more before we awaken. You would not be there to greet us when we awaken,” Wamuu explained, looking down at the ground.

“How much time do you have left?” you asked, once again feeling the ring in your chest weigh heavy on your heart, but not because you were excited this time.

“About as much time as is left on your engagement ring, beloved,” Esidisi said.

Wamuu took all vampires with him, scattering them in every direction to search for information on the red stone, leaving Esidisi himself to fetch something you could actually eat while you waited in his room.

“You shouldn’t have,” you said, bashfully accepting the basket of goods he returned with, although the sight of food had your stomach painfully clenching to remind you of just how hungry you were. On your wedding day you had refused to eat, scared senseless and struggling against everything being offered to you. After your evening with Wamuu you had spent almost the entire day asleep, meaning you were going on two days without food at this point. No wonder that wine earlier got you drunk so quickly.

“I wouldn’t make you descend and climb a mountain twice on an empty stomach. It was foolish of me to have let you return without eating in the first place,” Esidisi responded, smiling as you started to dig in. The basket had fruit and bread and cured meats and cheese, and you hurriedly started popping grapes in your mouth.

“Thank you so much,” you said, holding your hand in front of your half full mouth. “Can you eat this?” you asked out of curiosity.

“I could pretend. I can appreciate the flavor, surely, but it wouldn’t sustain me,” he answered. “Your body produces its own life energy. Mine can only draw on the life energy of other living beings.”

You looked at your basket, at the cured meat inside. You thought of how many animals died every year to keep you fed. You wouldn’t eat another human, but you’d come to realize the gods you were married to didn’t kill for their own amusement or even to defend themselves. Only to eat.

And while it may have felt like cruelty, humans were simply not used to being prey. Not used to being the wary herd, stalked by ferocious predators, and knowing that their only hope was that someone either braver or weaker would be killed off first and still their hunger another night.

On the other hand, could you justify yourself standing by as an army worth of humans were turned into food? It was true he said army, but that was an awfully justifiable way of putting it. Army made it sound like a threat. Like it was kill or be killed. In reality even if they only picked off strong men, worthy of being soldiers, that would just leave an army worth of widows and children defenseless and possibly starving.

Would they even give you the antidote? You thought you’d grown closer with Wamuu and now Esidisi and Kars had chosen you himself, but you still wore the poison ring around your heart. If they were going to sleep, they wouldn’t have a reason to keep you alive either. Why would they allow their bride to run off on her own if she was going to die before they woke up again? Maybe that was the point all along. To hold the ring’s curse over your head so you wouldn't run away until they didn’t need your little mortal self anymore.

“You’re worrying about something silly,” Esidisi said, cutting through your line of thought as if he’d been reading your mind. “You have a very expressive face,” he explained.

“It’s not silly,” was the first thing out of your mouth before you thought to deny it. You probably just sounded immature. “I guess to a god being worried about dying would sound like some silly human concern…”

“You won’t die, beloved. We won’t allow it,” Esidisi answered simply.

“What about the wedding ring?” you asked, putting a hand over your heart. your husband nodded, understanding.

“You’re worried we won’t save you if we don’t find the stone in time to escape our thousand year sleep?” he asked. You nodded, putting the basket away on a side table.

Esidisi’s bedroom was larger than Wamuu’s and so was the bed you were seated on. The silk covers and furs from exotic animals in the candle light looked and felt like some kind of dream. It didn’t help the part of your brain that was whispering none of this was meant for you and like a dream it would come to an end long before you wanted it to.

“We’ll do everything we can to secure the stone first. If that fails, we can buy ourselves more time as needed,” he said, taking your hands in his. “It pains me to think you’ll live a mortal life at all. I realize by comparison it is selfish, but I wouldn’t want to wake up in a world without you in it…” he sighed, thumbs stroking over the many rings on your fingers. He didn’t suggest making you a vampire, which you were grateful for. The thought of spending centuries in the dark consuming humans while waiting for them to return made you sick to your stomach.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered. “It’s just so hard to believe when my own people didn’t want me alive… You barely know me…”

“I know enough to have fallen for you and everything I have come to learn has made me love you more,” he responded.

“I-I… Esidisi…” you whined, wanting to bury your face in your hands, but he wouldn’t let go. Your face was red. Had it been so hot in his room the whole time? Every other underground room had been so cool.

“I will have you know the extent of my adoration, my beautiful dancing flame,” he said. “If Kars won’t see reason, I will make him.”

Somehow knowing that he would disagree with Kars for your sake was a greater declaration of love than any words or gifts and you leaned in to kiss his lips.

“I love you too… I don’t want to cry anymore, please,” you said softly, burying your fingers in his soft, white hair.

“But you cried so beautifully for Wamuu last night,” he whispered. You whined and buried your face in his neck.

“You were listening?!” you asked. You thought Esidisi had been out that night.

“How could I not have heard you screaming like that? You sounded so eager. I have lived thousands of years and yet this evening has tested my patience more than centuries spent looking for the stone. Now I finally get you all to myself~” he purred, reaching over to the nightstand and pinching the candle wick between his fingers to snuff out its flame. You heard the soft sizzle of his flesh burning as he hadn’t wet his fingers to do it, but he didn’t even seem to notice. Every light that died let the shadows of the room creep closer, but you weren’t scared or even worried.

In the dark you could still sense him moving while he was so close. The soft, delicate silks of your new clothes slipped off easily and you were about to start on your jewelry, but your master really had run out of patience.

“Keep them on. You look beautiful,” he praised, pulling you in for another heated kiss. You wished you could take some of his clothes, but you had already noticed those were stitched into his skin. You did not expect him to remove his sewn on chest plate just so you could kiss and nuzzle his chest more freely, which was why the loud sound of stitches snapping surprised you.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” you asked finally.

“I hardly feel any pain at all and my body heals quickly. I rather enjoy the thrill when I do feel it. It’s exhilarating,” he explained. You were about to reach out and touch his chest when something hot and slim coiled around your wrists and pulled them back above your head. You couldn’t see what it was and the sharp tug made you help, but you knew it was just your husband, even if you couldn’t quite tell what he’d done.

“I will show you pain if you don’t stop teasing me,” you huffed, making him laugh.

“You are too adorable, trying to threaten me, my little flame,” he said through his laughing, something hot and wet dripping from the coils around your wrists, making you shiver. His hands around your waist moved and still your hands were pinned, immobile, which was frustrating, because not only could you not see your lover without his painful looking armor, you couldn’t touch him either. His fingertips felt hot, as if by remnant of the flames he extinguished between them, but by now you knew better. That heat was all his and glowed fiercely from within and you vaguely suspected he held it back some, just to touch you without hurting you when he explored your naked skin.

There was something sensual about being dressed in nothing but your jewelry before him. The bracelets entwined with the warm twine that held your arms in place. The thin strands of twinkling gold, laden with gems around your neck, resting lightly against the top of your bare breasts. The anklets you still wore, a coquettish little accessory that would have branded you a shameless whore to the humans you knew. Still your husband regarded you as a far greater treasure, stroking your thighs and kissing your neck as if he were mapping out every inch of you with his touch, even though you knew he could see you in the complete darkness.

“Please, Esidisi…” you murmured, wanting to feel his heat deep inside your core. You could already tell this would be nothing like with Wamuu. He’d been all chivalry, slowly testing the waters, infinitely patient until you gave him the all clear to have his way with you.

Esidisi was more in control, using that to his advantage to tease you mercilessly. He was taking things slow to savour you, not because he was holding anything back. His demeanor exuded a confidence and experience that made you feel safe, even if his slow pace had you craving more already.

“Please what, my darling?” he asked, pushing you down against the bed and you could feel the mattress dip where he kneeled over your small, exposed form. In the pitch black darkness you couldn’t see him right in front of you, but you felt the warmth radiating off him like a flame still. “Would you rather I take you like a beast in heat, little one? So eagerly crying for more~”

Heat was a very apt description of your current desire, in every sense of the word and he knew it. Threats and orders would make him laugh and requests would be easily overruled, but Esidisi never once denied you when you begged.

“Please, my master, my lord, my king! I need you to touch me. Make me yours. Burn me up! I need you!” you pleaded, rubbing your thighs together, only to have them roughly pried apart.

“No wonder Wamuu lost control with you so easily. With such a charming spark you possess you should be careful what you wish for,” he warned, and you could feel his breath against your labia, already anticipating what would happen next.

Knowing what would happen and being prepared for just how good it would feel were still two different things and more of the hot tendrils wrapped themselves around your legs, keeping you open and exposed while your god and master indulged in the taste of you. He worked his tongue deliberately, aiming to please in a way that told he took just as much pleasure in the act himself.

“A-Ah, yes! Oh my god… please please please don’t stop!” you pleaded, losing yourself too quickly to even try holding back your orgasm. His thumb worked your clit in slow, deliberate circles, while his tongue dipped hungrily into your wet pussy, as if craving your taste.

You came screaming, arching off the bed as far as your bonds would allow, while Esidisi continued to work you through your climax with his gentle, loving touch.

“You’re incredible, my love. I am so thankful I get to have you all to myself tonight. I can already imagine the fights over who gets to have you in their bed, our most coveted treasure,” he whispered while you caught your breath.

“Hmm… Ah, but all else being equal… won’t I get a say in that?” you asked, panting to catch your breath. The bindings around your wrists loosened and moments later you could feel his fingers pushing into your sensitive opening.

“True, true, very true,” he agreed, as his warm, battle calloused fingers explored your most sensitive spots. His heat inside was making you tremble and you almost desperately wanted more of it, despite having cum once already. “I suppose I’d better give you a reason to choose me when the time comes,” he said, rubbing insistent circles at a spot that made you whimper with need.

With your hands now free, you reached blindly into the darkness, finding his immensely broad shoulders and muscular arms. You carded your fingers through the soft white curls of his hair, pushing the fabric of his headpiece off and feeling the sharp horns he kept concealed under it.

“I-If you want to give me a reason… P-Please fuck me… I can take it already, please~” you begged. You could just make out the way his breath hitched and the sharp intake of breath before the bindings around your legs dragged you hallway into your lover’s lap and you could feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against you to replace his fingers.

“I am going to ruin you…” he growled softly, gripping your hips and slamming in deep.

You arched your back and keened, the edge of pain eased by his warmth and the pleasure of having him inside.

“What a glorious little spark you are, sweet (Y/N). Let me have you like this forever. Let me shower you with affection so that you may always wear such a lovely expression,” he murmured, kissing your lips while his hips rocked steadily with yours, his pace intensifying until the bed under you shook. It was nowhere near the feral pounding you’d enjoyed from Wamuu the previous night, but it was enough to leave you reeling regardless.

You giggled briefly, shaking your head. “I-Imagine… If I made that face at lord Kars? No… just now… just you… Esidisi~...” you responded. He chuckled and lifted you further onto his lap, holding you close while he slowed to grinding deeper inside you than you would have thought possible. It felt so incredible your eyes fluttered shut and you slumped against his rock-hard chest, finally getting to rub your face on it, though your attention was firmly drawn elsewhere.

“I imagine he’ll be inclined to make you show that face for himself soon. He’ll be as enamored with it as I am, beloved,” he said, his heat all around and deep inside you. It felt so comforting and safe in his arms, even wrecked by wave after wave of pleasure. “Still, I will cherish this moment where you are mine and mine alone~”

You were going to cum again. The pleasure like this wasn’t as overwhelming as being pounded like before, but it was constant, inescapable and so intense you could only mewl softly in agreement and try not to drool.

“So small and sensitive. You are far too tempting not to tease,” he said, still rocking into you slow and deep, letting out a deep, guttural moan when he felt you quiver and tighten around his hard cock. He didn’t stop or slow down, keeping his pace and dragging your breathtaking orgasm on into what felt like minutes.

“Ah~ S-So much… t-too much! Esidisi… Too much~!!!” you whined, weak little fingers clutching at his shoulders, digging into his skin as you braced yourself against the tidal waves of climax.

“You can endure more than you think, little one. I will show you the true heights of pleasure,” he purred, the intensity of his movements ramping up and the intensity of your never ending peak with it.

You were spilling all over his lap, crying out nonsensically while Esidisi built back up to the bed rattling rhythm from before. You’d never imagined feeling pleasure like this, dancing on the razor’s edge of pain, but never crossing it. The last part of your brain that still had any sense left wondered what love making like this could be building towards, as you were already cumming, but you could feel something building regardless.

You dimly wondered if some sort of double orgasm was possible and the thought was funny to you.

You wanted to share it, but between gasping and panting for breath and the lust clouding your mind you couldn’t get a word out.

Then you felt Esidisi slamming in hard and deep, flooding you with more of his divine warmth to the point of overflowing, and you had the answer for what could possibly beat ecstacy like you had been feeling before.

The last thing crossing your mind was complete and utter satisfaction before you completely and utterly passed out.