#i love that pale vampire more than anything but it is so unfair how much he has compared to wyll . like its ridiculous

[valentineveils]

we're done adding content [adds 12 new subclasses] [doesnt add new content for the companions , especially wyll , left in the dust]

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ close your eyes ✦

this chapter pairing; sub!seokmin x vampire!reader

genre&warnings; vampire!reader, sub!seokmin, dacryphilia(crying kink baybeee)🥴, corruption kink kinda went brrr in this a little, lots of teasing, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, tiniest hint of orgasm denial, whiny needy seokmin, allusions to subspace.

he said:

notes; THE-- ☠️ I exposed my crying kink in sdpp so we out here living our best lives now 😗💖 also seokmin being a whiny baby and crying bc everything you do to him is new and just too much for him is so fuckin hot ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ HENNYWAYS, you guys!! I cant believe monster mash is almost at the end, how the hell?!? this went by so fast 😭💕 and thank you for all the love and support on each chapter! even when tumb1r seems to hate me!! Lol, and for those in SoCal, be safe! stay indoors if u can, wear a mask if u have to be outside! And stay hydrated!! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~2300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x - x - x - x

you take a drag, i take a sip;

i want your legendary kiss

you know i got designer taste;

and your design’s too good to waste

when the beast comes out at night;

yeah, it always wants a bite

and i try, try to resist;

but then the devil always wins.

Seokmin doesn’t believe in vampires.

He thinks Halloween is fun, but doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or anything of the sort so he spends the night in; feet propped up on the coffee table as he watches another rerun of another vampire horror flick that he’d seen at least two times prior.

It’d been thankfully quiet for most of the night, despite the pouring rain and periodic thunder claps, but he enjoyed the way it added to the spooky atmosphere of the holiday.

Seokmin scoffs at the TV a few moments later, hand lodged deep in the bowl sitting in his lap. “Vampires aren’t even real.” He mutters.

“Says who?”

The bowl of popcorn in his lap is sent flying, and he acts quicker than he, himself, anticipates. “Who the fuck are you!? How did you get in here!?” His eyes dance over to the front door still locked and momentarily wonders if he left a window open.

He pales, realizing that it’d be impossible anyway.

Seokmin lived on the 17th floor of the building.

“Well!? Fuck---I’m---I’m gonna call the c-cops!” His shaky hands reach for his cell phone on the coffee table as you giggle.

You take a seat on his sofa, picking off a piece of discarded popcorn as you pop it into your mouth. “And tell them what? Exactly?”

“That there’s a psycho in my fuckin’ apartment and that you broke in!” Seokmin holds onto his phone a little tighter, palms clammy. He didn’t even hear the door open. You nod, pretending to think. “Oookay, so what are you gonna tell them when I do this?” You disappear in a puff of smoke and Seokmin feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Wh---”

“Boo!” You whisper from behind him, laughing when he runs roward and trips back onto the sofa. “What the fuck!?” His eyes show panic and confusion, shaky fingers letting go of the phone that was in his hand as it clatters to the floor.

“I--What are y-you? Please, don’t take my soul, it’s all I have left! I swear!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, doubling over as he watches in fear. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I---you--you’re a funny one!” You wipe a stray tear from your eye as you catch your breath. “No, I don’t want your soul, I just want something to eat, that’s all~”

Seokmin’s eyes only read confusion when he stares back at you. “You want… food?”

“Mmhmm~”

You smile wide and Seokmin finally understands.

Ah. That kind.

He doesn’t know why he agrees. 

Maybe it’s in his kind and innocent nature to believe you won’t suck him dry like a caprisun, but he agrees.

Maybe part of it is curiosity too and maybe part of him feels bad that maybe you haven’t fed in a while, but he introduces himself after you do and he finds himself trusting you a little bit more.

He’s not totally sure why.

“So----So how does this work, do I just---” He cuts himself off as he shakily turns his head to the side. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t a Halloween prank?! Did Jeonghan put you up to this?”

“Oh! Jeonghan, you know him?”

Seokmin’s eyes almost fall out of his skull. This couldn’t be happening. “Are we talking about the same Jeonghan? Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, lanky guy with brown hair, right? Super lethargic?”

Yep. That was Jeonghan.

Seokmin nods slowly, still a little perplexed. “So, why do you know him exactly? He hasn’t replied to my texts for the last three days... You didn’t... do something to him, did you?” You sit next to Seokmin on the sofa and he flinches almost immediately; scooting over a little more to put some space in between you two.

  He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he thought you were really pretty.

“Um, no. He’s out of town and maybe just ignoring you but he lets me feed sometimes, y’know, when he is around. Maybe that’s why I was drawn here, y’know? Familiarity.” Damn.

Seokmin does feel a little bad now; for himself and for you. He bites his lip as the heat rushes to his face. “How---how do you usually, um, d-do it with Jeonghan?” The heat rushes down his body at the same time at his unintentional innuendo. “I mean, no! Not---not that, I meant how you feed! Fuck, sorry!”

Grinning, you’re quick to make your move as you push Seokmin down onto the sofa and straddle his waist.

“Wh--”

The words are caught in his throat as he watches you lean over to the coffee table to pluck out a lollipop from the bowl of candy. You unwrap it, licking it once before you bring it down towards his lips. He shakily parts them, welcoming the cherry flavoured candy into his mouth.

“You see, Seokmin,” You start, hands already roaming down his torso as he moans around the candy. “When people think of vampires, they think vampires just feed whenever, right? Just a quick bite here and they’re done.” He nods. “But that’s no fun~ So some of us like to play a little first, y’know? Get the blood rushing~”

You cup him through his sweats as he whines and he’s quick to thrust his hips up into your touch before he can even think properly.

Oh, fuck! Don’t do that! He tells himself.

A giggle from you is all it takes for him to blush even harder. “It’s okay, Seokmin. I want you to feel good too. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

“Y-yeah… O-okay…” His voice is muffled slightly from the candy still in his mouth, but he allows himself to lean into your touch. In truth, he was a little scared and a little nervous and he knew you could tell.

“Have you ever done anything… with restraints? Or things like orgasm denial?” You pluck the lollipop from his mouth; a thread of spit connecting it to his lips before you bring it to your own mouth. You quickly bite down on the hard candy, breaking it down into small pieces before swallowing. Seokmin grimaces a little.

“Um…” He’d never even heard of orgasm denial before, much less even had a thought about restraints. “...No. I--I’ve only… um… done it twice...”

You grin down at him, eyes flashing red. “Oh, Seokmin… you have so much to learn.”

You like shy Seokmin.

Maybe even a little too much.

“A-ah, no… no more t-teasing, I--ah!” He lets out a choked sob, hips thrusting up as you continue to tease the head of his cock. You move frustratingly slow and you don’t even bother to wrap your whole hand around him, instead just rubbing your palm across the tip as the tears pool up in his eyes.

“I--I don’t---mmh!” Seokmin bites his lip. He’s never felt quite like this before and the feeling was good, but unfamiliar.

“Don’t even think of cumming either~”

“But--” He chokes up again, except this time he can’t stop the tear that slides down the side of his face. You smile down at him, licking your lips.

“You’re so cute when you cry~ So pretty~” You pity him a little so you wrap your hand around his cock, working your hand up and down his shaft as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so he keeps them crossed over his chest, sweater paws keeping his clammy palms contained as he watches you.

“I--p--please, can I c-cum?” He whispers, voice small and slurred. “Nope~”

He lets out a small sob as he tries to blink away the tears.

When you feel him getting close, you pull your hand off of him; easing off of his lap and to the other side of the sofa. Seokmin watches in confusion, sitting up slightly as he watches you slide your panties down your legs. You toss the material at him, laughing when it falls onto his cock.

“We’re gonna play a little game~” He watches with an open mouth as you spread your legs; gulping when you immediately run your precum covered fingers through your wet folds. “We’re gonna touch ourselves just like this, across from each other, and if you can hold off your orgasm for, oh let’s say, 10 more minutes? Then I’ll reward you.”

“And---and if I c-can’t?”

“If you can’t… Hmm~ Then I’ll have to bring my ropes next time~” You wink at him, fingers pinching your clit as you moan out loud. The noise is enough for Seokmin’s cock to twitch and he wraps a shaky hand around himself as he watches you touch yourself from across the sofa. He uses your panties too, covering them in the precum that leaks from the head of his cock. 

It falls into relative silence as Seokmin bites into the neck of his sweater to keep in his high pitched whines and cries. He watches as you sink two fingers into your cunt and he sobs as he thrusts up into the his fist and your panties wrapped around his cock.

This is unfair, he thinks. 

“Mmh Seokmin~ I’m already imagining your cock fucking into me so deep… Ah, my fingers just aren’t enough~” Teasingly, you curl and scissor your fingers inside of your tight warmth, genuinely imagining it’s Seokmin instead. He releases the sweater material from between his teeth, drool dripping from his lips and eyes pooling with tears ready to spill.

“Please, I, hic, I--I can’t h-hold off, hic, I need t-to, hah, c--cum… I--I can’t...”

In a flash, the air is knocked out of Seokmin’s lungs as his back hits the sofa and he’s staring up at the ceiling. His sticky fingers find purchase in the material of his sweater again as you crawl back into his lap. You pry off the soaking panties covering his cock, tossing them to the coffee table as he groans.

You wrap a hand around his leaking cock, moving your hand up and down a few times before you use your thumb and index finger to circle the base as you squeeze hard. “Just a whiny baby boy crying and begging to cum. So cute~”

He squirms underneath you as he tries to get you to do something but you hold steady, fingertips wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming. “Now now, Seokmin. I’ll let you cum. But you have to be patient~ If you cum without my permission, I’ll make you wait even longer~”

Seokmin nods feverishly, uncaring of what came after. You still hadn’t fed from him too and he could’ve cared less about that.

You let go of his cock as he releases a shaky breath and he watches through foggy eyes as you raise your body until you’re hovering just above his cock. You use your hand to position him right at your entrance and Seokmin lets out a sharp whine when you drop yourself down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“A-ah, fuh--fuck!”

Your pussy is warm, wet and tight and Seokmin is really fighting a losing battle at this point.

He cries quietly, hips canting up to meet you bouncing in his lap.

“Mmh~ Seokminnie crying making me so fuckin’ wet~ Ah~ I’m gonna cum soon too~”

His head is fuzzy and every new sensation makes his body react in a way he never knew it could. The tears blur his vision but he can already feel his cock twitching and body tensing up slightly; a telltale sign that he was already close.

“I, hic, please…” He slurs out, already too far gone. His body felt weightless; a slight floating feeling overcoming him as he continued to fuck up into you. 

Your eyes flash crimson and you pry one of his arms away from his clothed chest, pushing the sleeve back as you kiss his wrist.

“Okay Seokmin~ I want you to cum, baby boy. Let me feel your cock throbbing and filling me up with your warm cum~”

Seokmin could die and be happy, thank you’s rolling off of his tongue through choked cries as he finally lets himself go.

The pleasure washes over him after a few more swivels of your hips and he barely even registers the fact you’ve already sunk your fangs into his wrist, too lost in his own bliss. 

You moan against his skin, drinking up just enough to get him lightheaded before you’re lapping up the wound.

Seokmin tasted extra sweet.

Licking your lips, you release his arm as it falls limp next to his body and you immediately bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing harsh and quick circles on the nub to get yourself to cum.

“Oh, god, Seokmin!” You cry; walls fluttering around Seokmin’s overly sensitive cock as he whines and squirms underneath you.

You ride out your high, hips coming to a stop as you catch your breath above him. Seokmin, on the other hand, feels a little delirious and warm; fingertips twitching at his sides. “Ngh…” He whimpers, unable to even speak with how exhausted he felt.

You lift your hips, cum sliding down Seokmin’s cock as he groans in oversensitivity. “Ah~ Look at how much cum you spilled in me, Seokminnie~” His bleary eyes watch as you let the cum slide out of your pussy and right over his cock and he almost, almost hates the way his cock twitches as the sight.

Sitting back on his thighs, you watch him bask in his post-orgasm glow; smacking your lips as you reach for another lollipop from the coffee table. “So~ How did you like it?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice when you visibly see his cock twitch.

His throat feels dry, that’s all he knows. 

Seokmin’s clammy palms slide back into his sweater paws, pressed tight against his chest again as he gently leans up. You can’t help but smirk at his appearance; puffy red eyes from crying and cheeks stained with drying tears with his cock still curving up to his abdomen covered in his own cum.

“I---s--so what’re you g-gonna teach m-me next…?”

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 1 (Supernatural AU)

Request: Can I get some vampire Komaeda x reader? I loved the Kokichi one and Komaeda is my absolute fave :3 thanks <3

This will be a full series with multiple chapters, not a head-canon or short imagine. Nagito is my favorite Danganronpa character, even ahead of Kokichi.

Part 2 here

Also this will be set in the DR3 anime universe, when they are all just Ultimates at Hope’s Peak before the Tragedy

- Admin Kokichi

     “When are they coming out?!” You could hear a girl roar from the crowd before you. It was your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, and already you could tell that at least some of the crazy rumors about the school’s eccentricities were true. You’d only been walking around campus, getting your bearings before you moved into the Main Course dorms later that evening.

     It was a bit odd to see a group of nearly a dozen girls from the Reserve Course waiting at the entrance to the Main Course building, waiting to watch some of the Ultimates walk to the cafeteria. I mean, being an Ultimate didn’t make one worth fan-girling over, right? But maybe you’d have seen their side of it if you weren’t an Ultimate yourself.

~

     Jin Kirigiri, the school’s headmaster, was a very close childhood friend of your father’s, as was the school’s recruiter, Koichi Kizakura. It was only natural that they both insisted you go there, especially with your talent. You were the Ultimate Hunter... or... that’s what your official transcripts said anyway. Your real talent was a little more… complicated to explain to a normal society.

     Your real and extended title was that of the Ultimate Monster Hunter, just like your father before you decades ago. That was your passion, your focus, but since you were also prodigious in the normal hunting of animals, that was the title Headmaster Kirigiri assigned you. Of course, Kizakura and Kirigiri knew of your family’s hunter lineage and the existence of supernatural beings, most of the higher-ups at Hopes Peak did, what with all the connections and respect the academy had garnered.

     Most governments, large corporations and upper-class citizens were privy to the existence of monsters, and those sworn to protect all humans from them, so of course Kirigiri knew of such things, however, he couldn’t exactly have you honing your skills in his classrooms and training yards. The general public would either think he’d gone mad for allowing such activities - training to kill beings that did not exist - or worse, they’d wise up and take notice, revealing the secret of supernatural creatures to the world.

     No, no, that couldn’t be allowed to happen, and so Kizakura and Kirigiri had you practicing your crossbow aim on animal-shaped dummies, had you doing general agility and reflex training. Your firearms were used in a high-tech shooting arena that doubled as a dojo when martial arts students arrived for their allotted lesson time.

     Honestly, you didn’t even want to attend Hope’s Peak, seeing as Headmaster Kirigiri had made it very clear that you couldn’t use any of your true talent anywhere on campus or even while in uniform off-campus. You also had to hide your face with a helmet or mask of some type while hunting from now on. You couldn’t be associated with or traced back to the academy in any way, should someone see you engaged with a monster and spread word of it before being apprehended by law enforcement. This rule was only made more severe by the fact that some of your fellow students were of the very species you made a living annihilating.

     That’s right, Hope’s Peak itself was host to the very rare vampire, werewolf, demon, shapeshifter or other manner of beast. Not all of them chose to be hostile or stuck out like a sore thumb, and hey, if you had the talent, you had the talent. It made you question why you should even give the academy a second thought. It felt like they were mocking you, letting inhuman creatures attend a school they personally invited you to, but your father all but forced you to enroll. He insisted it would be the best for your future, and that there’s no one he trusted more than Kirigiri and Kizakura.

     “But if anything… anything at all happens to (Y/N), Jin, I swear on our friendship, I will handle it myself,” he’d said. Your father’s words rung through your mind like a constant reminder. He meant it, too. Your father was the hunter of all hunters, a king of sorts in his circle. Kirigiri knew very well that letting him down was not an option.

~ 

     You stood on the very edge of the group, as far from the doors as possible but still near enough to the others that you wouldn’t look like some weird loner. You sighed, chuckling under your breath at their chittering. It was all so silly.

     “Here they come!” You were startled out of your trance when one out of the whole gaggle of girls before you squealed loudly. You walked toward the front of their group, fascinated by how excited they all were. You were merely curious to see what all the fuss was about. How could they possibly be this worked up about other students their age, just walking to lunch after class? Then again, you hadn’t met any of your fellow Ultimates. Was there some kind of beauty requirement to become one? Huh, wouldn’t surprise me, you thought rather cynically to yourself. This place loves to flaunt its students and reputation.

     “Look~ it’s Fuyuhiko!” One of the girls pushed roughly past you, grazing your shoulder. You could practically see hearts in her eyes as she passed.

     “Jeez, okay...” you muttered sheepishly and leaned back again. You may be a monster killer, but that only worked out because of the adrenaline rush and the lack of attachment and value placed on your targets. In normal life and social situations, it felt like you were the one being killed.

     Great! Now I can’t see anything! You mentally snapped at the fan-girls bumping and shuffling into you with every sporadic movement they made. You couldn't see anything, but you could certainly hear the girls get louder and louder by the second. You were now completely pushed to the side of the group as the girls grunted and hissed like rabid animals.

     “And that’s the lucky one! Komaeda, I think! Man, he’s so hot…” A random brunette drooled. 

Nagito Komaeda: Vampire

Status: Protected/Neutral

Classification: B

Unique Talents and Powers: A cycle of good and bad luck. All other unique traits under review.

Age: Unknown

Coven or Clan: None

     You mechanically recalled little bits and details from your dad’s casework and journals on the most famous vampires in the country. Nagito... yes… you were going to stay away from this one.

     The supernatural beings that could pass as human and were deemed not to be a danger to society signed contracts and treaties that allowed them to live out their lives like normal and protected them legally from hunters (much to your kind’s chagrin). They had strict rules to follow, however, and those who broke said rules were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and taken off the protection list, making them fair game to hunters. 

     You really didn’t understand why they kept giving the feral savages chances. Erasing the memories of witnesses, victims (if they survived), and their families after each attack or incident was costly and just unfair to mankind.

     The girls continued to shout and vie for the boys’ attention. Fuyuhiko huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the fuss they were making. This only served to rile them up further, however. It seemed the tough, flippant, bad-boy yakuza persona is exactly what they wanted. They loved the way he gave them the cold shoulder.

     Nagito, on the other hand, was a different case entirely. He didn’t just ignore the girls, he made an obvious show of his disgust for them. He was practically snarling, nose scrunched up as he leaned away from the crowd of them. It wasn’t annoyance at their mewling and squawking, it was something far different. Something like pure revulsion mixed with condescension. But why? It didn’t really matter, as the girls clearly didn’t pick up on his cues, shooting rapid-fire questions his way and reaching out for his sleeves. You scoffed. It was so shallow of them to only like him for his looks and title of Ultimate he held. They knew nothing about him. 

     What he could do to them if they got them alone. How him could kill them in an instant, and even possibly enjoy that kill.

     While you were lost in the abhorrence of your thoughts, Nagito’s eyes had honed in on you, noticed that you were wearing the same uniform as him, and promptly glided over in front of you.

     “Why, hello there!” Komaeda stopped right in front of you. You took a startled step back, but he grasped your hand, preventing you from moving any further away. You did everything you could to repress your fear and repugnance, but your hand still shook slightly in his cold, dead one, and you were sure he could tell. He giggled, obviously enamored with your very presence. “I don’t believe I've seen you before, but you must be in the Main Course as well! What’s your name, if I might ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna...” Nagito grinned widely, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. The girls swooned beside you. It seemed you were the only one afraid of what those teeth could do. He was deceivingly beautiful on the outside: tall, pale, doe-eyed, and dangerous. His Class B ranking put him just below the most dangerous of vampires, the elite, the royal clans.

     “(Y-Y/N). It’s my first day.” Your voice shook as you jerked your hand away roughly. It was hard to feel confident without your weapons on you, knowing there was nothing you could do to defend yourself here. Damn you, Kirigiri.

      Your father would be enraged if he knew you had just touched a vampire’s hand so casually. Nagito frowned slightly. He could sense it, the way you didn't trust him, the way you didn't like him down deep inside. He knew you knew something you shouldn't, knew more than the other humans attending Hope’s Peak, and he didn't like it. His brow furrowed in a display of frustration, but that quickly melted away, and he smiled kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners. He would figure out what made you special, even among the Ultimates he revered so passionately. Something was off, and it would kill him if he didn’t figure out why.

     “Well, (Y/N)” He leaned down to your height, his face inches from yours, breathing deeply. Almost as soon as he’d inhaled, he snapped back up, his spine stiff and straight. “Oh!” A look of almost painful surprise and confusion crossed his countenance.

     “What?” You panicked, looking him up and down.

     “Oh, uh, nothing… you smell really good, heh. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, huh? Wow, I’m really the worst...” he chuckled awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a display of innocence. Your mouth hung open, appalled. How could he be so bold about his nature in public? You knew exactly what he was smelling. The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in fear and vexation. Your reaction told him all he needed to know, and in that instant, he decided he wanted to know more. Nagito was the obsessive type, and you were going to be his new fixation. Why did you know? Who told you of his... condition? “Anyway, welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. I hope I have the honor of seeing you again.” You could hear the wave of extreme jealousy behind you. The heat of anger and envy for you was thick in the air.

     “Enough, Komaeda, ya big creep…” the small but feisty boy cleared his throat before continuing.  “C’mon, if you wanna have time for lunch it’s now or never!” You sighed in relief. Fuyuhiko placed his hand on Nagito's shoulder, pulling him gently away from you. 

     “Sorry, sorry!” Nagito offered a warm smile to his shorter friend. “I’m coming! I apologize, Fuyuhiko” He turned to you,“See you in class, (Y/N)” He simpered, and continued to trail along behind his friend.

     Not if you had anything to say about it…

     You were going to avoid that boy like the plague. Just because you couldn’t kill him, doesn’t mean you had to be best friends.

[sachigram]

I know Halloween has long passed (*sob*) but what do you think of Izaya as a Witch? 🤔 (maybe with a side order of Shizuo being his beastly but also angry familiar? 😂😂😂)

((Okay so I went rogue on this one. It’s funny because @lateniteslacker and I have an rp going where Izaya is a witch right now so I wanted this one to be darker and wanted Shizuo to be a beast for real.))

The thing about humans is, they really do have more in common with wild animals than they'd like to believe. Izaya has always studied human behavior extensively, obsessively, and he's always excited when a completely civilized person gives into their instincts, usually in a moment of complete desperation. The four f's really are a universal truth, and while Izaya is captivated by humanity as a whole, he can't deny he feels a certain...thrill in knowing society could topple at any moment, with only the slightest push, and then people would show their true colors and what lengths they would go to in order to survive.

Thinking this over, Izaya lifts his eyes to the beast pacing around his apartment. It's late at night, obscenely early morning, actually, but neither of the occupants in the apartment have slept yet. It's close to sunrise, Izaya realizes, and Shizuo has still yet to kill him.

“You're letting me live again? How generous of you, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and when Shizuo growls at him in answer, Izaya's lips curl into a small smile. Shizuo can't reply at length, of course. No werewolf in existence can speak when they're transformed.

Shizuo's body could be considered grotesque, but Izaya's never been squeamish, and he doesn't mind watching the huge monster walk in circles, his features lit only by the city lights streaming into the windows. His skin is dark and leathery, only some of it covered in thick, wiry fur. Shizuo's mouth is gaping and filled with sharp, jagged teeth, so many that it seems to be hard for Shizuo properly close it, thus making him leave drops of saliva in his wake. His eyes are the same color as normal, so dark they're practically a mirror for anyone who looks into them, but they're filled with bloodlust and hunger, instincts Shizuo would be acting on if not for Izaya's potion keeping him in his own mind.

“You could sleep, you know,” Izaya continues, watching with glee as Shizuo's ears perk towards Izaya, hearing him whether Shizuo wants to or not. “I'm not going to do anything to you. We seem to be in a truce, don't we? Unwilling companions.”

Shizuo snarls openly at that and makes his way over to the desk, looming over it and salivating onto Izaya's papers. Izaya merely looks up at him pleasantly, knowing Shizuo won't actually kill him. Shizuo is too afraid of being left alone to do so.

“Is it some kind of atonement? You think keeping yourself sleep deprived will help you feel better about what you are? It's actually only making it worse.” Izaya listens to Shizuo's deep, rumbling growl, and hears it for the question it really is. “I'm not awake because I want to be, Shizu-chan! It's not the same. You know I have insomnia. At the very least, I'm grateful for your company.”

Shizuo huffs and turns away from him then, going back to pacing. Izaya knows how cruel it is of him to act as if Shizuo has any choice to be here, but it hardly matters to Izaya why Shizuo is here. He's here. That's all Izaya needs.

It was months ago, another full moon. Izaya was fed up with Shizuo, wanted him gone for good. Shizuo wasn't rising to Izaya's challenges anymore, would actually ignore Izaya if they crossed paths on the street. More and more of Shizuo's time was spent with that woman, that doe-eyed assassin, and Izaya decided he was done playing around. He hired some men, some higher-ups in the Yakuza, actually, and Shizuo fought as he always does, but he couldn't avoid the sharp teeth when they broke his skin and infected him with something that could never be cured.

It took two weeks for Shizuo to come to Izaya. Shizuo was pale, haggard, looked as if he hadn't slept in days. He stormed into Izaya's apartment and demanded to know what was wrong with him, why he wanted to bite and tear, why his dreams were filled with blood and viscera— “guts” is what Shizuo actually said, but that's besides the point.

“Why did you come to me?” Izaya had asked. “What makes you think I know?”

The answer was more than Shizuo could put into words. All monsters make their way to Izaya sooner or later, all of them knowing Izaya can help if he chooses to. It's why Shinichi made contact with him, why the more beastly members of the Yakuza put up with him. Izaya is stronger than he looks, smarter than is good for him, and filled with a constant boredom that makes him dangerous. To top it all off, he's one of the only witches in Japan, and an incredibly powerful one at that.

Izaya explained that Shizuo was bitten by a werewolf, and he would succumb to his desires during the next full moon unless he relented to trusting Izaya to help, and at first, Shizuo stormed out, cursing, threatening to bash Izaya's head in. A week later, one week before the next full moon, Shizuo was back, looking worse than before, and he had a tired sort of acceptance about him that let Izaya know the monster had already worked through all the other stages of grief.

Now, they can be around each other for extended periods of time, but never without underlying malice and contempt in their words and actions. Shizuo refuses to take the potion home and be alone in this, and Izaya hardly minds being subjected to Shizuo's transformation, despite the fact that Shizuo keeps promising to kill him before sunrise. They're at an impasse, and like all shaky alliances, they're waiting for the other one to break it first.

The next time Izaya looks up from his computer, Shizuo is back to normal, curled into a ball in the floor, panting at the strain of his return to humanity. Izaya stands and goes to his side, offering him a blanket to cover his trembling, naked body, and Shizuo swats him away, sending Izaya toppling to the floor. Izaya only laughs, pleased Shizuo still has some fight in him. It's so much more fun this way.

“Fuck,” Shizuo hisses, lifting his head to glare openly at Izaya. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Izaya asks earnestly.

“Like you love this.”

Izaya opens his mouth to respond, but he decides Shizuo has suffered enough for one night. He stands and goes back to his desk, leaving Shizuo to his own devices. Normally Shizuo will dress and leave immediately, but he lingers this time, hovering almost uncertainly by Izaya.

“Your mind is a mess,” Izaya says, hating that he can hear the majority of Shizuo's thoughts. Izaya tries not to read minds very often, feels like it's an unfair advantage in his line of work, and he so loves an actual challenge. But Shizuo's mind is different; it's loud and demanding, wanting more than anything to be heard.

“Why are you helping me?” Shizuo asks.

“I help many members of this world and the next, Shizu-chan,” Izaya replies without looking up. “It's part of my job.”

“Why wouldn't you want me to lose my mind and kill someone? Everyone would know then, wouldn't they? That I'm a monster. Isn't that what you want?”

Izaya looks up at him at last, a bored expression on his face. “It's enough that I know it.”

“Bullshit,” Shizuo snaps. “I keep waiting for you to sell me out, to tell everyone what I am. Why the fuck haven't you? I wouldn't help you if the tables were turned.”

“I know that,” Izaya says, shrugging. “I guess you could say I've been touched by how pitiful you are. How helpless.” Izaya's smile stretches into a leer, and he can see the way it makes Shizuo's skin crawl. “You need me.”

“I could find someone else,” Shizuo says. “Celty could know another...magic person.”

“By all means, go find them,” Izaya says. “Go explore the country and beyond on your measly second rate bodyguard salary. Better yet, go to Kasuka and tell him what you are and beg him for help in finding someone else to give you the same potion I give you for free every month.”

Shizuo flinches at that. He's obviously terrified of Kasuka finding out, which is hilarious in itself, as Kasuka is dating Ruri, another of Izaya's clients. It's true she doesn't have much vampire blood in her veins, but she has enough to feel the bloodlust. Izaya hasn't told Shizuo any of that, though. If nothing else, Izaya is loyal to his clients until they give him reason not to be, even if those reasons are nothing more than being more interesting once they find out Izaya betrayed them.

“You could go to Celty, see if Shinra and his crazy father can help you look for a cure. You could do a lot of things, but you come to me every month.” Izaya rests his chin on his hand and watches Shizuo carefully. “Is it because you already hate me, so you don't mind me seeing you at your lowest?”

“Fuck you,” Shizuo says, and he marches towards the door. Izaya rolls his eyes and goes back to typing, but he looks up again when he realizes Shizuo hasn't left yet.

“Say whatever the hell you have to and then leave me alone,” Izaya huffs. He needs to finish this assignment soon, and he'd like to do it within the next few hours so he can sleep afterwards.

“I know how rare it is. What you are,” Shizuo says, his back still to Izaya. “Celty told me.”

“I'm surprised you spoke to her about any of it.”

“I didn't tell her what I am. I know she wouldn't judge me for it, but still, I just...” Shizuo trails off, and he turns to face Izaya. “But she knows what you are, and she told me. That's why I came to you.”

“And what did she say about me?” Izaya asks, amused. He knows the courier despises him, but he doesn't care much for her either aside what she can do for him.

“She said there's a reason witches are so rare, and it's because most of them have been killed off.” Shizuo moves closer. “She said the majority of them abused their powers, the same way you do, and that's why they're targeted so often.”

“She neglected to mention the part where it was everyone else who came to us first,” Izaya says sharply, remembering the first time he saw members of the other world. Ghosts, demons, monsters of every kind flocking to him, asking for help. He was a child then, a neglected one at that. He was on his own with no one to help him, and that was when he realized how unfair the world could really be. “You're always barking about how you can't control your strength, well I can't control this. I didn't ask for this either.”

“You did this to me,” Shizuo accuses. It's not the first time he's said it, but Izaya has never admitted to it.

“And if I did?” Izaya asks, annoyed by this entire exchange. “What are you going to do about it?”

Shizuo roars with rage and lurches towards Izaya, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall. He breathes into Izaya's face, his sharp teeth bared.

“Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?!” Shizuo shouts, and suddenly it seems as if he's being deflated, like all the strength is leaving him. He drops Izaya's feet to the floor, but he doesn't step away from Izaya's space. “Why can't you leave me alone?” he asks again, defeated.

“Because you're interesting,” Izaya says, and when he lifts his fingers to Shizuo's face, Shizuo only flinches slightly at the touch. “Because you're right, I'm alone in this, and you were alone, too. You were surrounded by people, but you were alone. No one knows better than me how that feels.”

“You ruined my life,” Shizuo says, no ire to it.

“You ruined mine first,” Izaya says, not bothering to elaborate. Shizuo doesn't seem confused, just tired, and when Izaya tucks his face into Shizuo's neck, the beast only growls softly before allowing it.

The thing about wolves is, they always protect their necks. It's one of their most vulnerable areas. Shizuo is allowing this, and that speaks volumes in itself. Izaya smiles and wraps his arms around Shizuo, clenching his fingers in the fabric of Shizuo's shirt.

“It'd be easier for you, wouldn't it? If you actually hated me,” Izaya murmurs. He presses his lips to Shizuo's neck, and he can feel the tremble of Shizuo's body before Shizuo's arms wrap around him in return.

“You won't die, right? You can't,” Shizuo says, his voice muffled in Izaya's hair.

“Wouldn't it be better for you if I did?” Izaya asks.

“Yes. No. Fuck.” Shizuo kisses the top of Izaya's head, and he makes a disgruntled noise when Izaya pulls away, growling until he realizes what it is Izaya wants. Their lips brush together gently, a complete contrast to all their harsh words and usual actions. “Izaya,” Shizuo breathes, clinging tight enough to Izaya to hurt.

“You won't be alone, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, sighing sweetly when Shizuo kisses him again. They wind up on Izaya's couch, their clothes scattered around them as they give into their basic instincts, showing each other just how beastly they can be.

[vcsecretgifts]

Happy Holidays @the-apostates-martyr ! I hope you had a good december so far and got through these difficult times. I almost fistpumped when I got my assignment because I am an avid Quinn fan. This little one-shot turned out a bit more pensive and foreshadowing than I liked so I added a little bonus drawing titled ‘a few hours before the tragedy’ to lighten the mood. I hope you like it!

From: @tjada-sees-the-world-go-round 

~~~

It’s been a difficult season. Not for me alone but also for Mona. I feel guilty for not enjoying it as much as I should considering all we lived and suffered through together. My melancholic mood not only makes me almost insufferable but also disturbs my lovely companion.

The winter solstice had passed and we could already feel the oppressive lengthening of the days in the bones of the earth. Oppressive only to us, of course. The new born children of the night. The nights that had lengthened with the slowly dropping temperatures had filled us with freedom and joy. How could they have not? We were new immortals hungry for anything and anyone who crossed our path in the darkness, in the night.

Images of my Ophelia crowned with flowers, dancing through the blackness, appeared to rise from the fog that had slowly settled around the old oak tree where I had sat down. Even though the real Mona was not too far away I was entranced by the lovely vision in the fog. Tendrils of thick vapour coiled around the legs of the dancing figure like snakes slowly wrapping themselves around tree branches. Her skeleton thin body twisted and turned and although my Salomé was made out of grey and dreary fog I could almost see her blood red hair in it. Her beautiful green eyes looked at me in a mocking fashion. “Look at what you’re denying yourself,” they seemed to say. But I was not denying myself. The ending of the longest night had put me in a strange mood and so I had wandered into the forest to be alone with my thoughts for a while. It was quite unfair that this hazy phantom of my Ophelia would mock me like this since I had suffered under pesky apparitions my entire life.

The night had only started and here I was caught in a horrible, self-deprecating mood with a dancing mist reflection mocking me while my lover was tucked away in the main house. I forcefully dragged my eyes away from the phantom and leaned my head back against the trunk of the oak tree. The tree had already shed all of its leaves and the twisted naked branches looked like pale skeleton hands grasping for something just out of their reach. Maybe they too miss the sun I thought and briefly wondered if vampires too could suffer from a winter depression. I had to laugh involuntarily. The immortals Mona and I had met on our aimless travel had seemed anything but mentally stable. Especially Lestats scattered entourage had left a long lasting impression of mania and misery on us. But who am I to judge? Still I silently giggled while thinking about Lestats answer to what he planned to do now. Lestat really had a sometimes questionable taste in companions. But what fun they had and would have again! The truly wonderful part about immortality was that one had all the time in the world to spend it with loved ones. Mona and I as well would have centuries to gorge ourselves on each other’s company, get sick of each other, fall apart, yearn and ultimately reunite again.

The cold bark of the tree behind me felt heavenly against my equally cold body. I imagined the tree breaking open and encasing me in it, only opening up when spring would begin to thaw the ground. I sighed, a persistent human habit, and opened my eyes. The sky above me had slowly started to lighten, the elegant black of a winter night silently phasing into a somber grey. And while my gaze was still fixed on the terrible bare skeleton branches of the oak tree I realised that little flakes of white slowly started to drift towards me. Finally, for the first time this season, it had begun to snow. A smile slowly formed on my face as I watched the little fluffs drift towards me. Each little ice crystal formed a perfect example of astonishing beauty and symmetry. I lifted one of my hands as if to catch one since they surely would not melt on my cold skin when I saw it.

Although I could not really tell how much time had passed since I closed my eyes, the hazy vision in front of me was still present. Only now my Ophelia’s grey doppelganger had begun to dance en pointe as if the ground itself would hurt her delicate feet. And then I saw the flames. The playfully coiling snakes from before had transformed into a horrible grey fire that licked and clawed at my lovers legs. Horrified I watched as her face twisted in agony before she finally turned towards me and in despair raised her arms in my direction, as if I could pull her out of that viciously burning fire and into the real world. Behind her looming like a stone cross over the grave, I saw vengeful, hateful Rebecca. I twisted my hands in agony into my own clothes and distantly noticed how I ripped the horrible sweater Mona had given to me with my vampire strength. Finally the flames engulfed her and the vision suddenly stopped. Only fog remained in front of me- no phantoms at all. For a moment I swore my heart had started beating again from the dread that filled my entire body.

Calm, calm you fool! I told myself. Not all visions are prophetic and nothing is ever as it seems. I willed myself to believe it and stood up. I had to return to the house. Had to go back to Mona.

Calm you fool, I scolded myself and started to walk back, quite shaken with what had transpired. Maybe it was time to get in touch with the others sooner than expected. What an end to our self-proclaimed honeymoon, I thought miserably and trotted through the falling snow.

[angstyaches]

heyy so you know that I honestly love everything you write buuuuut if you have time and motivation to work on a request I'd really love to see some sick elliot again but maybe just something really mundane? like just a fever and neausea and Felix being the cutest boyfriend? loaaads of fluff would be amazing since it's been so much angst lately haha - but please write whatever you want honestly

-em

Whoa, what’s this? Flick getting back to posting requested fics?! 

Thank you once again for requesting my boys, @justmeandmysickies; I’m sorry it took so long for me to get around to!

C\W: nausea, fever, general discomfort, slight anxiety, emeto, vampire emeto so there's blood mention

 _

It truly was a myth that vampires – even full-blooded ones – couldn’t stand daylight. In fact, Elliott loved daylight, and even chided Shayne for keeping the curtains shut in his room all day, much to his cousin’s annoyance.

Today, however, Elliott had created a shadowy cave for himself, a haven where he could curl up and bask in a certain level of sensory deprivation. At least, he would have been basking if he had been conscious. The last time he’d moved had been when Felix had gotten up to leave, and he’d blacked out again shortly after feeling a goodbye kiss on his cheek. The fever must not have been too bad at that point, if Felix didn’t wake him to check if he was okay, but it was most definitely soaring now.

His head was fuzzy now, as he peered out from under the sweat-soaked sheet. He shuddered and recognised the vaguely unpleasant sensation as oversleep, and he pawed clumsily for his chunky analogue watch, which was sitting on his bedside locker. It took his eyes a lot of blinking and a rub with the side of his hand before he could make out the time. Almost two in the afternoon, which was mildly horrifying for someone who usually rose shortly after dawn. 

How the hell had he managed to sleep for so long?

Elliott tried to sit up in bed, and his answer hit him like a punch to the gut. A little too much like a punch to the gut, in fact. His body must have knocked him out so he wouldn’t have to deal with the nausea.

He pressed one hand to his mouth and the other to the side of his head, the gold strap of his watch cool against his cheek. His stomach felt like it had leapt six inches closer to his throat, pinching in on itself and its heavy contents, which didn’t seem to have moved at all since he’d laid down last night.

As he sat there, his upper body swayed slightly. He let his eyes fall shut again, letting the waves of nausea that were thrashing about in his belly to settle down. As they did, the fuzziness in his head began to clear, too. 

Elliott gulped in tentative relief and slipped out from under the blanket. He’d gone to sleep in only his boxers, and as soon as the air in the room hit his skin, his muscles clenched. He was almost bent double as he shuffled to the wardrobe and pulled out the fluffy grey dressing gown and slippers that Felix had bought for him the previous Christmas; they had been intended as a joke present, but Elliott had used them more times than he could remember now.

The body spasms eased a little as he sank into the soft fabric and tied the sash. His shoulders were tight and achy and he kept his hands in the deep pockets as he made his way downstairs, which probably wasn’t the safest or wisest thing to do, considering how shaky and woozy he felt. Luckily, he made it to the front hallway without falling and breaking anything.

The house seemed quiet and settled, besides the low whooshing of the kettle being boiled in the kitchen. The further along the foyer he got, the better he could make out the sound of someone singing softly to themselves. The door was halfway-closed, and he bumped it the rest of the way open with his hip.

Relief tugged at his gut when he found Felix alone in the kitchen. No Shayne, no Ryan, no Nancy. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t confused.

“Where is everyone?”

Felix casually glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He was still in his fur-hooded jacket as he got a cup ready to make tea, meaning he’d probably only gotten home a few minutes ago. Maybe the sound of him closing the front door had been what had woken Elliott from his foggy sleep.

“I think Nancy dragged Ryan and Shayne shopping. Noteworthy feat, or what?” Felix turned around and fully observed his boyfriend’s hunched shoulders and heavy eyes, as well as the dressing gown. His gentle smirk melted into a frown. “Have you only just gotten out of bed, darling?”

Elliott nodded. He could feel the contrast between his internal body temperature, and the floor tiles separated from the soles of his feet only by the slippers. He shuddered at a sudden wave of vertigo, feeling his stomach roll inside him.

“How come?” Felix asked softly. “Are you feeling well?”

“No?” Elliott muttered, looking up and across the kitchen at his boyfriend again.

“What’s the matter?” Felix’s gaze didn’t waver as he stepped around the counter and pulled Elliott into his arms.

However, Felix hugging Elliott with no cooperation was about equal to him pressing his body up against a slab of concrete he couldn’t quite get his arms around; Elliott had to fish his hands from his pockets and lift his own arms, giving Felix access to his waist, so that he could embrace him properly.

“Darling?” Felix urged, his voice muffled from having his face pressed into the front of the dressing gown.

“I don’t – I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I just – I woke up this morning feeling exhausted,” Elliott droned. “But now I’m even more exhausted, and I feel like shit, and I can’t stop bloody shivering.”

Felix hugged him tighter at that. Elliott let himself melt into the hug, his insides feeling a little less pinched as he inhaled the scent from the top of Felix’s head. He could never pin down why, but Felix’s natural scent always made him feel like he was in a meadow surrounded by wildflowers.

He knew that if the nausea got any worse, the slight pressure of Felix’s torso against his would make him prickly and irritable. For now though, he genuinely felt steadier and safer in Felix’s arms. Even if his minty head was only as high as Elliott’s sternum.

“Gosh, you’re so warm,” Felix mumbled against his chest. It was unclear whether he was concerned about the fever, or just enjoying the cosy temperature.

“Well, soak it up while you can,” Elliott sighed. “Soon the fevers are gonna go away, and you’ll be stuck cuddling a walking corpse.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Felix tried to pull back and get free, but Elliott kept his arms looped around him. “No, stop; you don’t get hugs when you talk about yourself like that.”

“Oh, no-no-no, I’ll be quiet,” Elliott smiled, though his voice came out with only a little of the playfulness he intended to put into it. “I’ll be good. Please hug me, boo. Everything hurts.”

“Everything?” Felix chuckled; his voice was tinted with sarcasm, because surely everything couldn’t be painful all at once, right?

Elliott swallowed and lowered his nose to the top of Felix’s head again. His eyes fell shut, but it did nothing for the tension in his neck that was starting to creep deeper into his skull. His body was being held, but it did nothing for the chill that had set up camp in every one of his bones. And the inevitable was finally happening, probably brought on faster by the tightness of the hug; his stomach was starting to churn, making his skin break out in goosebumps and his teeth grind together.

“Yes.” He sighed as softly as he could when all he wanted to do was groan. “Everything.”

Felix pulled back, just enough for him to look up at Elliott’s face. The shorter boy’s yellow eyes flicked back and forth between Elliott’s, his face paling as he tried to assess how worried he should be.

“It’s not like I’m not in agony or anything,” Elliott admitted, longing for that frown to disappear, “but everything – everything feels wrong. Uncomfortable. And it’s – it’s like I can’t get it right anymore, you know? I don’t drink enough blood – sick. I drink too much blood – sick.”

“I know, darling,” Felix sighed. “It’s unfair, I know.”

Elliott wriggled in reaction to the rich taste of blood mixed with bile burning in the back of his throat. He put his hands against Felix’s arms and directed him back slightly, so he had a little more room to breathe.

“Oh, I’m... sorry,” Felix murmured. He seemed to tighten in on himself, shoulders tensed within Elliott’s grip.

“No, no, I’m –” Elliott closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his mouth as a hot, sticky burp slipped up his throat. “I’m sorry, Fee, I – I feel sick to my stomach.”

“Oh.” Felix inched back a little more, despite still being held by his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have squeezed you so tightly, if I’d known –”

“I know.” Elliott swallowed against another wave of nausea. “It’s not your fault, gorgeous. I wanted you to squeeze me, remember?”

As he tilted his head, one side of Felix’s mouth twisted up into a sympathetic smile. “Do we need to move you closer to the sink?”

Although he wasn’t too certain himself, Elliott shook his head. The motion made the inside of his skull swirl, but the feeling in his stomach felt more like a low burning than an immediate wave ready to break for his mouth.

“Let’s go to the sofa, then, darling,” Felix suggested. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Elliott nodded obediently and let Felix take his hand, even though his palm had gathered a thick sheen of lukewarm sweat, both from the fever and from being wrapped in the less-than-breathable dressing gown fabric.

They usually wouldn’t get to sprawl across the sofa in the main lounge without Nancy yelling at them, so just being able to lower himself onto his back and stretch his legs across it felt like luxury. Elliott’s muscles sighed, as though they’d been upset with him all along, for moving from the bed in the first place.

Felix put a hand on the back of the sofa and leaned slightly over to kiss Elliott on the forehead. 

Felix’s eyes practically changed colour when he smiled, like there were a hundred tiny golden fireworks going off in each one. Elliott knew this wasn’t strictly true, or even possible - eyes didn’t change colour based on simple emotions but rather primal instincts - but he liked to imagine it anyway. Felix was small, and his little mint-coloured pigtails made him look so sweet, but Lord, he was majestic.

Elliott felt smaller than him now, felt shielded by his closeness.

Unfortunately, he also felt yesterday’s blood feast stirring around in his belly again, so he had to jab Felix away from him. His brain felt like it was burning with anger that he couldn’t seem to voice, just from imagining the sensation of being touched. It made him squirm on the sofa until he could assure himself that Felix knew to give him space, and wouldn’t try anything unless he asked.

And Lord, was it hard not to ask for another hug. It was nearly impossible to simply watch Felix slink back, grabbing a cushion from the reading chair so that he could set himself up on the floor next to the sofa.

“You want me to get you some ice or something? Try to bring down your fever a tad?”

Elliott rested a hand over his ribs, feeling the acid and blood bubbling in his belly, and shook his head. “Ryan says it’s better to let it run its course, unless I’m on the verge of passing out.”

“I just wish I could do something to help.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Felix rested his chin in his hands. His eyes seemed to have dulled slightly. “What are you thinking of right now, darling?”

Elliott kept his lips closed as he groaned, preparing to say something.

“No sugar coating,” Felix added.

“I was thinking how – how my body is more in control than I am,” Elliott heard himself say. “Like I - I don’t even get a say anymore.”

Felix nodded a little mechanically; he’d heard all of this before – albeit paraphrased, and in a not-so-calm manner. Elliott’s ears pricked and picked up a slight hitch in his boyfriend’s breathing as he sucked in a sob.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled. “I just don’t – I don’t know how I’m still going to be me when this is all finished.”

“You –” Felix nodded with a little more purpose this time, smiling despite the glistening in his eyes. He was trying hard to keep himself together, for Elliott’s sake. “You know I’ll still wanna keep you, right? No matter what happens?”

“I know, boo.”

“And who knows?” Felix added. “When you’re finished transforming, maybe you’ll be reborn as someone with fashion sense from the century you’re actually living in.”

All Elliott could do was grin to himself as a weak roll of laughter took hold of his achy shoulders and back. 

Well… maybe the roll went a little deeper than his shoulders, and maybe the burning was actually –

Felix yelped in surprise as Elliott suddenly sat upright, curling his legs up towards his chest. He retched dark brown, sticky vomit down the front of his dressing gown, accompanied by a wet cough.

“Oh, gosh!” Felix squealed, leaping to his feet. “I didn’t know you were about to - the white sofa – gosh, are you okay? Are you – did you get any on the cushions? Never mind, are you okay? Oh, no, Elli, they’re going to kill us –”

Elliott gulped around another peal of laughter, clapping one hand to his mouth and flapping the other in Felix’s direction. The sudden onslaught of nausea gripped tightly at his stomach and throat, but Felix being Felix was enough to distract him from the pain.

“Bucket? Bucket, I should get you a bucket,” Felix gasped, trotting back towards the kitchen and almost tripping over the cushion he’d placed on the floor himself.

Elliott coughed as he sat forward, eyes watering from the nauseous burps that he couldn’t keep down anymore. The laughter had him trembling all over, had his abdominal muscles clenching around his already churning stomach. He extended a hand as soon as he saw Felix bounding back, grabbing the bucket from his hand and letting a string of thick liquid fall from his lips.

He belched deeply over the bucket before bringing up another wave of sick. When he felt his lips pull back, he was no longer sure if he was grinning or just grimacing at this point. His jaw felt as heavy as it did when he was unbearably bloodthirsty, which felt like an impossible similarity, seeing as his stomach was begging to empty itself rather than be filled.

He glanced up, sensing Felix hovering close-by, craning his neck and wringing his hands.

“S-sofa’s fine, Fee,” Elliott coughed out.

“That so? I see – alright.” Felix backed off a little, still fidgeting with his hands purely because he didn’t know what he should be doing. “Shall – shall I get you some clean pyjamas or something, darling? Why – Elli, why the heck are you laughing?”

“It’s n-nothing,” Elliott whispered weakly, the nausea attempting and failing to deflate him again. 

He glanced up at Felix’s soft, yellow eyes and swallowed hard despite the scratchy ache in his throat. There was an idea forming in his mind as he watched Felix fret about him, one that he realised might have been there for a while now. 

“I’d like...” Elliott’s voice was deep and scratchy from the vomiting he’d already done, and the vomiting that was still to come. “I’d like to keep you forever, if I can. Would that be okay?”

“Sure,” Felix replied. He smiled a little stiffly, clearly still bewildered at the level of giddiness that Elliott seemed to have reached. “That would – that would be nice, darling.”

[themangledsans0508]

Is this Okay?

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline learned a lesson from her mother, the Vampire King, and Simon. Everything Stays. No matter what you try to do to change it.

Words: 1713, Oneshot

Warnings: None

Characters: Marceline Abadeer, Bonnibel Bubblegum, Peppermint Butler

Ships: Bubbline

Additional Tags: fluff, mild hurt/comfort

It had been two weeks since vampires returned to Ooo and Marceline had slain them all again, in the process getting turned again. She thought non-stop about the Vampire King’s words, how their cycle would continue forever if she didn’t try to change their outcomes.

But she did try, and nothing changed. She was still a vampire.

In all honesty, she didn’t care anymore. She forgot how nice it was to be mortal, but how horrible it was at the same time. The cons outweighed the pros, and she was resigned to accept it. She’d live forever, watch all the people she loved die, except for two.

Simon and Bonnibel.

Simon, she had mixed feelings about, because while he was immortal, he wasn’t himself. One day, she’d save him. Saving him might make him mortal, and then she’d lose him.

Against her better judgement, she reached for her phone. She tapped before she could change her mind and let the fish circle her ear. It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Bonnie,” Marceline said quietly.

“Marcy, what are you doing still up? It’s almost one in the afternoon,” Bonnie asked. Marceline felt under the spotlight, but there was no backing down now. She had called and now she had to ask.

“I haven’t slept. In a few days really. Do you remember a few weeks ago when you said that if I wanted, I could move into the castle?”

“Yeah?” Bonnie’s voice sounded hopeful, and Marceline felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, this is misleading. I wanted to ask if I could drop by sometimes. I like having my own space, but like I also want to be,” she hesitated and cautiously continued “I want to be living with my girlfriend. Sometimes, but just keep my house. In case or whatever.” Marceline heard the clicking of something being put down and the shifting of clothes and she figured she had called while Bonnie was doing an experiment.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind. Honestly, I miss you. Miss how we used to be. Like, domestically. Not everything else. That was bad. You’re welcome over whenever you want, I don’t know if you want your own room or-”

“Bon, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to share your room,” Marceline requested. She braced herself for dismissal or decline but she was met with silence.

“Colour stays in my clothes,” Bonnie ordered. Marceline’s ears perked up and she practically jumped off her bed. “No going in the lab while I’m experimenting, something could go wrong and someone could get hurt. It’s a safety issue, not because I don’t want you there. Unless you’re careful, then you can hang out there.”

“Those are some pretty easy rules to follow,” Marceline stated.

“They’re supposed to be, I’m not going to strap you down and tell you that you can’t do this or that.”

“Are you doing anything important right now?”

“Besides cleaning the last remaining remnants of the King of Ooo ruining my lab? No.”

“So I could come over right now?”

“Yes, except it's daylight.”

“I have an umbrella.” She heard Bonnie laugh on the other end.

“You are so stubborn. Be careful, okay? I don’t need a crisp staining my hallways.”

“Pff, it’ll be fine. See you in a bit, Peebles.”

Marceline may have been too hasty, and in her rush accidentally stuck her arm out of the shade and got burned, but that was fine because of her healing powers. She flashed Finn and Jake a wave when she came across them to raised eyebrows in the Candy Kingdom. She slipped into the castle without the Banana Guards noticing due to their own lack of attention and closed her umbrella, leaning against it.

An angry mint stalked towards her and pointed a gloved hand at her.

“If you are here to be turned mortal again, you’ll have to wait! The Princess has not even begun rebuilding the machine, and I hope you have prepared properly for the potential consequences of your actions after you were poisoned and almost perished! May I also request you refrain from placing the Princess in harm’s way?”

“Move over, candy man.” Marceline nudged him out of the way with the tip of her umbrella. “I’m a vampire for good. If I catch you trying to stake me I’ll drain all the red from your body. Where’s Bonnie?” Peppermint Butler huffed and adjusted his suit.

“She’s organising her lab. If you do her any harm I will make sure your fate is worse than death.” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Heard that before, Minty.” She walked across the floor, her heels clicking against the solid candy floor. She could hear Peppermint Butler mumbling things under his breath but she elected to leave well enough alone. She navigated by memory to the lower halls, pausing at the lab doors. She hesitated before knocking.

“Come in!” Marceline stepped through the doorway and quickly reacted when she saw a glass beaker falling. She dived down and caught it, rubbing her neck sheepishly when she handed it back.

“You gotta be careful Bonnie, that could’ve shattered.” Bonnie carefully put the contents of her arms into the sink and dusted her hands together, leaning against the counter.

“I have plenty more, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world,” Bonnie said calmly. Her body language was a different story, her hands fidgeted and her eyes looked everywhere but Marceline’s. She tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. “How long do you think you’ll be staying?”

“Want me gone already?” Marceline joked. Bonnie frowned.

“No, I’d love to have you here full-time, I was just curious how much time I’ll have with you before you go back to your house.”

“I don’t know, I just want to be here with you for a while. Even if Mints wants me gone.”

“Peps just doesn’t trust you, he’s skeptical of everyone,” Bonnie explained.

“I’ve literally been around you longer than he’s been alive, if I was going to do anything I would’ve done it seven centuries ago,” Marceline deadpanned. Bonnie pushed herself away from the counter.

“I know you would’ve and I trust you completely.” She placed a tender hand on Marceline’s cheek. “I’d trust you with my life.”

“Same. And I have multiple times. But if the little dude comes for me I will shatter him into a million pieces and throw him out the window.”

“Please do be careful with him, it’s such a pain to have to put him back together piece by piece,” Marceline grumbled something under her breath and reluctantly nodded in agreement.

~

She was fidgeting.

That in and of itself wasn’t usual, Marceline was typically always moving in one way or another. This time, however, she was nervous.

Not because she was sleeping next to Bonnibel, on the contrary sleeping beside her was actually comforting. It was the fact that she had a question to ask that she wasn’t sure she had her own answer to.

“Bonnie?” she spoke quietly in case her partner was asleep. She felt shifting beside her and didn’t have to turn to know Bonnie was looking at her.

“Yeah?” She took a few deep breaths and felt a warm hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Bonnie, are you okay with me being a vampire?” The words hung in the air for a time, and Marceline could tell Bonnie was choosing her words carefully before saying them. The fingers on her shoulder tightened its grip.

“Marcy, look at me.” She did, her eyes meeting Bonnibel’s. Her face was unreadable, which was normal but did little to put Marceline at ease. She took Marceline’s hand and held it in between them. “When I first met you, you were a vampire. It didn’t bother me back then, why would it bother me now?”

“I don’t know, I just,” she sighed, leaning back slightly, “I’m a freak. I have to drink the colour red, I can’t go outside during the day, I can’t eat garlic, your butler was so worried I could go crazy he’s been getting things to stake me with! My heart doesn’t beat unless I make it, I’m basically permanently cold, I don’t need to breathe ever. I committed genocide on my entire species except for one other vampire!” She broke eye contact before whispering, “I’m a freak. You’re a princess. At least when I was human, I was able to be normal. Like we could be a normal couple.”

“Marceline, I’ve always loved you for you. I don’t care if my sleep schedule gets thrown off, I don’t care if my entire kingdom goes pale. We haven’t used garlic here in centuries I can barely remember what it tastes like. And us being a normal couple?” she laughed and smiled, “I’m a sentient piece of gum that rules a kingdom she made from scratch that is also a lesbian. You’re a half-demon half-vampire who’s a rockstar and a queen and also bisexual. The word ‘normal’ and ‘us’ go together like two electrons.” Her smile faltered.

“If I’m honest, I didn’t want you to turn human again. For entirely selfish reasons. I didn’t want to lose you one day. But that was unfair to you, and it’s your life. I hate to say it but I was happy when you got turned back. It saved me a lot of work. I was going to try and find some way to prevent ageing, just because of my own fears.”

“That kind of defeats the point of being mortal,” Marceline pointed out.

“I know. That’s why I said it was selfish. For my own reasons I never wanted you to die. Either way, you would be ageless either naturally or by my doing, so in the end, I didn’t mind. Vampire or human, you’re still Marceline. That’s all I care about.” Marceline smiled at her.

“Bonnibel Bubblegum showing emotions?” She leaned forward and pecked her lips.

“Don’t make me regret it.” She started to turn away before pausing, looking back at Marceline with a sly grin. “Actually, there’s one thing that being a vampire has over being a human?”

“What?”

“It’s kind of hot.” Even dead, some hue came to Marceline’s cheeks as she playfully shoved Bonnibel off the bed.

[jokertrap-ran]

[Drama CD]  Ikemen Vampire: Temptation in the Dark, Side: Leonardo da Vinci

Company: Cybird CV: Tsuda Kenjiro ( 津田 健次郎 )

*Commissioned by @shrimpalompa​, Thank you! *Spoiler free: Translations under cut

Commissions are OPEN!!

Track 2:

Yes, yes. Good morning. Your fringe’s  sticking up, little one. Yeah, wait, don’t try to hide your face with the covers. No, don’t try to hide, no running; and stop trying to wiggle your way out either. Come on now, look back over here. Don’t worry, you’re cute no matter what happens, always. How strange. Your hair’s so mussed up, but yet you’re still adorable in my eyes. You haven’t casted some sort of strange spell on me, have you?

Ow, ow, ow! Stop hitting me with all your might. It’s only a joke, sorry. I’m only simply stating a fact when I say that you’re cute and...well, I suppose that’s also proof of how I’ve completely fallen for you.

I’m unfair, you say? That, I already know. I’m way more mature than you, not to mention older by a couple thousand years. 

Hm? What’s the matter?

Have you finally decided to get out of bed? Wait a minute. Stay here for a little while longer. For at least 3 minutes more? You smell something sweet? Hm, I suppose that’s the remnants of the cigarettes. Your hair smells equally delectable all the time as well. This might be weird coming from me, considering how we’re technically using the same shampoo and all...But I guess it’s easier to the scent of the woman I love more acutely than anything else? You’re the only one with such a sweet-smelling scent. Always.

Haa...I’ve got to let you go soon. It’s a brilliant thing to be watching you up and about, but I’ve still got to let go eventually. Hm? Oh. There’s a night banquet going on today, remember? Don’t fret, I remember it. Awfully so, in fact. There’s no way I’d ever forget about the day you’ve been looking forward to all so badly. I’ll come get you at night but we’ll both have to continuously give our best at our respective works till then. See you then. It’ll be farewell for the time being, little one. Do your best today as well. Heh, that’s it.

Track 3:

Little one? Come on in. Good work today. I’m here to escort you just as I promised.

No...You’re just so enthralling that I think I fell head over heels for you yet again. Can I get a closer look at you? Hmm, yup. You’re beautiful. I always think that you’re cute, but seeing you like this...I can’t think of anything else to describe you other than simply mesmerising. I’m stumped. I just went off and did something that would trouble you.

Heh. I see that you feel the same way as well, partner in crime. Look, you’ve turned all red. So you are troubled indeed. We’ll both be late if we proceed further though. Well, it’s better to postpone the enjoyment till later when I can take all the time I want. Let’s foray into the streets at night then.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ༻ ♡ ༺ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Still, it’s rather lively considering the place it;s situated in. Haha! You’re really expressive, huh. Everything shows on your face; about how fun it is here that you just can’t help yourself. I’m glad you’re here. 

Oh, the song’s changing. Is it time for the dance now? Hm, may I have your hand then? Hey, hey...What are you snickering to yourself about? I’m well aware that this type of princely-attitude doesn’t fit me at all. And honestly, I’m no good with places that are as dazzling as this is either. And adding insult to injury is that I’m absolutely no good at dancing either. In fact, it’s one of the things that I’m absolutely useless at.

Really, do you have to be laughing so much at my expense? Through, what I think about any of this doesn’t matter in the end. I’m saying that I don’t care how lame I look doing all these, little one. If it makes you laugh tonight, I don’t mind it. I don’t mind doing anything. So, here. Take my hand?

Alright. Come on here then.

Heh. It’s better now compared to the first time I’ve ever danced with you, right? Hey. I actually really love the smile you have on your face when you’re having fun and enjoying yourself. All of your expressions are cute to me, but I think your smiling face’s the best out of of them all.

If it’s for your smile...I’m willing to do anything so long as it puts that smile on your face. From now on and forever. So laugh for my sake? Yeah, that’s a nice smile you have on. It really is. Now, how about we dance all night till you actually start to hate it? 

Track 4:

It’s really peaceful and calm out here. Hm? What’s wrong for your face to be so flushed? People are staring at us both? Are you bothered by it? Did we do something weird to garner their eyes on us? You...You don’t really think that we were creating such a disruption that they’d do that, do you? Hah, I knew it. I suppose I understand that feeling as well, weird part of you it might be, but I share the same sentiments as well. Listen here, little one. They aren’t staring at us because we did something odd. They’re all enthralled by your beauty, by your smile. Their eyes stray to you even if they didn’t have such intentions because you are all too dazzling upon the dance floor. I’m not lying and it isn’t a joke either. I’m just stating the facts and I suppose you’re the only one who isn't aware of it. Well, I can’t say I hate that air-headedness of yours. That just made the fact that you’re mine even clearer now. Idiot girl, don’t make me spell every word out for you and everyone out there. Even I, for as long as I have lived. Am unable to get rid of this nagging feeling called jealousy. What do you know of man? Besides, we only get worse whenever something happens to the one we love. In other words, let me steal you away.

Your ears have turned red. This one here too. No, it’s redder, actually. Haha, your reactions really do stir me up. Turn over here. I’d love to tell you that you can expect more to come but it’ll be bad if we continued anything out here. And I don’t wish to let others witness this cute face of yours. Allow me to continue once we get back to the manor, yes?

Track 5:

Now then...Hey, hey, what’s up with that face you’re pulling? You’re not aware of it? Then let me tell you exactly what kind of expression you’re showing. It’s one that tells me that you want to do things. Much, much more. Am I mistaken? Whoa- It’s kind of stifling when you hug me that tightly, you know… Heh. You’re so cute even when you’re like this. Sometimes I worry what I’m to do in the future if this is how cute you’re going to be all the time. But I suppose it’s not a problem at all so long as I keep holding onto you like this. Right?

Heh. Your neck’s gonna fall off if you keep nodding so vigorously. Besides, I can’t do this either. Looking at your pale white neck...I can’t help but to feel things that I shouldn’t really be feeling.

It makes me want to bite into that neck of yours. It makes me want to bite into it and steal everything from your very existence. However, I can’t do that. I won’t make you into a vampire like I am. You already know that without me telling you? You’re really the oddball, aren’t you? You’re probably the only one who’d stick around with someone as troublesome as me and remain smiling, happy to be by my side. Have I given up on you? No...I fell for you again. You’ve turned red again, how cute. Thanks to that, I think I don’t want to let go of you anymore. Actually, I never intended to do so to begin with. Hey, little one? How about we spend the night together today?

Track 6:

What? You’re awake? Hmm? Ahh, I’ve been awake. I lost my sleepiness while watching you sleep. Is the cigarette smoke reaching your side? That’s good then. What was I thinking about, you ask?

I was just reminiscing about the time when I first met you. My first impression of you was that you were adorable. But, I never thought that something like this, something like us right now would ever happen back then. I’m a timeless vampire and you’re just a human, remember? We’re two existences as different as heaven and earth and I honestly never thought that love between the two would even be possible. Because I knew that eventually your time would run out and that you’d never be able to live up to where I am. Fleeting. I thought that it was bad, that it was the worst thing one could do, for an immoral to be stealing the time of someone who had a limited time in this world. That’s precisely why I tried not to fall for you, but...Strange, isn’t it? You eventually still managed to sneak your way into my heart and I didn’t want to let go of you anymore. It’s the same even now. Little one, I can’t imagine a future without you any more. A life without you would only be boring, sad and lonely. So...please continue being a part of my life from now on. And beside me...I’d like for you to stay beside me while you still live.

Hey now, why are you crying? Heh. You’re so good at getting me to extinguish my cigarettes that even I’m appalled. There you go. Here, I’ll give you a hug, so calm down. You know, I actually love you much more than you’re aware of. What? It’s not unnecessary at all now, is it? Okay, alright, you’re really...just cry your heart out. It’s still a long time till the night breaks so I’ll just hold you till the time comes.

Track 7:

Both of us and this relationship we’re in. One between a Vampire, eternal, and a human. Living together side by side, this sadness and loneliness that I feel...It might not be the same if we were both humans, for our times would be the same. This love of ours would definitely not be one befitting of her. It wasn’t what she deserved...Or so I thought. And that’s why I tried to stay my hand; I tried to stay away. Your love wasn’t fated to be one that ended in tears. I wished that you’d have one, one that made you happy. Short, fleeting, just as you are. I remember telling you that once, but you insisted. You still insisted that it was a wall between us that you didn’t care about. And before I realised, we were both on the same path. One that we shared, walking in tandem. I was caught off-guard, but it seems like I’ve fallen head-first into this love that defies all logic. 

With our differences, there’s no saying that we’ll have a future together for all of eternity. I don’t even know if this love of ours will be forgiven. But I do love how pure it is. Something that I wish will continue and stay on. That’s why I swore to myself, I made a vow, somewhere in my heart. It was something that she didn’t know of. I swore that I’d love her and only her, for however fleeting her life was to be in this realm. If...Even if the time comes where she’d disappear and fade away in front of my eyes, I’ll grab onto the shadow she left behind. I’ll take this love, relish in it...and live out the rest of my eternity. Innocent, yet forbidden. This love of ours that defies even what the gods have decreed. I’m the only one who can protect this. However, I’ve only one wish. Gods are fickle things. They seem to have a penchant for recalling those pretty and pure back up under their wing. That’s something I’d rather not happen. This little one...I wish for her to let her live a little longer. I can always tell her this anytime, sometime in the future. Even if she cries, I’ll hold onto this love and think of it as my fate. I’ll accept this fate of mine.

I won’t be happy if she’s gone. This happiness cannot be attained one-sidedly. And while waiting for that fateful time to come, I’ll live alongside you. Minute by minute, lovingly.

[backandimbamon]

part III

a/n: ive been sitting on this chapter for weeks. being a perfectionist...will do things to you. enjoy and please leave a reply!

Perhaps something happened on the other side between Damon and Bonnie.

Perhaps something happened between them that shattered the defenses, the bickering, the banter, the tension... maybe it was all too much to handle and one day they decided to resolve it in a new way that was less stressful and more natural.

What if they finally focused their vision on the situation and realized it was demented, downright unfair, to trap a handsome sex pot of a vampire and a stunning little witch with magically delicious blood together forever, the last two on earth, and swear them to a platonic relationship?

A kiss? Or sex? Caroline is full Sherlock Holmes, investigator style because there is no possible way that the dynamic between Bonnie and Damon remained the same after such a...dynamic...event occurred to both of them simultaneously. She has a hunch.

But a kiss? Sex? She knows she’s jumping the gun. As much as she can project, the denial between them both would prevent such forward actions. But-

It makes sense, she thinks, perfect sense. If they decided to break that forbidden rule, are they truly to blame? She’s sure she isn’t the only one who could physically see the sexual tension brewing between the vampire and the witch since their first formal introduction. Throughout the years, it’s only increased in intensity and anyone with decent deductive reasoning skills could predict that maybe, just maybe, there was a hiccup in those roles they played so dutifully. They “hated” each other. Sure.

Being the last two on a repeating day, desperation settling, solitude dancing, they’re under the radar... anything could happen. As if on queue, her mind begins to sift through the possibilities again. She always had a knack for probability.

A bite... now that is highly likely.

Caroline can imagine Bonnie being her normal selfless, sacrificial self, asking Damon if he’s okay- it seems like he’s tired or beat since he’s been slack on their banter, his comebacks lackluster and falling flat. He lies because lying is as effortless as breathing to Damon and he politely but solidly asks Bonnie not to worry about him, that he just misses home so his mood is sour.

He tries to maintain his normal devil-may-care, overly nonchalant, effortlessly sexy character with the huge ego but it’s not quite the same. He’s not as clever and though he’s close, he’s not close enough.

She observes this.

Bonnie picks at him, rapid question-asking all while being inquisitive and selfless and caring and healing, she tells him she knows him better than he knows himself. She says she can feel when he lies.

Damon probably experiences a foreign emotion at this point, wondering why his undead heart seems as though it’s hammering, beatboxing against his bones, threatening to reveal what he wants to hide so bad.

He’s hungry.

And he’s never felt a hunger quite like this. He’s emptied every single blood bag in the freezer, still there’s this nagging sensation that no matter how much blood he consumes, even if he decides to bathe in it, if it’s not what he really wants to devour, he will never be satisfied. It’s like eating fast food when craving gourmet, that craving never ceases, it’s just mitigated for a moment with a bottom-of-the-barrel substitute. The next time the hunger returns, it leaves its victim in gut-splitting agony so much so that it’s exhausting. The hunger is kicking his ass to force him to get what he’s denying himself. Damon is the victim. For once, he is the victim here.

Bonnie being intelligent and knowing Damon, she can guess what his struggles consist of. It takes her a week to consider it. He never says it explicitly, that he wants to bite her, but the shadow of veins under his eyes says enough. Damon Salvatore is a predator. It is unnatural for him not to hunt prey for an indefinite amount of time. She is all he has.

She thinks hard on this, questioning if her empathy has reached a new level of desperation. She asks herself what is her infatuation with being needed. She asks herself why she would rip herself apart to heal others. Why she feels this undying, naked, indelible need to do for others without doing for herself. She asks herself if the roles were reversed would Damon do the same?

For a week, she watches him get weaker with want, endures his shitty moods and back talk. Not once does he ask or even hint that he’s starving.

It makes Bonnie want to offer herself up on a platter even more, there’s something wrong with her.

So she does it, in the kitchen, cuts a sliver of red at the wrist “by accident” and Damon- he looks bad. He looks blue.

She turns to grab a napkin to dab at the blood but when she turns back around he’s gone. Upstairs, his door slams hard enough that she can hear the wood split.

“Damon!” She calls after him but he doesn’t reply and she doesn’t see him again until the next night because he refuses to step out of his room.

“Stop. We need to talk,” he’s fixing Italian trying to pretend like nothing ever happened twenty-six hours before; apron on, back turned, humming. He’s not okay.

“Then talk, Bon Bon.” he adds some herbs to the white wine sauce, grated cheese beside him, back still turned.

There’s something that’s frightening her about this and it could be herself. He hasn’t even asked yet she wants this for him so bad.

“Damon. I know you’re hungry.”

“Ding, ding. I’m making dinner right now, Bon.” His voice is rough like it’s warning her not to push this any further. The pots and pans clatter a little louder in his palms. Red tomatoes a stark contrast against the pale noodles.

“I cut myself on purpose last night.”

This grabs his attention. Swiftly, he drops everything, turns around and walks into Bonnie, forcing her to walk backwards until the cabinets halt her with a soft thud. His hands are at her shoulders with a dizzying shake as he says “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Damon Salvatore, always so invasive, too animated, with a face that’s intimidatingly perfect.

It’s unsettling and downright unfair for him to possess such appeal; even angry and a threat to her life span, any woman would want him. Hell, Any man would want him. She wishes she could steal whatever that quality is. She wants that for herself.

It’s almost comical that after all these years of his presence, he can still startle her with his beauty. With his mouth shut, he’s so unassuming and pretty. In all seriousness, he looks like an angel. The slanted smirk and jaded attitude is the only hint that maybe this book doesn’t match the cover.

He gives her another shake as if the answer will tumble out of her, it makes her think of the time they hated each other. Way back when.

But now, this is too close for comfort. His eyes are an angry blue and she’s swimming laps, her words get caught in her throat before she can reply.

Weakly she says, “Just stop fighting it, okay? I’ve made up my mind and I trust you.”

“You trust me? You trust me, Bon? I don’t even trust me! What’s the matter with you?”

Honesty is not suitable. She can’t say that it’s lips anywhere on her body that she needs even if it’s at her wrist. That her withdrawal has her fingers exhausted and her body aching because she needs some sort of physical connection outside of herself. Bonnie wants Damon to drink her like wine so she can remember what it feels like to be desired and she can see it, the desire she needs, veiled and trapped behind the denial she knows too well. She wants to open that door to see if he needs her just as bad as she thinks he does. She wants to set it on fire.

“Damon, please.”

When she tilts her head and locks her green eyes with his, he sees the deprivation. Like she’s starving too. Like it pains her to not have his teeth in her neck. The look on her face reveals everything she cannot say. Damon shudders.

He doesn’t mean to trail his nose up the slope of her neck but he does and his stomach growls so violently that he’s surprised he doesn’t shake. There’s a new scent in the air and it’s Bonnie’s arousal.

He clenches his jaw with a painful force, half expecting it to shatter.

The words are no louder than a whisper when she says, “I’m your friend. Let me do this for you.”

People who are actually friends seldom use the word “friend.” But Damon and Bonnie ware the word out trying to convince one another that it’s all they are, nothing more. They haven’t said the word more than they have in this hell because it’s a reminder when sanity starts to slip. It’s a reminder when they start to wonder what would happen if they weren’t just “friends.”

Best friends.

Bonnie makes it hard for him. She makes everything hard for him and this hell where she’s the only one to exist makes the things he could easily ignore blatantly obvious. The feminine curve of her breast, the spread of her hips, the lovely enigmatic green of her eyes, he’s always thinking of Bonnie. Even asleep, she haunts his dreams with golden brown skin and a crooked smile. The ghost of her fragrance creates a tornado around him in this tiny cramped space called hell, it’s comforting and devastating.

Everytime he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of the fact that everything he wants he takes. Even if he doesn’t want it, he takes it. But with Bonnie, it doesn’t quite work out that way. There’s rules with Bonnie. His charisma is useless to her because that’s his best friend. She’s immune to him and maybe he’s not okay with that.

Poor Damon, he could weep now because Bonnie was never supposed to be the one to snap first. He was supposed to be the unhinged vampire with bountiful problems, the rebel and she was supposed to be the very stable, very perfect witch but she’s breaking. He’s her lesser and she’s the one who’s breaking. This has to be a cruel dream where if he hits himself hard enough, he’ll wake up.

His fangs slip out by accident, they feel the presence of Bonnie’s blood just humming with delicacy and complexity under her skin. She’s waiting to be tasted, she takes her hand and guides his mouth to her neck so his tooth pricks her skin. A bead of red shoots up but his tongue is quick to swipe that first drop almost sampling to make sure Bonnie is serious. She says something under her breath but the bloodlust has the rest of his senses useless. He doesn’t hear her.

Damon gnashes his teeth into her delicate skin, his expertise never allowing one ribbon of blood to trail away because he laps it up so greedily, so manically that he almost chokes. It feels like heaven busted and started showering its essence into his open mouth. He can’t take the time to breath or else he’ll rob himself of perfection for a few seconds too long. The life surges back into his body.

A montage of honey, patchouli, iron, lilac, roses, metal, bergamot, smoke, magic, fire, fear all on his tastebuds at once. In the distance, desire begins to bloom.

Then there’s a click and he starts to feel it.

Bonnie’s arousal is creeping up on him slowly like a distant claw of nails down his spine, the ghost of a sopping mouth around the head of his cock. He emits a wet groan then takes another tactless slurp and can practically feel Bonnie’s walls gripping against his shaft- it frightens him how bad he wants it. It scares him how he can feel the phantom of her nipples through his apron and t-shirt. He’s sweating when his pants start to bunch at the center. She’s breathing erratically, wraps her legs around his waist so she feels that lovely poke between her legs and it terrifies him.

Never has he untangled the web of feelings he associated with the complicatedly simple Bonnie Shealia Bennett. However, that web has been slowly unraveling since their first day here. Those feelings he never was honest with himself to admit are dousing him right now, of his own volition. He’s frightened out of his mind with the realization that he’s always wanted to take his best friend, little Judgey, Bon Bon, Elena’s BFF, and sex her into a stupor until the only word in her vocabulary is his name.

Damon Salvatore wants to fuck Bonnie Bennett so deeply that they must excavate his dick from her slot to retrieve it.

Oh God.

He can see himself, inside of her, inside of his best friend as she begs him to go faster and harder but he won’t listen. He never listens and it’s driving her up the fucking wall as her pleas to let her cum all over him fumbles his rhythm. Damon has never been more afraid of himself. Damon has never been more oblivious of a desire that waited for a moment like this since their first encounter. He feels baited.

Fear of this discovery, this dormant longing, brings him back to earth and violently disconnects him from the bloodlust, he removes his fangs too quickly, his head spinning with filthy thoughts of his best friend. The moan that tumbles past his lips is dire, it rips through his throat and says she has to fuck him or he will simply die.

Somewhere an invisible candle burns in the air labeled “Bonnie’s Lust.” It’s so strong Damon can taste it.

They look at each other differently. They are strangers. She’s painted in red, his mouth is a mess, the erection in his pants is hard enough to unearth his grave and bury himself alive. He offers his bleeding wrist up to her and tries not to cum when her mouth latches on.

When she’s done, he decides he won’t distract himself with the gorgeous sight of a panting Bonnie, looking as if she’s been thoroughly fornicated with her eyes all glossy like that.

Damon is dizzy, tipsy from blood, pleasure and a bombardment of epiphanies.

He turns around too sharply on his heel and passes out, just like that. A lifeless heap of beauty on the kitchen floor.

Bonnie’s definitely scared of whatever took over them as she crouches next to him and fans his face. Her mind is still far from her after such a disastrous high. Her heartbeat sounds like the pounding of an incessant guest.

Knock, knock.

In that moment, Deja-vu gives her a kiss. Bonnie’s mind floats back to Elena’s lapis prom dress with the silver clasps in the back and how she always thought Damon was perfect for Elena like that tailored dress. The way it hugged her and snapped in place. The way it clicked.

Bonnie remembers trying that dress on first and falling in love. She loved that feeling, how it felt like it was made for her and only her but Elena insisted. Not even Caroline knew. She gave the dress up for her, anything for her best friend. It was just a pretentious mélange of fabric and thread. A lifeless heap of beauty on the fitting room floor.

When he awakens, they pretend as if nothing happened and Damon wonders if he dreamt that but the little wounds on her neck mock his question. Desire still sleeps between them, dependent on that next slip up to pounce. But it never gets the chance.

Damon relives that moment when he meets himself in the mirror and the hint of teeth marks is on his neck from Bonnie’s “tipsy” courage.

“Once bitten, twice shy,” he says to himself and ironically being a century-old vampire he never understood the saying. He lets the little phrase stagnate the air because he doesn’t want to concern himself with figuring out why Bonnie’s teeth marks aren’t disappearing with his rapid healing ability.

Anyways, it’s kind of cute.

He sends her a picture message with a text to follow:

Twice bitten, once dead.

[kibybun]

🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🎉THIS IS FOR MY BEST FRIEND!!! I HOPE YOU'RE BIRTHDAY IS AMAZING AND EVERYTHING GOES YOU'RE WAY!!💜💜💜💜

Yandere Vampire Shinsou and Jirou x reader!

Tw: Yandere

Happy birthday!!!

💉You shake the nerves from your body as you walk to school. Today was your first day as a second year at U.A.

💉Part of the reason you were so nervous was because you missed the first year, leaving you little to no opportunity of squeezing into someone's friend group.

💉But you trudged on, arriving at the designated classroom and pushing out the door. Easy to say you were shocked to see people fighting.

💉You sneak against the wall to avoid the loud exploding man and the one with the engines in his legs only to bump into someone else.

💉You profusely apologize, only stopping to blush as they say it was fine in a deep and sleepy voice. Who knew the tired look was so dang cute?

💉It was odd though. As he talked about how annoying his classmates are you couldn't help but notice how dark his eyes were, how pale he was, and how his eyes stared at your neck.

💉You were knocked out of your trance as a girl jumps into your view, curious as to who you might me. She had the same ethereal glow to her eyes and skin yet she had more of a punk aesthetic, plus her was looked like it was actually brushed.

💉She asks your name then introduces herself and her purple haired friend.

💉They pull you with them to their seats, setting you in the middle, somewhat excited as they distract you from the teacher.

💉It was odd how it was so cold with them so close, but you liked the cold. Another thibg that bothered you was how it was oddly dark in your little corner with your new friends. You'd think the classroom would be better lit but that wasn't your job.

💉For the rest of the day they tug you along, excited to show you all their dark and secret hiding spaces within the school.

💉The only issue you had with this was lunch. They dragged you into a closet, happily trying to share their raw meats for lunch. You didn't mind the taste of blood just it freaked you out how their eyes seemingly glowed as blood dripped down their forearms and got smeared onto your face.

💉It was probably just a special diet they were excited to share with you. It wasn't weird.

💉The end of the day comes and Jirou whines, claiming she had so many more song to share with you. Shinsou just pouts, muttering how the two of you could've napped together under the stairs.

💉You smile and laugh, happy that they already like you so much. But you had to get home, you missed your dark room and bed.

💉You didn't expect Jirou's nails to did into your wrist though, tugging you back with a upset look on her face. It was almost as if she were begging you to stay..... So hope... so mesmerizing.....

💉You feel another cold hand on your arm, gently pulling Jirou off and snapping you back into reality.

💉He gives a lazy smile, saying he'll get that nap soon before walking Jirou off.

💉You stand their for a moment, confused and flustered. The feel of his cold fingers gently holding you was heaven.

💉No.... it was something better, just like how Jirou's touch was so unsettling but exciting.

💉You shake your head clear of these thoughts and dash home, unaware of the glowing eyes that watched outside of your open window.

💉That's how everyday went. You meet up with your pale friends and they drag you into dark and dusty places, cold skin touching yours as their intense stare makes your skin heat up more.

💉Their behavior only changed when the idea of dorms got announced. Apparently they had them last year and were debating on whether or not to bring them back.

💉Jirou was over the moon, talking about how the two of you should share a room and have lste night jam sessions.

💉While Shinsou mumbled about how cute it would be to see you jump as the two of you watch horror moves and cuddle afterwards.

💉It was also funny how they started calling you weird nicknames. Jirou called you "her little Rockstar" while Shinsou called you "kitten".

💉These would've been fine but they seemingly only use them when others are around, making you blush while the other party gets uncomfortable.

💉It only intensified when your room wasn't the closest to their's.

💉On night you happened to stay up a few hours later than everyone. You didn't intend for that to happen but it did and you still needed to shower.

💉You sneak out of your room and into the showers as quietly as possible, unaware someone was sneaking around with you.

💉You take a nice hot shower, a great contrast to your odly cold friends. Once done you walk over to the mirror and wipe away the steam. There wasn't anything behind you, as there should be.

💉You start to dry off only to scream as a cold hand trails up your thigh. A hand swiftly covers your mouth, soft words telling you everything was going to be okay.

💉It was Jiruo.

💉You look over your shoulder, slowly calming down but still startled. How could she be there? She wasn't in the reflection.

💉You try to look back at the mirror but she cups your cheeck, her hot breathe a great contrast on your face. She mumbles something that sounded sweet but your ears couldn't quite pick it up.

💉But her breathe trails down to your neck before stopping. She sticks her hand in your mouth before biting down onto your neck.

💉You draw blood from her hand just like how she does to your neck.

💉You want to desperately pull away and demand she tells you what the hell is happening but somehow its oddly soothing. It might just be the adrenaline that made you pass out but somehow it didn't feel wrong.

💉You wake up in a cold sweat back in your bed, dressed in pajamas with hair barely damp.

💉You take deep breathes and feel around your neck trying to figure out if that was just a dream, unaware of the eyes watching you.

💉You wince as you accidentally press too hard into your wound and jump as you hear a low chuckle.

💉There you see Shinsou with a look of amusement and jealousy.

💉He stalks closer, saying how unfair it was of Jiruo to get the first bite.

💉You were so exhausted to couldn't scoot back, or maybe you didn't want too.

💉His arms make it to either side of you, gently pushing you back and pinning you in place. He only had to tilt his head ever so slightly for you to know what he wanted. Complacent, you tilt you head, exposeing the other side of your neck that was left unharmed.

💉He leaves little kisses on your neck, calling you a good kitten as his hands slowly intertwine with yours.

💉Unlike Jiruo, when he bite you he shoved your head into his shoulder, keading you to bite him back.

💉You slowly relax as you realize the pain wasn't as bad as before, somewhat enjoying the taste of him. But you couldn't enjoy long enough as you fainted. Curse this weak body.

💉The morning light blinds you, forcing you to get up. You couldn't move your neck as you sat up, the pain preventing it.

💉The events of last night burn into your mind, making you realize the situation you were now stuck in.

💉They were vampires.

💉They marked you. You now belong to your undead loves.

💉And honestly, you didn't mind.

💉You just pitty whoever looked at you next. They'd meet a rather gruesome death.

Kiby~💚

[timeforelfnonsense]

Between Heaven & Hell

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M (no spice but its mentioned) 

Ao3

Inaleth Sweet is a D&D oc belonging to one of my dear friends @ladyofthelatke from one of our old games. We were talking about Dafni liking romance novels and realized she'd be a fan of Inaleth. A fun little easter egg! The name of Dafni's book was also brainstormed by our D&D party! I don't know that I love the ending but meh!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series 

Downtime for Dafni had become rare and fleeting in the past few days. Not that she mined being busy! She’d never been much good at sitting still. Her mind moved from thought to thought as quick as a hummingbird’s wing. A life of adventure rather agreed with her breezy disposition, that was a silver lining among the mess at least. But she found herself road-weary and overextended. Perhaps it was the tadpole or the fact she’d been in more battles in two days than she had in the last year. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, a little idle time would be good for her.

She was lounging on her belly in a grassy patch on the river bank, idly flipping through the dog-eared pages of a novel bound in soft pink leather, Between Heaven and Hell scrawled across the cover in faded gold lettering. It was a rather risqué account of an amours elf torn between the affection of her aasimar and a tiefling suiters. The first in a series penned by one Inaleth Sweet of Waterdeep -  A fellow eladrin and personal favorite author of Dafni’s. She’d read it dozens of times but it never failed to enchant and intrigue her. 

She’d always enjoyed reading. It was the only time she could bring herself to be (mostly) still. She could lose herself in the colorful whimsy of her imagination. She’d always been a romantic. Her headful of silly daydreams of love and adventure from a tender age. She had spent days on end in her village imagining what the world might be like beyond the shelter of Peleira and the familiar forests and shores of Faerie-Gwynneth. Books provided her wanderlust an outlet in the years before she crossed into the Material.

A pale hand snatched the book from her hands pulling her back to reality. Astarion glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, raising a singular angled brow. She clumsily fumbled to her knees attempting to reclaim it from him but Astarion simply raised the novel out of her reach. 

He looked almost ethereal, shrouded in the soft, peachy glow of sunset as he flipped through his stolen prize. His loose undershirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel showing off his lanky feline-esque physique. It was completely unfair for him to be that gorgeous! Somehow he managed to mix boyish charm with noble dignity. She imagined Astarion was very much the kind of man humans pictured when they talked about the peerless beauty and grace of the elves. 

“My, my, Daffodil, I never pegged you as a consumer of salacious novels. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He said through a chuckle as he began to thumb through the pages, “You fold the corners of your books? And I thought I was despicable!” 

He might have been from the Material Plane but he had that spark of mirth common to those hailing from her homeland. It was a welcome change of pace. She’d found he could be quite charming (when he wasn’t being surly or aloof). He’d taken to treating her with teasing endearment as of late.  He would refer to her by little diminutives such as darling or dear. That was when he wasn’t calling her by that twee pet name, Daffodil. She knew that the majority of his doting was little more than suave twaddle but she couldn’t help but be won over by him.

 There were things about himself he’d clearly chosen not to disclose. She was never one for secrets but she could hardly begrudge others for having them. Astarion’s omissions were likely connected to whatever had made him so prickly in the first place. She was curious of course but she wasn’t going to press him for anything he was unwilling to give.  Dafni understood relationships much the same way she did gardens. Both required patience and dedication in order for something beautiful to flourish. She earnestly hoped a genuine friendship could blossom between them but that meant allowing him to open up to her in his own time no matter how badly she wanted to bombard him with a-million-and-one questions. 

 “What have I done to deserve this roguery?” 

“Roguery?” Astarion snickered.

“Roguery.” She repeated. “Now find your own way to pass the time and give me mine back!”

Her brows stitched, her lower lip forming that perfect little pout of hers. She was trying very hard to appear cross but her eyes gave her away. They were sparkling with impish delight as she made another valiant effort at retrieving the silly thing. Despite her tilt towards clemency, Dafni was a bit of a puck. 

“This is my way of passing the time. I can only wander among the trees so many times before the novelty wears off. Besides, making you blush is far more entertaining.” 

Dafni snorted a blite smile forming at the corners of her plump lips, “You are incorrigible, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Well, I suppose if you are that bord I could read to you?” She yanked the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest smug and victorious. Reaching out with her free hand to tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “But, I’m skipping all the dirty bits!” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“It’s that or walking around the woods for the hundredth time.” 

“You do raise an excellent point.” He sighed carefully arranging himself on the grass beside her, “Very well, I’ll agree to your stipulations.” 

“Just be glad I’m not going to make you read for one of the characters! And because I’m just so sweet I’ll even start from the beginning for you.” 

He listened intently as Dafni delivered the tale as if she were performing a one-woman play. Her face was adorably expressive as she changed her voice with each new character. Messy curls bouncing with every animated gesture. Occasionally she’d trail off feigning horror at the ‘dirty bits’ as she called them.

 What would lewd words have sounded like in her lilt voice? Part of him wanted to find out right then. That wasn’t the first time such musings had crossed his mind. Dafni had made a few appearances in his private thoughts since their meeting. She had a coy, maidenly allure that conjured up all kinds of tempting images. These were nothing more than flights of fancy but fun nonetheless. Just another benefit of keeping her around.

He found himself lingering around her almost on instinct. The joy that followed her was tangible and warm as the sun on his skin. When she was near his mind felt quieted and the fear that gnawed at him would soften just a tad. He had grown to genuinely enjoy her company. He’d expected her to be dull and overly pious. Instead, he found she was rather amusing, coquettish even. She was witty and observant, always having a playful quip at the ready. The sort of whimsical woman whose effortless charm drew people in. She would have made an excellent vampire if not for her ridiculous soft heart.

Her compulsive need to care for every living thing  with a sob story was somewhat vexing but he could hold his nose and deal with it most days. He’d make a comment here and there but really that was for her own good. She was painfully naïve, always seeing the best in people. It was clear to him Dafni’s life had been gentle. Free of hardships that might have taught her to approach others with such little skepticism. 

A part of him was grateful for her lack of suspension.  He knew gaining the trust of at least one of the members of the party would be crucial if he intended to enjoy the benefits of traveling with a group long term. Her friendship and propensity for peace making provided him with no small measure of safety. Still, that safety was at risk if she continued to offer herself up on a silver platter to every soul with even the smallest tale of woe she came across.

He glanced over at her, a found (begrudging, but found nonetheless), smile on his lips. The last rays of the setting sun casting its light on her lovely cherubic profile. While his motivations for befriending her had been far from altruistic having her near made his life provable better. When they’d first met he’d assumed her kindness would come at a price but she had surprised him, wanting nothing but his company in exchange. Without thinking he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. The freckles, sage skin was unbearably soft  and warm against his cool palm. Her heartbeat quickened bringing his attention to the tantalizing, wildflower sent of her blood.  She leaned in close her eyes fluttering closed- 

“We should head back to the others, it’s getting dark.” Astarion muttered, pulling back from her.

“I- Ha, of course. It’s late…” Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, her eyes darting ever so quickly from his mouth back to his eyes. 

As tempting as she might be he was already in too deep with her. If he kissed her, he’d only want more. Any change to the current dynamic could disrupt the fragile safety he’d acquired. He couldn’t put himself at risk for the temporary happiness she might have brought. Perhaps when things were more settled. When he knew he could afford the risk, he would know the taste of her lips. For now though, he would have to resist. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.37

Shiro arrived mid-afternoon, as Keith drank his forth cup of coffee to settle his nerves. His brother wasn’t great at keeping time, yet Keith wished he could have managed it for a nice change. Lance had been nervy all morning. He’d cleaned through the house, Keith still in bed when Lance came to attack the spare bedroom. His boyfriend casually lifting the bed, balancing it on his shoulder, vacuuming under it and placing the bed down again in a manner of minutes like it was perfectly normally, and he hadn’t been in the bed trying to sleep after tossing and turning all damn night as he wished he had the courage to go crawl into bed with Lance.

Matt and Lance were off to a rough start. Both males had looked each other up and down. Lance calling Matt a “mutt” and Matt calling Lance a “corpse”. Vampires and werewolves occasionally coexisted, but these two seemed natural born enemies. Lance had explained the house rules, Matt had looked bored, even scoffing when Lance asked that he and his girlfriend not have sex all over his house, and if they could wait until everyone was asleep before they did. Keith wasn’t sure this work. He could tell Lance was seething, the wine glass in his hand barely holding together in his kind of boyfriend’s tight grip. Sitting around the kitchen table, Shiro was trying his hardest to defuse the situation before it became one.

Smiling tightly, Shiro hand his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. His brother looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept the whole time he was away. It’d been months since Shiro had looked this bad. Keith wanted to send him to bed, but Shiro was kind of the lynchpin that brought everyone in the group together. If Shiro spoke, then both Lance and Matt would listen. Under the table Keith’s leg was against Lance’s trying to offer silent support as they couldn’t hold hands. Lance would freak if Keith even thought of trying

“Now. I know this is hard for all of us, but I think we should try by reintroducing ourselves. Lance?”

Keith felt it unfair Lance had to go first. Shiro hadn’t even talked to him alone about what had happened while he’d been away. Keith didn’t have anything he could use to make Lance feel better about the current situation. Whatever Shiro said, they’d be finding out together.

“I’m Lance. This is my house. I’ve been dead for the last 36 years. I have a cat called Blue. Pidge and Hunk are my two best human friends”

Lance sounded as if he was standing in front of some anonymous meeting. Detached and nervous. More nervous than detached

“Thanks for that, Lance. Keith?”

Shiro really was insistent they go through the whole charade

“Keith. Shiro’s brother. Apparently recently transferred to Platt. I like coffee”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him. His brother was lucky to get that much from him as it was. Yeah. He hasn’t forgotten being transferred with no say. Curtis didn’t need prompting as he explained

“Curtis. I’ve been cursed for about 4 months now. Ex-hunter who now works for VOLTRON out of Platt. Lance’s personal assistant, and medical advisor”

Again, Shiro raised his eyebrow in silent judgment. If his brother liked to be too busy, he was going to miss everything happening

“We’ll talk about that later. Matt?”

Matt sighed, his expressions were so much like Pidge’s that it was easy to tell the two of them were siblings. Other than the height difference and the long scar on Matt’s cheek, Pidge could have easily passed as him

“Matt. Werewolf”

Shiro closed his eyes, Keith nearly able to hear his brother counting to ten before he opened his eyes again

“Look. Neither of you might be happy initially, but we all need to be on the same team here”

Matt huffed, even his attitude was like Pidge’s

“Fine. Matt. Werewolf. I was accidentally by my girlfriend Rieva. Pidge’s older brother. I’ve got all the attributes including the sense of smell. Lance smells like a virgin in heat”

“It’s better than stinking off wet dog that rolled in something dead”

“Hey...”

Shiro pushed his seat back, rising to his feet as he slammed his hands on the table. Whelp. They’d gone and done it now

“Enough. You’re acting like children. This is Lance’s house, so as long as you’re living here, you’ll show him some respect. Lance, Matt and Rieva are you’re guests. I know you’ve been ill, but you need to keep your ego in check. You both need to keep your egos under control. Keith and I will be moving back to Platt Monday week. The both of your are under our care until you’re proven to be a direct threat to human lives. Especially you, Matt. Lance has a long track record of not harming humans. You, on the other hand, injured two of the Blade’s werewolves. I can’t keep you safe if you slip again”

Matt sighed again. Keith wanted to punch him in the face. Sure, there were a huge array of sounds that the word “sigh” covered, but Matt kept using the same one

“I’m sorry. You’re right. We’re both having issues with our egos”

Keith looked to Lance who gave a tiny nod, Lance didn’t want to be standoffish, especially not to the brother of his best friend

“I’m sorry to. My senses have been pretty whack lately. That’s why Curtis is here, he was sent by Coran to make sure I don’t up and die... again”

“Alright. Good. Now, I was thinking maybe we’d all get along better if we all knew how each other turned”

Lance immediately paled, Keith had seen how hard it was for the vampire to explain the incident

“Lance got attacked by two vampires when he was 8”

Matt let out a whistle

“Damn, man. They got you young. Rieva tried to hide she was a werewolf. We met on the same tour in Greece, then again a few days later in Paris. I took it as a sign, she kept trying to push me away, that was 10 months ago. She accidentally bit me 9 months ago... got this scar at the same time”

Rieva nodded. The woman was pretty in her own way. Tanned enough to for her skin to be a deeper shade of brown than Lance’s with long black hair and green eyes

“I never meant to hurt him. I turned at the full moon and escaped for the night. Matt came after me...”

“And I’m glad I did”

Ugh. So they were one of those disgustingly loved up couples.

Across the table Curtis cleared his throat

“I was cursed. I’ve got half a horn, and half a tail. I was supposed to infiltrate a werewolf pack in Prague, but they seemed to already know I was hunter. They were trying to summon the spirit of a berserker using magic, only I’m not a werewolf and the spell went wrong. I wasn’t permitted to stay in Rome, they didn’t take too kindly to me being cursed. Coran offered to take me, so I’ve been working in Platt looking into the curses effects in his laboratory. So far it seems to affect the things I say. Coran feels they summoned part of a lesser demon instead of a beast spirit, and part of its soul has bonded with my quintessence. Lance has been through a lot, and Coran thought we may be able to help each other. His fae magic had no effect on the curse. Of course, without the original spell working backwards has been hard. And it hasn’t been that great, but I’m happy to be alive. Especially now Shiro’s returned”

It was Keith’s turn to raise an eyebrow at his brother. Curtis had no filter and that sounded suspiciously like his brother had been keeping secrets about his love life. Either that, or Curtis simply meant he was happy to see his friend and hadn’t meant it the way he sounded. Just because he’d snagged himself a boyfriend, didn’t mean everyone was suddenly in love and dating. Shiro was still mourning Adam. They’d intended to marry and everything that came with it. It wasn’t fair... what had happened. Since meeting Lance, Keith had kind of felt like maybe he was better place himself, forced to work through feelings because there wasn’t a whole lot things to do in Garrison. Not that he was going to tell Shiro this. His brother had abandoned him and he figured he could milk that for a little longer.

“That’s rough. Most werewolves I’ve met have been all about the muscles and not the sharpest tools in the shed. They really shouldn’t be messing with that stuff. Not that vampires are any better. Who the fuck takes a human as a pet?”

Curtis nodded at Lance’s words, Matt didn’t look terribly pleased but by now he’d probably had his fair of share of scrapes with werewolves. Shiro simply smiled like he’d solved everything with one conversation. He definitely hadn’t.

“How’s Pidge doing?”

The glass in Lance’s hand finally broke. Lance shoving Keith when Keith automatically went to start picking up the pieces

“Idiot. You can’t touch the blood. I am not having you think I’ve turned you again”

Reprimanded by his boyfriend, Keith crossed his arms. Lance was super protective of Pidge, he’d have had months of Pidge upset because Matt wasn’t messaging her back

“I wasn’t thinking”

“That’s obvious. Don’t touch it while I get a cloth”

Matt watched as Lance cleaned up the mess, placing the glass in the sink to rinse the blood off of it

“I asked you how my sister is”

Keith almost felt sorry for Matt. A cranky Lance was a scary thing

“How do you think she is? I know you were staying away to do the right thing by your family, but you really fucking hurt her by not replying. She pretty much worships you, and you weren’t replying. She’s fine physically. Still hunting ghosts and making videos. Still wanting to do dumb things like she’s isn’t a human. Her and Hunk are still as tight as always. Hunk’s got a girlfriend now, Shay. She’s just like him, they’re so sweet together. They’ve got no idea about this world. I’ve never told her and I’ve done my best to make sure she never finds out”

Matt looked upset, hopefully with his actions

“You wouldn’t understand... I wasn’t going to come back...”

Keith groaned mentally, why would Matt go there? Lance understood too well what a bite did to a family

“I wouldn’t understand? Please tell me how I don’t know how being turned can ruin your family? How you’re scared of what you are and you don’t understand? I have no idea at all. We both know if Pidge knew, she’d want the bite. She’d want to be part of this world. Heck, I think she’s so interested in the paranormal because she wants to feel close to you again. Rieva, please don’t think I’m having a go at you. I know accidental turns happen, and how scared you must have been to turn Matt. I’ve put you and Matt in the room Keith and Shiro were using, the guest bathroom is near your room. It’s the downstairs spare room. Shiro, I’ll bunk you Curtis and Keith. I’ll have to find a spare bed, or one of you can sleep in the living room. Normally I don’t have a full house to worry about. My office is off limits. I work as a lawyer so I’d rather keep my clients information confidential. If I have to talk to a client, I’ll try warn you ahead of time. If you want to train, do it out on the back lawn, and don’t kill my garden. Also, Curtis and Keith aren’t allowed near the toaster without supervision... And maybe don’t touch Keith’s coffee, he’d likely to stab you for trying. He revivals Pidge with his need for caffeine. I’m going to double check the bedroom upstairs”

Lance had barely left the kitchen before Keith was pushing his chair back. Shiro cocking his head as he watched

“Where are you going?”

“To check on Lance. He’s obviously upset”

“When did become so perceptive?”

“When you went disappeared for weeks. Pidge is like a sister to Lance. Everything dangerous she wants to do he always checks it out first to make sure doesn’t get hurt. He’s been looking out for her, even when it puts him in danger. He collapsed a mine shaft so Pidge wouldn’t be hurt... Don’t listen to our conversation”

Yeah, Keith wasn’t be fair. He’d basically tattooed “I’m not okay with this situation across his forehead”. Shiro would make him apologise later, but for now he wanted to check on Lance. He’d gone from having Hunk and Pidge staying over to 6 people kind of living with him. Keith was already at his people limit before everyone came back. He’d missed Shiro, but he wasn’t sure he was keen on Matt. He wasn’t about to shoot him, but family was a complicated thing that Lance had had such a hard time with. Heading upstairs he headed straight for Lance’s bedroom, knowing he’d find him there.

*

Knocking gently on Lance’s door, he found Lance sitting on the side of his bed like he liked to do when he was thinking

“I didn’t handle that very well”

Keith sighed as he walked over to the bed, before sitting down next to Lance and taking his hand

“I think I handled that even worse”

“I heard. It’s just... my body is being weird again. I’m not used to the scent of werewolves and it’s making everything all yuck. I’ll get over it, but I shouldn’t have been so short with Matt”

“You were worried about Pidge. You’re allowed to worry about your friends”

Lance dropped his head to rest of Keith’s shoulder

“Still. I made a horrible first impression”

“If Matt is anything like Pidge, you’ll be fine once it settles down a bit”

“I feel like I’m lying to her by not letting her know he’s here and that he’s okay”

“Nah. Think of it like a surprise. Besides, you’re not intentionally hurting her by not telling her right away”

“Still feels like I am. How are you? You must be happy Shiro’s back”

“I’m relieved. I’m still mad at him though. I get why he had to keep quiet until things were organised”

“You two will work things out. You should be downstairs with everyone else...”

“I’m fine here. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. How’s the hand?”

“Healed up. I must have looked so lame breaking the glass”

“You didn’t meant to”

“It still happened. I know Pidge is human and close ties are dangerous but I don’t want to see her hurt”

“I know you don’t. It’s one of the things I like about you”

“It’s not my great arse and award winning personality?”

Lance tried to joke but it sounded flat. Keith didn’t like it. Lance was being too hard on himself for caring

“Those too. So, what are we going to do about bedding? I don’t mind sleeping on the couch”

“If anyone should be sleeping on the couch, it should be me. I knew I didn’t have enough beds, but I don’t know what to do about that”

“I can sleep on the couch. I’ve slept on way worse”

“Mami would have a fit if I made a guest sleep on the couch”

“Then how about we share a bed?”

Keith didn’t mean it to sound as forward as it did. But Lance’s bed would easily fit both of them, and there was only one bed left. Not that he actually minded the couch. There would be plenty of space for him

“I don’t know... wouldn’t that make things awkward with Shiro?”

“Like you said, I need to talk to him anyway”

“I get nightmares...”

“So do I”

“But you’re not a vampire. I could seriously hurt you”

“Or, it could be fine. Why don’t we just try it for the night and think about things tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I turned the forth room into my office... maybe I could sleep there?”

“Lance, it’s your house. You shouldn’t be kicked out your own bed for doing a nice thing and giving Rieva and Matt a place to call home”

“I can’t imagine what the two of them went through. I really hope they don’t hate me”

“Like you said, it’s an ego thing. You can’t control that, but if anyone can bring their ego under control, it’s you”

Lance let out a small snort. Keith taking the win

“See, you know I’m right. You’re overthinking things”

“Only because I’m rubbish at hosting people”

“Nah, I’m still here, aren’t I?

“Only because you’re stubborn”

“I’m as stubborn as you are. Seriously though, you’re fine. Things’ll settle down”

“I’m worried about going into heat. I have I idea how to explain that”

“You don’t have to, unless you want to”

“I’m not going to have much choice if I turn into a bat”

“We can talk to Shiro together. Or I can tell him. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable”

“You’re the one I’m worried about. I don’t want you and Shiro to end up fighting because of me”

That was so Lance

“Even if we fight, we’re brothers at the end of the day”

“That must be nice. Mami is the glue that keeps my family together. I miss her”

For someone older than him, Lance was sweet for still caring for his mum the way he did. If it wasn’t for the fact they had three new arrivals, Keith would suggest a trip up to Platt

“Why don’t you call her?”

“She’d known something’s up. She’s got enough to worry about”

“She loves you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. But I get if you don’t want to call her. Can I do anything?”

“You already are. You should go talk to Shiro. I might take a nap and calm down”

Lance took too much on his shoulders. Keith didn’t want to leave him alone when he was feeling down

“I can stay...”

“Nah. I’ll Be okay. You go make up with Shiro. It’ll make me feel better”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming to check on me”

“I’ve got your back”

“I know... if I’m not away in hour or so, come poke me with a stick”

Keith found himself kissing the top of Lance’s head, before replying

“Will do. I’ll find the biggest stick I can”

“Why do I feel like you’re actually going to find a stick now?”

“Because I am. Now let’s get you tucked in. Can’t have you sleeping on top of the covers”

“I’m not a little kid”

“You could be”

“Fight me”

Keith laughed. He deserved that one

“After the old man gets his sleep. I’ll sort things out with Shiro, so stop worrying about it so much”

“I can’t help it. I care about you”

Keith kissed the top of Lance’s head again. Shiro was going to be confused as fuck when he finally explained what was going on between him and Lance. Hopefully his brother would be more distracted by what was happening with his heart that his newly discovered love life

“I care about you too. It’s going to be okay”

[astralastrid]

Usuk week day 3: Fantasy

@usukweek

Considering he was part of what people considered the "occult" Arthur's fascination with it might be considered strange.

However, Arthur was a fairy. And despite their notoriety for causing mischief (which was well deserved) they were also tasked with keeping law and order within nature and the rest of the world. And as such, all of the highest supernatural crime was dealt with the Seelie or Unseelie Courts, depending on the nature of the crime.

In short, fairies were far too busy to really be social or venture out into the world, and their free-time was usually spent blowing off steam through various methods of trickery.

But not Arthur. Arthur wanted to see the world, and learn as much as he could. He kept his studies a secret, however, for a fear of judgement. After all, what kind of fairy concerned themselves like that with others?

Whenever he could, he snuck out to do "research" and over the years had learned plenty about the creatures around him. His favorite by far were the unicorns, as they were very majestic and beautiful, and possessed some sort of innocent and childlike whimsy. However, they could be nefarious tricksters and even violent creatures, their horns and hooves rivaling even the sharpest swords.

Still, there was one creature that was difficult to obtain a first-hand experience with, due to their nocturnal nature compared with Arthur's diurnal: the vampire.

Now he had heard the myths. The difficulty with holy items. The ability to transform into a bat. The lethality of sunlight. But he didn't have a way to verify the claims. Until now.

However, Alfred was cold to the touch, he didn't have a pulse, and was almost always freezing, except when right after he fed.

***

Just because he was a vampire, doesn't mean Alfred was going to let himself be stereotypical. If you didn't notice how pale he was, you would've never guessed. He had bright sunny hair and sky blue eyes, he kept himself fit, and his fangs were retractable, so that didn't give it away either.

And speaking of feeding, despite what others claimed, he only fed on large animals. Usually other deer. He had one, very strict rule, and it was never to feed on a intelligent and conscious being. It wasn't difficult to abide by, as he never let himself get desperate enough to do it, and he had a fridge full of blood substitute to snack on. He refused to be like the others, turning and killing others without a second thought.

But lately something seemed... Off... in his home. It felt like he could feel another presence, and it definitely wasn't a ghost. (And he had checked! He was terrified of ghosts.) Sometimes he would hear some sort of buzzing noise, but never find any sort of bug, and hear little snickers or curses, but it didn't come from his computer or phone. It confused him, but he knew his place wasn't haunted, and he decided to ignore it. If they wanted to attack or steal from him they would've done it by now. So he just accepted his new life and pushed it to the back of his mind.

***

Arthur hadn't intended to become so attached to the vampire- Alfred, as he had learned- in such a short time, but he did anyway. Initially, once he gathered all the information he needed, he planned to leave the lad alone. But something about Alfred kept bringing the fairy back day after day, and he even became nocturnal just to see him, despite him having long been done with his "research."

For starters, Alfred was breathtaking, and not at all what he had expected. In fact, Arthur often found himself thinking how more suited he would be as a fairy, or an elf, or even a bloody werewolf! Anything except a vampire. With someone like Alfred, it just seemed unfair.

But who was Arthur to judge? He was nothing like what a fairy was supposed to be.

For what he could tell, Alfred had such a vibrant and bright personality, made to be around others. But there were few creatures of the night, and something told Arthur the vampire didn't like his kind. Was he turned aganist his will perhaps? Either way the poor lad was dreadfully lonely. And Arthur decided to fix that.

Arthur didn't know how Alfred felt about his own kind, the fae, since the fae were the species almost everyone was told to stay away from. Therefore, his attempts at friendship started off small: he replenished his substitute blood supply, folded is laundry, even going as far as to do his dishes if he fell asleep before he could clear  them himself.

And it wasn't like his efforts went unnoticed. Alfred would be surprised, but always said a "thank you" to what he called his "secret roomie."

Over time, Arthur became a little bolder, and started leaving notes for him, always signed "A."

He always looked forward to seeing how Alfred's face lit up whenever he received a new note, smiling as he furiously scribbled one back.

They talked just about anything, Arthur inadvertently learning more about vampires along the way, but that had long become irrelevant.

However all his prodding, Arthur never revealed his species to Alfred, too afraid of ruining their friendship, and the fairy knew how much this hurt the vampire, after he had shared so much about him and his kind, but Arthur always insisted he was better off not knowing.

Despite this small conflict, the two had gotten closer and closer. To the point where Arthur stopped considering him just a friend. Unfortunately, this only increased his worries, and this ended with more and more arguments.

Alfred eventually reached his breaking point. He exclaimed with a roar, "well if you're not going to tell me Arthur, then I don't want you here anymore!" By this time the fairy had long revealed his name to Alfred, but the vampire always called him "Artie" or even still "A." To hear him use his full name hurt.

But he was right. Alfred had basically welcomed an intruder to stay in his his home, and had been so kind, open, and even vulnerable with him. Telling him would be least he could do to repay his kindness.

So Arthur gave in, saying that he tell him tomorrow, and only prayed that Alfred wouldn't reject him.

***

24 hours was so dreadfully short. Arthur's anxiety only grew as he sat and waited for Alfred to find his note leading to him. Seconds seemed like hours, and he was already preparing himself to become diurnal again-

"Artie?" The moment had come.

"I'm over here Alfred." He had to use a spell to magnify his voice, hoping he could hear him.

Alfred looked around for the source, but couldn't find it. Arthur couldn't blame him. Fairies were quite small. "Arthur, I swear, if you'll pulling a prank on me-" he cut himself off, seeming to think about it. "Unless you're some naturally invisible creature I've never heard of. That would be cool."

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm on the windowsill. Do you see the note? I'm on it." Alfred approached him and the fairy felt his heart beat faster in his chest. If the vampire couldn't hear his voice, he had to be able to hear how loudly his heart was pounding.

Finally it seemed like Alfred saw him. He squinted, took off his glasses, then put them back on. "I can't believe it. Arthur don't tell me you're a fairy?"

Arthur gulped, but held his head up high. "That I am. Is that an issue?"

Alfred quickly shook his head. "No! Of course it isn't it's just, you're more beautiful than I imagined..." He then blushed, realizing what he said.

The fairy chuckled. "Thank you love. Trust me you weren't what I was expecting when I first saw you either. But I'm surprised. Why aren't you running away? Trying to banish me? Aren't you familiar with what they say about my kind?"

Alfred frowned. "Arthur, you know how I feel about other vampires. Why would I judge you based on something you can't really control? You're an individual. And if it means anything, you're nothing like the fairies I've heard of. You're not mean or malicious. You're kind, and funny, and witty and cute..." Alfred blushed again, stopping himself. He quickly tried to change the subject. "But fairies aren't usually nocturnal, are they?"

Arthur shook his head. "Some are, but I'm not. I changed it just for you." At Alfred's confused look, he sighed and continued to explain. "You're right, I'm not much like the others. The fae usually keep to themselves. We're much too busy keeping tabs on everything after all. So we rarely leave our communities, rarely see the outside world, but not I. I craved knowledge. For years I would sneak out and watch other creatures, learning all I could, but of course, due to your nocturnal nature, it was difficult to find more out about your kind. But still I persisted, found you, and you know the rest."

Alfred nodded slowly. He seemed to understand but he still seemed... Hurt? "So I was nothing but a research project to you?"

He quickly shook his head. "Alfred, poppet, of course not! It might have started that way but once I got to know you I couldn't leave. That's why I adjusted my own internal clock. Helped you out around your home. Started writing notes. I really value our friendship Alfred. Make no mistake of that. I was just so scared you'd reject me once you knew who I really was... And I couldn't stand the thought. I've grown so attached to you, and my feelings for you have grown as well..." It was the closest he could get to a confession. He just hoped it didn't go over Alfred's head.

Luckily it didn't, and slowly but surely the vampire realized what he had said. "You... Like me?"

Arthur chuckled. "Way more than just like, love."

Alfred beamed. "I like you too Arthur, more than just like! But, what about your duties? Have you been doing them at all?"

Arthur sighed. "I haven't. If the Courts find me they'll have my head." He smiled wickedly. "But who says they have to find me?"

Alfred laughed. "I guess you're right. But where would you go? All your family and friends are faires aren't they?"

"But you aren't. If you'll have me of course."

The vampire smiled. "Of course I'll have you. You won't be that much of a secret roommate anymore!" He then sighed. "I really wish I could hug you right now."

Arthur smiled mischievously again. "I have one last surprise. Close your eyes."

Alfred took a deep breath and waited, suddenly feeling the press of lips against his. He didn't waste any time in kissing him back. When they pulled away Alfred stared at him in shock. "How did you...?"

Arthur cut him off, chuckling. "Simple shapeshifting magic love. Much like you can turn into a bat yes?"

He smiled. "I guess so. I'm just glad I can hold you without crushing you."

Arthur chuckled. "And I'm glad you accepted me."

Alfred kissed his cheek. "Of course Artie. We're both not like the norm, but at least we have each other."

[cintanna-stuff]

A-Z for Nevra... yeah yeah???

NSFW alphabet for Nevra

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Since Nevra sometimes bites Erika during sex, he usually licks her wound afterwards, to make sure it will heal properly. 

B = Body Part (His favourite body part of their partners)

If you ask him, he’ll say her boobs and while it’s true that Nevra is a perv and loves Erika’s boobs, he also loves hearing her voice and also, obviously, her neck. He loves to touch and lick her boobs as involve them in other activities because he’s a perv, he loves her voice because he loves her and has a good hearing that won’t let Erika hide any sound and he loves her neck because feeling her strong pulse beneath her skin while they’re making love wakes something primal in him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Literally anywhere , he’ll try anything, maybe preference for boobs. Yet he prefers inside while he’s sucking her blood. 

D = Dirty Secret

He doesn’t want Erika to know the exact number of women he’s been with, even less that one time he spend the night with two at the same time. But that’s a thing of the past anyway, now he only craves for her body and blood.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Umm... he’s experienced. He might have been with too many girls but at least he learnt from it. Nevra is very good and pleasing their partners, but here’s the thing about him: he wasn’t always like that. Nev was born a vampire, he has a natural charm that attracts girls (prey) to him so he can feed, that’s how it works. Yet, he didn’t always know how to please women back but he was committed in gaining experience. Eventually women wanted him not only due to that natural charm but also because he was GOOD.

F = Favourite Position

He likes to face her and to have her neck accessible. Even if he doesn’t intend to drink her blood that night, he’ll want to lick, kiss and nibble her neck and jaw.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in bed? Or are the humorous?)

He can be a bit teasing, but not always

H = Hair (Are they groomed down there? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Nevra is clean and presentable at all times, you never know when Erika will ask for sum of his love 👀 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, are they romantic?)

Nevra is usually romantic and sensual. He wants to connect with Erika in all possible ways and that’s partially why he loves when she asks him to bite her, it’s a special and intimate connection for a vampire. It’s sensual and romantic, but the biting also gives us a glimpse of his non-human and more brutal side.

J = Jack Off

Meh. Prefers not to do it but if he has to he’ll enjoy it anyway, he’ll take his time though. Nevra doesn’t only know how to touch women but he also knows how to touch himself. He doesn’t always use his hands, sometimes he might try to rub himself against the silky pillows or sheets of his bed (or maybe not his bed 👀 ) Maybe he’d do it rubbing himself with Erika’s panties.

K = Kink

I mean, drinking her blood during sex is kinky enough. Next level would be having a decent amount of her blood still in his mouth and kiss her just to see her red, stained lips afterwards, and kiss them again. 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere, he doesn’t mind being caught. But he prefers doing it on a nice, comfy bed, even though things might get brutal during the act and action can be taken to the floor or against the wall.

M = Motivation (What turns him on? What gets him going?)

Seeing Erika drink something and spilling it down her lips or on herself. When she asks him to bite her. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do.)

Going too far with his vampire nature. He’d never make a decision like transforming her into a vampire in the middle of fucking unless it was something they agreed on, no matter how much he feels she belongs to him or they must be together for all eternity.

O = Oral (Do they like to give or receive? Are they skilled?)

Dirty man likes to receive, to feel Erika’s soft hands travel down his pecs while she kneels and sucks him off. Yet, he’s more of a giver, he doesn’t only use those fangs he also knows how to move that tongue to make her see white.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Usually slow and sensual. Once he draws his fangs he gets more primal and can get rougher. Still it doesn’t always happen, depends on the mood.

Q = Quickie

Yes why not, prefers taking it slowly but quickie is much better than having to jack off. He won’t bite that often during quickies, only if he’s really hungry.

R = Risk (Do they take risks? Are the willing to experiment?)

Yes, he’s willing to experiment and take risks, and not only try new things on Erika, but also let her try them on him. Whatever it is if they talk about it beforehand (or they insinuate it while they’re doing it), he’ll most likely be willing to try.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can go for many rounds and has a lot of stamina.

T = Toy (Do they own toys?)

Don’t have toys in Eldarya, but if he learnt about them on earth he’d want to try some.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

Sometimes he teases, not as much as he might seem though. He gives up quickly

V = Volume

While making love, he’ll let go of some low moans, grunts and whispers, also he’ll say her name. “C’mon love, ride harder” “Take as much as you want, greedy” “you look too beautiful like this”

W = Wild Card

Once he caught Erika touching herself in her room. She didn’t notice him, and he surprised himself just looking at her and touching himself until he came. I said “surprised himself” because he never expected to enjoy watching her like that without running into the room to throw himself on top of her.

X = X-ray (What’s going on down there?)

Not the biggest guy, but still pretty decent, bigger than average. It’s pale but his tip flushes with a nice peachy pink.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

High, what a question

Z = Zzz (How quickly did they fall asleep?)

During night? Not that quickly, he’s a nocturnal faerie.

--------

I’ll complete the asks about the alphabet I already have in my inbox but I won’t be taking more requests about this for the time being.

[thoughtsofamidnightson]

title: Epiphany

series: Thoughts of a Midnight Son

part: 1 / 1

setting: Eclipse, before the proposal

word count: 3114

rating: T

author’s note: This is my first piece ever written from Edward’s point of view, and my first time writing Twilight fanfiction in seven (?!) years. My aim was to make it as canon as possible. If you read it, I would love to hear your honest opinion — if anything can be improved, I would like to know. A special thanks to @obstinateswan on Instagram for being an extraordrinary beta reader. 

On so many occasions during the past ninety years, I had wished to sleep. To kill the inharmonious symphonies constantly buzzing in my head, to be enclosed in complete and utter silence, to not hear the happy and life-affirming thoughts of love in my family. It was tiring. Tiring to be reminded every living second that while the six others had a purpose for living, a raison d’être, I drifted through life (if you could even call it that) with no aim or progress. After the first time, earning a medical degree wasn’t exactly an accomplishment, much less a reason to live. I didn’t share my father’s admirable self-control, which meant I couldn’t even put my exceeding knowledge of medical theory to use and devote my inexhaustible time to save lives. And as I was frozen in a 17-year-old body, I neither could engage in any other purposeful field of work. Just infinite books and tunes, for all eternity. When you spend so much time just existing, there comes a time when you wish you could succumb to the sweet release sleeping would be and simply not exist. A couple of hours once a decade would have sufficed.

But now, lying here next to the sleeping form of the purest and most beautiful creature to ever have existed, I was grateful for my lacking ability to repose; every second I was awake meant another second of watching Bella sleep. Of studying her peaceful face, listening to her slow heartbeat and her deep, even breaths, and, if I were lucky, and I often were, getting a delightful glimpse of her otherwise inaccessible mind, of her unedited and honest thoughts. There were few things for which I would trade that opportunity.

Almost on cue, she murmured my name, her mouth barely moving, her eyelids fluttering slightly, and as if the words were obliged to follow like they were my surname, she whispered, ‘I love you.’ My chest instantly filled with warmth (albeit an illusion), and like every other time I had heard her say my name in her sleep, it felt as if my heart skipped a beat.

But it didn’t. Or rather, it skipped every beat. It always would. From that night in nineteen-eighteen till eternity, it would stay the same: hard as stone and cold as ice—reminding me that although the ability to witness Bella sleep had made me feel somewhat of a fondness for my otherwise condemned nature a moment prior, there was still nothing I wanted more in this world than to not be what I was. To be warm and soft, to be mortal. Human. To feel my heart pump to the rhythm of Bella’s. To fall asleep with her in my arms. To dream about her. To kiss her without holding back. To feel the comfortable exhaustion, in my head and in my body, from staying up all night together. But more than anything else, I wanted—every frozen cell of my undead body wanted—to give her a normal human life, a human relationship. A love that did not force her to make a choice between constantly facing the risk of dying, or immortality. I wanted to attend college with her, to stay up and write assignments, get tipsy together at private parties, to take her out on dinner dates, to watch her face and body change as time went by, to give her children— as many or as few as she wanted—to grow old with her, to look at our grey hair and think of all the years I’d been blessed with her love, of how much we’d lived and loved in just one lifetime. One lifetime with her would never be enough—forever wouldn’t be enough— but was limited time the price I was willing to pay if it meant we could have a human relationship? I wanted her to experience all aspects of human love, and I, selfishly, wanted to experience them with her. Aspects I had, although having heard humans value them for nearly a century, so wrongly judged as trivial and superfluous. They were not, however, and I saw that now that I loved someone myself; what I wouldn’t give to have those seemingly mundane human moments with Bella.

Yet maybe eternity was exactly what I wouldn't give in return for being human together. How could you fit the infinite sea into a fixed container, force boundless love into measured time? As much as I longed and craved for these other terms of existence, I also couldn’t ignore the simple fact that if immortality had not been forced upon me all those years ago, I never would have had the chance to meet Bella. Frankly, I plausibly would have died before she was even conceived. Regardless of how many times I thought about it, it always afflicted me; the universe had granted me a reason to live. A reason to be truly content at the core of my being—that is, loving Bella and having her miraculously and for some unfathomable reason love me in return. But I was only alive to experience it because the same universe had taken my mortality and made me a blood-lusting monster—whose very existence threatened the life of this only reason to live. It never ceased to seem like a sick joke to me. A ludicrous paradox. But perhaps the perfect world simply could not exist. Perhaps it was only fair. To me, not to her. From the moment I had first touched her life, the universe had been unfair to her. Had it been fair, it would have let her escape, made her flee while she had the chance, let her move on when I had left. But it didn’t. She didn’t. And so she was here, lying in the cold embrace of a man (if that was what I was) who would never grow old with her, never make her a mother—never give her the human love she deserved more than any other soul in this world.

She stirred a little, nuzzling closer to me and laying her hand on my chest. I pulled the blanket tighter around her and glanced at her bare arm, checking for any indication that she was cold, but her skin was smooth as ever, almost glowing in the streak of pale moonlight that shone through her thin curtains. Lightly, she clenched the fabric of my t-shirt in her fist and let out a pleased sound. My body stiffened instinctively. Letting go of my shirt, her hand drifted lower, down my torso, while her lips muttered syllables, which, despite being incoherent, told me she appreciated whatever she was dreaming of. I carefully grabbed her hand before it could slide further down my abdomen and tucked her arm back in under the blanket. She quietly groaned in objection and I kissed the top of her head, breathed in her intoxicating scent, and let out a sigh. Oh, to be human.

I felt her settle against my side, grazing my ribcage with her nose before finally falling into a deeper sleep. Or so I thought. ‘Change me,’ she suddenly pleaded into my shirt, still clearly asleep, and my lips twitched up into a humorless smile; how preposterously ironic it was that while I lied here, so desperately wishing that the heart in my chest was beating, she dreamt of hers freezing forever. The thought sickened me, although less now than before; I had come to realize that it was the inevitable future. Not because our relationship couldn’t continue if she stayed human (it could), nor because we were bound by the laws of our self-proclaimed overlords in Italy. No, Bella’s future as a vampire could not be prevented because she was extraordinarily and incomparably stubborn, and she wanted to be turned. It went against everything I wanted for her; it was everything I did not want for her. It was the future I had feared the most next after her premature death. But she had made her decision, and I would have to live with it.

I tried to picture her. Alice’s visions had gotten incredibly (and frustratingly) clear, crystalline, lately, so imagining Bella with golden eyes and marble skin wasn’t exactly difficult. What was difficult was imagining Bella like this without feeling prodigious disgust. Not that I didn’t find the sight itself appealing; she was impossibly beautiful—immortality wouldn’t change that. No, it was the mere idea of her giving up her life only to be with me which made me sick to my stomach. Although it had been a while since it had last appeared in my mind, the image of Hades condemning Persephone to a life in his kingdom of the dead suddenly burned my retina.

I clenched my eyes shut, trying to shove away my glum thoughts. I might have been Hades, but Bella wasn’t Persephone. I knew that now. Unlike the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, she had had a choice; it was her own decision to give up her human life altogether. She wanted to be with the monster. I would never intentionally, never willingly force her to renounce mortality in favor of my underworld—on the contrary, I had done everything in my power to prevent her katabasis. Did that mean I neither was Hades after all?

On one hand, I felt self-infatuated for still being with her. I had tried, tried to free her from the destiny she now had decided upon, and I had failed. I had been too weak. My selfish desires had won over her right to have a normal human life, and I had come back. I had stayed with her, because I couldn’t live without her. It might have been her own decision that she would give up her mortality, but it was a decision she never would have made—she never would have had to make—if I had stayed out of her life.  

On the other hand, and this voice of reason was quite often defeated by the former, she couldn’t live without me either. When I left her, I had caused her immense pain. I knew that, not only because the pictures from Charlie’s mind of her hollow-eyed and ashen face still haunted me. But because I knew she loved me, and if she had felt just a fraction of the agony and torture I had felt when we were separated, she still would have suffered enough for a lifetime. I knew the thought of aging, the thought of our time together running out, pained her greatly, and I could and would not put her through any pain again.

Except I would. Once my venom reached her blood, she would burn in hell, and she wouldn’t know when it would stop. All she would know was pain, the excruciating feeling of being burned alive. I winced at the thought, my fingers clenching into fists.

But the pain would stop, I reminded myself. She would wake up, feeling different—so different—but she would feel good, new. At least that is what I told myself. If I could believe she would enjoy life beyond the pain, that having forever together would be enough for her not to eventually regret her choice, the thought of turning her was slightly less intolerable.

She turned in her sleep, and I gazed down to check on her. The sight was breath-taking. Her soft lips were slightly parted, her long, dark eyelashes brushed her smooth cheeks, and the blanket had ridden a couple of inches down, revealing her bare shoulders and collarbone. I suddenly felt an overwhelming, though not foreign urge to kiss her on the neck, to let my lips linger on her hot skin while brushing my fingers down her arm. Would her chest flush? Would she sigh in pleasure? 

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall with a quiet groan, my face raised towards the ceiling, my arms crossed. When thoughts like these invaded my mind—and they frequently did—I repressed them. I felt ashamed and impure for letting her be the object of my carnal desires, for having any carnal desires at all. Repressing them helped me stay in control, but it didn’t make them go away. I wanted her. I could not deny that. So why did I deny myself thinking of her?

I knew she thought of me. Her dream earlier testified to that, as well as the fact that she often tried to initiate more when we kissed, and the look of disappointment, shame, and yearning on her face when I had to break it off. Sometimes I think she misread my reluctance towards intimacy as I not having the same desires as she. If only she knew—what she did to me, how much I cursed my nature every time I had to pull away, how much I wanted to deepen our kiss, how much I craved to touch her, to worship her like a Goddess. How every fiber of my being ached for the feeling of her naked body against mine, of being one with her. If only she knew how much self-control it took me not to be with her the way I had so blisteringly longed for since the day I fell in love with her.

But I refused to give in to the lust—both mine and hers. At least until after our wedding. The rational part of me loathed the idea of consummating our marriage while she was still human, but I sensed she wished to have this one experience before she was turned, and it was irritatingly hard to deny her anything she wanted. Especially when it was something I, somewhere in the dark and primal corners of my mind, wanted myself. And so, if she verbalized her desire to be intimate before her body froze forever, I would agree to make love on our honeymoon. Like human newlyweds, except this was a tad more dangerous; it could end fatally. And yet, I would make her this promise if need be, and not only because my forbidden and selfish desires had gotten the better of me; if she experienced the unequaled and ‘earth-shattering’ ecstasy, which I, through ninety years of being a telepath, had learned sex was, maybe—maybe—she would want to stay human. Just a couple of more years. Just long enough for her to finish college. By now, it was my only hope.

Thinking about this (slight) possibility made me wonder how high a percentage her longing for a more physical relationship took up of the reason she wanted to be changed. Was it twenty percent? Fifty percent? Eighty? Was the only reason she wanted to be like me that she didn’t think she would ever be… sated if she stayed human? For a moment, I imagined an alternate universe in which I had been the human and she the vampire. What would I have done? What would I have wanted her to do? Would I have wanted the same as she did? I merged the picture of her, golden-eyed, pale, and visually perfect, with a much blurrier portrait of a 17-year-old, green-eyed, and humanly flawed Edward Masen, Jr. Which thoughts would have occupied him if he had fallen in love with immortal Bella Swan in the year 2005? I, undoubtedly, would not have loved her less, meaning that I would have been as little willing and capable of living without her as I was now. In consequence, I would never in a million years have allowed her to just let me age, outgrow her eternal youth, and decay until my death. I would never want to die if being with her forever was a possibility. What was the point of an Elysium if she would never be there?

The only Eden, the only eternal peace, would be joining her in immortality.  

And we would be equal. I would free her from the perpetual fear of hurting me, her throat wouldn’t scorch in my presence, and she wouldn’t have to cling on to her last bit of self-control whenever our lips touched. We could be physically intimate as much, as freely, and as intensely as we wanted to. And we would have forever to love each other.

In equal delight and horror, I found that the thought of Bella and I being immortal together suddenly… appealed to me. Putting myself in her place and she in mine made it easier to see the advantages of her transformation. When I had gotten over the physical pain I would cause her and the fact that I had cost her a normal human life, there would be things I wouldn’t mind, would enjoy even in our new existence together. An odd, fluttering sensation filled my chest and stomach. The dust in the air suddenly seemed to glisten like specks of white gold. From somewhere in the dark, a sigh of relief could be heard.

I looked down at the angel in my arms, now sound asleep. Carefully, as not to wake her (though my experience was that not even deafening thunder could awake her in this state), I slid down in the bed and lied fully down next to her. With a feather-light touch, I brushed my thumb across her cheek, cupped her face, and as an overwhelming stream of unconditional and inexpressible love flowed through me, I kissed her on her forehead.  

‘I get it now,’ I whispered to her sleeping face, so quietly that I doubted she would have heard if she had been awake. ‘I dream of being with you forever, too.’

Unlike at her prom all those months ago and any other moment prior to this, I could now return these words without flinching in pain or dread. It felt indescribably magnificent.

‘But until the time comes, I will soak up and savor every moment your heart is beating,’ I told her, placing another kiss on her forehead. She responded with an appreciative sound and nestled impossibly closer to me. I couldn’t help the stupid grin I suddenly felt appearing on my face; no one would ever make anyone as happy as she made me.

I had never been ungrateful for the life Carlisle had given me (my existential hate had always been directed towards myself), but now I suddenly felt unprecedented and completely over-shadowing gratitude for the immortal life I had been granted. After all, it had led me to Bella, and she was all I ever wanted—and because she had made the choice she had, all I would ever have. Forever. 

[snowkatze]

These Violent Delights

Link to ao3: These Violent Delights Genre: angst and fluff Word Count: 4357 Summary: Simon is watching 'Romeo and Juliet' in Magic History and he watches Baz write something on a paper. Later, Simon finds the paper and sees that Baz wrote a romantic sonnet. Who is he in love with? Includes one quote from Wayward Son but no spoilers. There’s also quotes  from 'How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, '[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]' by e.e. cummings, 'Love Sonnet XI' by Pablo Neruda and 'Annabel Lee' by Edgar Allen Poe, and 'Romeo and Juliet' by William Shakespeare.

___

Leonardo DiCaprio is one gorgeous bastard. I've always thought so, when I was watching Titanic with Agatha during the Christmas holidays. (I think she wanted me to hold her hand. Maybe she wanted me to see what an epic romance looks like. I missed the cue. On both accounts.) He also makes one hell of a Romeo. Like, I get why Juliet would lay down her life for him. He's wearing a medieval knight costume to a party on screen. He's got a cheap fake sword, too, but unfortunately, he's not using it. It's not really that interesting, right now. Nobody's getting stabbed. Juliet is so enamored with Romeo. She's such a fool, really. Baz' hair is blocking the corner of the screen. It's fluffed up and soft on top of his head.

I've stabbed goblins, trolls, merwolves, a dragon, once... I've never been to a party. Baz would look good in a knight costume. Or with angels wings. Demons wings, maybe. Is that a thing?

Baz is taking notes, because of course he is. Even when we're watching a movie in class. Penny's right next to me, she's not taking notes. I'm not taking notes. I mean, we all know the story, right? Romeo and Juliet fall in love, their families have a feud that any Family Feud host would keel over because of, in the end they kill each other or something... Baz turns his head, and I can see that his hair falls in a swoop over his forehead. How tragic... Maybe I'll end up stabbing Baz. I just hope he'll - ...

I really should have held Agatha's hand when I had the chance.

I try to drag my gaze back to the screen, but the top of Baz' head is pretty distracting. Maybe he sat in front of me on purpose, so I couldn't see. He knows damn well how tall he is.

Baz is well fit – I mean – Romeo is – I mean – Juliet. No, Agatha. I like Agatha. Merlin, what is wrong with me?

Romeo's not that fit, obviously. I mean, in a way, yeah. In a, I'd like to have arms that strong, way. In a, I'd like to have eyes that bloody gorgeous, what the hell? The director's called Baz, apparently. I didn't know there were people called Baz. Not so unique now, are you, Baz? I guess he's not actually called Baz. I don't suppose there's anyone else called Tyrannus Basilton bloody Grimm-Pitch. Bummer. Baz would make a great director, for sure. He's great at yelling people and ordering them around, for starters. He's also great at everything. Wow, they're talking for so long. Someone stab me. Crowley, his hair is so nice. I want - I want his shampoo. What the fuck is he writing? Is he already doing the homework? Sneaky bastard. Maybe I should call him out. Maybe I should start on the homework.

I start poking Penny with a pencil.

“Sod off,” she says.

I turn back to the screen. There's some argument. Two of the guys start punching each other, Romeo tries to go between them...

“Who's that?” I whisper to Penny. “Tybalt and Mercucio,” she whispers back. “Merlin, have you been watching at all?” A scratch? What is happening? Is this guy dying? My eyes are drawn to the screen. Suddenly, I feel unusually cold.

'A plague on both your houses...' he says... I grip the sleeve of my sweater. I watch as Mercucio dies, I watch as Romeo gets revenge on Tybalt... I watch Romeo and Juliet in the chapel... Baz sits up straight. He has stopped writing. I watch as Romeo drinks posion, thinking Juliet is dead... As Juliet reaches out for him... I thought Romeo's eyes were blue before, but in the close-up of his face when he's dying, they look kind of grey, almost like Baz'... I grip my sleeve tighter. I watch as Juliet shoots herself. But I can't watch the back of Baz' head anymore. I focus on the other corner of the screen and don't look away until the bell rings. What's wrong with dancing and parties? The screen goes black and my gaze snaps back to Baz.

Why does someone always has to get stabbed?

He's shoving his stuff in his backpack, all except for the paper he'd been writing on. He crumples it and throws it in the trashcan by the door. I keep looking at the door, even after he's gone. “Simon?” It's not an inevitability, is it? Romeo and Juliet, dying...

“Simon?” I mean, I knew, of course. Everyone knows. Romeo and Juliet die in the end.

“Simon.” It couldn't go any other way. “Simon!”

I snap my head around. Penny is looking at me. Why is she looking at me? “Simon, are you – crying?” Her eyes turn soft now. I try to unclench my jaw.

“No, I -”

I unclench my hand and touch my cheek. My fingers come back wet. Oh.

“It was just...” I start. “Just such a sad story.”

“It's Romeo and Juliet,” she says. “It's the sad story.” “I know,” I say. “I was expecting it, ob– obviously. But it still – still hit me like a ton of bricks.”

A truckload of bricks. A mountain of them. Even though I was expecting it.

I'm overwhelmed with the urge to count the days left until the end of the school year. How many days before...

I shoot up out of my seat. “How many hours til lunch?” I say and smile at Penny. She smiles back, but I can tell she's still cautious.

“You can't go a minute without thinking about food, can you?” she says and we start walking out of the class room. She tells me about what sentences from Shakespeare she thinks you can still make spells out of. She doesn't notice when I stop at the door. No one's left in the class room. No one sees when I duck down and pick up the crumpled paper Baz put in the bin and shove it in my pocket.

I catch up with Penny.

So, that was that for Magic History. I grab the strap of my backpack a little tighter than I usually would.

I think I'll have sour cherry scones for lunch.

___

After last period, I go to the restroom and perch myself up on the toilet seat. With jittery hands, I pull the crumpled paper from my pocket. I unfold it carefully, then close my eyes. Why did Baz throw this away? It can't just be notes, then. Baz wouldn't throw away his notes, unless he'd copied them carefully into his notebook before. Whatever is on this paper, Baz didn't want anyone to see. It's probably nothing. Just scribbles or maybe a sketch. I shouldn't do this, right? But – it's Baz.

I open my eyes and read. I am your Petrarchan sonnet, you are my Shakespearean tragedy

We are no star-crossed lovers but (You were the sun and I was crashing into you)

Ne'er dare there escape me no greater sigh and ne'er there be a lost soul more forlorn than me, gazing into thy pale blue eye, thou art my most cherished oxy-moron I call you tedious fool though the only fool is me you are my downfall (it's not the only way I fall) How unfair for thy image to be fair

Sanguine, for thy hope, for I am out for blood I will bear this burden, for I am bare

to the snow that burns me, the words that cut I wish we could run, my love runs deep, Fearing how soon we will run out of time Thy face when thou say'st 'wow' makes me say 'woe' I, your antithesis, thou art my rhyme There's no reason Stake my heart, deliver thy killing blow Upend me with bronze curls, torturous lips When thou bitest thy thumb but never thy lips Upend me with smiles, the beauty thou art, fuck you and curse what thou doth to my heart I read it twice. Except for the words he's crossed out, I don't really know what it means. But I do recognize the form and rhyme scheme. We talked about it in Magic History just last week. It's a sonnet. We're watching Shakespeare, and what does Baz do? Write a fucking sonnet. The pretentious arsehole. The complete wanker. Maybe it's a coded message and this is the key to uncovering one of Baz' plots. That would make sense of the fucking gibberish it is. Maybe someone else was meant to pick it up out of the bin. But there'd be easier ways if he wanted to pass something on to Dev or Niall. Maybe he meant for me to find it. No.

I don't fully understand, but my throat runs dry when I read it again. I feel cold again and I bite my lip because I feel like I'll make some noise otherwise. Love. He crossed it out, but it's still there. Baz is talking about love. Aleister Crowley.

Baz doesn't love anyone, or anything. He's a vampire. They can't. Maybe he was making fun of sonnets. Or of Romeo and Juliet. It could be like – creative writing. Fictional. Unreal. But it just feels a little too – honest.

Baz loves his mother. He talks about her like she hung the moon. He loves playing football. He's so fucking good at it, too. He loves school, he puts his entire soul into it. (He has a soul.) He eats Salt and Vinegar Crisps at night.

Crowley. He's in love with someone. No. He's tragically in love with someone. I don't know what to think.

Who? Who would Baz Pitch write tragic sonnets about? Who does he love so much? Is it Agatha? It has to be Agatha. Maybe he thinks he can't be with her. Crowley, why does he make it sound like such a tragedy? He's in love. He should be soaring. He should be happy. He could have anyone. (Well. Not anyone. But it's not like he wants me.) I realize I've hidden here for quite some time; Penny will be worried. I fold the paper carefully in put it back in my pocket. I make my way into the dining hall. Penny is frowning at me, but she's saved me some sour cherry scones.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“What's a Petrarchan sonnet?” I reply.

She pushes the plate with the scones to me.

“They're usually about unrequited love,” her frown deepens. “And they often include oxymorons.” Unrequited love... Baz is in unrequited love? Impossible.

I know what a Shakespearen tragedy is, obviously. It's the plays that don't have a happy ending. The ones that are... tragic. “Oxymoron,” I say. “What's that?”

“It's a self-contradiction. Loving hate, and that kind of stuff. Why? You need help studying? We can meet up later.” “No, it's fine,” I say and start picking one of the scones apart. “Was just wondering.” I am your antithesis... your opposite... Agatha isn't Baz' opposite anything. They're both posh and fancy. Only that Agatha's nice, and Baz is not. (Too much, anyway.)

Stake my heart... That's so dark. Why would Baz write stuff like that? He can have the dances, and the parties, and the fool-headed love. He can have everything.

I wonder why he's underlined the 'moron' in 'oxymoron'. Is he calling them a moron? Maybe they're thick... Baz probably thinks anyone not as smart as him is a moron. That could be anyone, except for Penny.

I've pulled the scone into tiny pieces. I'm not hungry right now, which never happens. But I don't need to eat. I need to know who Baz is in love with. I need to.

“Simon?” Penny says. She's frowning again. “Are you alright? You're not eating?” No.

“Of course. I just, uhm... Need to get some homework done.” “Are you keeping something from me? Remember, no secrets.” “It's... It's not my secret, okay? Just trust me.” If I showed Penny, she could figure out for sure who it's about. But for some reason, I don't want to. Baz is not in the dining room.

___

Baz is sitting on the bed, and all I can think is that he's in love with someone, and he writes sonnets about them, and he calls them moron and the sun and beautiful.

And he thinks he's going to run out of time.

Baz is a hopeless romantic. I didn't think he was before, but now I can see him on candlelight dinners, with roses on Valentine's day, Baz going to the movies, Baz holding hands... Baz has long, slim fingers and his hands are rough and beautiful. Beautiful. I wonder if I could write a sonnet. Not a fancy one, but...

“Baz,” I say and clear my throat.

He looks up from his book and cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Get lost,” he says.

“I just – I -” I pull the paper from my pocket. He drops his book and his eyes widen. He must know what it is, even before I've shown him what it is.

“Where'd you get that?” he demands, but his voice is shaking. He sits up and walks towards me. Not confidently, like usually. His gaze flickers around. His hand reaches out, but he doesn't grab it. (Juliet's hand reaches out...) “I just – I found it -”

“Crowley, Snow, you ever hear of privacy?” Usually, he would snarl at me. Usually, he would just grab the paper from me. I've never seen him lose composure like this.

“Who is it?” I say. My voice is shaking, too. Suddenly, his face snaps shut and his hand shoots forward. I let him take it. It's his. (I know it half by heart.)

“None of your business. None of this is.” “Who is it about?” “Nobody.” He stalks back to his bed, conversation over. Not for me.

“Tell me.” “No.” “Please.”

He stops talking and picks up his book. I know he's trying to ignore me, but I'm not going to let up. I can't. “Why do you even care?” He's not giving me an inch.

The arch of his brow is perfectly formed.

Romeo kills Juliet's cousin. Doesn't that make him a villain, of sorts? It was self-defense, in a way, but still. Shouldn't she hate him? But she loves him anyway... She's such a fool.

“I think you should tell them.” “Have you read the poem at all?” “It's not...” I say. Swallow. “I think you're wrong.” “I'm never wrong.” “Agatha and I aren't together anymore, if you're worried about that.” He's staring at me. His mouth is hanging open. It's Agatha. It has to be.

“Simon...”

“It's Agatha, isn't it?” I feel like crying. His jaw snaps shut.

“Merlin, no,” he says. Is he denying it? No. I think he's serious. (He's giving me an inch.)

“I just... I just think you have a chance.” Agatha doesn't have blue eyes, or bronze curls. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. Who has blue eyes and bronze curls? “I don't,” he says. “Did you tell them?” “Ha.”

“Then how do you know?” “I just do. Leave me alone.” He turns away. I won't let him.

“I just want to help. Let me help.”

“Snow.” He sounds so exhausted. Of course he is. He's yearning for someone.

“You don't understand anything.” I want him to call me Simon again. I want to go over to his bed and – do – something. I sit on my own bed and growl at him.

“Maybe I could ask them,” I say. “What they think about you.”

“Merlin, Snow, you want to be my wingman?” “I guess.” “You're ridiculous.” “I'm right.”

Call me Simon.

“We're not even friends.” Right. But not even my worst enemy should be so – so desperately in love. It must hurt so much. (It hurts so much.)

“We could be.” “Don't be insane.” I wonder why he's not picking a fight with me. He's dismissive, but not vicious. I think I've made him vulnerable.

“I'm not going to fight you,” I say then. I'm not going to cry again. I won't. I draw my knees to my chest.

“Of course you're going to fight me,” Baz says. His voice is almost soft.

“You're not going to run out of time,” I whisper. “Is that why it's a tragedy? Because you think you're going to die? You won't. I won't let you.” “Simon,” he says.

Stop calling me Simon. I'm going to cry.

“Are you having me on? Do you really not know who it is?” “No.”

“Are you trying to spare me...” “What?” “Nevermind. Not even Bunce could figure it out?” “I didn't show her.” “Then stop thinking about it.”

“I cant,” I say. Baz' whole face is tense.

“Just pretend this never happened. Treat me the same as before. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything.”

It does, though.

“It's not just your poem,” I say. “I just... I don't want us to be Romeo and Juliet.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” “You know what I mean. I don't – I don't want to hurt you.”

“These violent delights...”

I flinch. These violent delights have violent ends is a forbidden spell. When someone is fighting, it kills or heavily wounds both parties. Baz curls in on himself on his bed, but he keeps his gaze fixed on me. “I don't want to fight you. Are you going to fight me?” I ask.

He pauses and keeps looking at me.

“You really haven't figured it out, have you? Crowley, you're such a moron.” A moron? My breath hitches. No. What am I thinking? What the hell am I thinking?

“Who is it?” I say again. “Who's your downfall? Your rhyme? The bloody sun?” He closes his eyes, lips drawn together.

“Stop mocking me,” he rasps out.

“I'm not. Please. I just want to know.”

He opens his eyes a crack and sighs and I know that he's giving in. I'm holding my breath.

“It's you, you fucking numpty.”

I freeze. Everything freezes. I must have misheard. I must have a brain disease. It's impossible. (But I have blue eyes. And I guess my hair could be described as bronze. And if anyone's going to end Baz, it's me. Nobody's going to end Baz.)

“The snow that burns me...” he whispers. “It's your fucking name.”

Baz is not in love with someone else. Thank fuck. Thank Merlin. Thank Aleister fucking Crowley. I can't do anything but stare at him. Baz shakes his head.

“I never should have written that stupid sonnet. But... I couldn't help myself. It was Romeo and Juliet.”

I'm his Shakespearen tragedy. Nicks and slicks.

I sit up and am over on his bed in an instant. He looks alarmed.

“Snow – don't,” he says quietly. He's laid his heart in my palm. He's written a sonnet about me.

“Lets do this, then,” I whisper. I want to lean in and kiss him.

“Do what? What are you talking about?”

He looks like he wants to scoot away from me, but he doesn't move. I want to grab him by the shoulders and never let go.

“Today in class, all I could think about was you,” I say.

I want to let go of his shoulders to bury my hands in his hair.

“About how much you want to kill me?” he says, a self-deprecating tone in his voice.

“No. About how I don't want to kill you. Mostly about your hair.” “What about my hair?” He touches it self-consciously. I want to take every bad thought out of his brain and throw them to the merwolves.

“About how I want to touch your hair.” I lean closer.

“About how you're more beautiful than Romeo.” I carefully raise my hand. He doesn't move away. His hair is so soft.

“About how Juliet is a fool for being in love with a villain.” His eyes are so beautiful. He lets me take his hand.

“But he's not a villain,” I whisper. “Not really.” “Snow,” he says stiffly. “You do know – that Romeo and Juliet is a cautionary tale.”

“If it's really – if you're really – then I don't care. Is it really about me?” I lean in even closer until my nose nearly touches his. Does he want this? Do I want this? I do. So much. For how long have I wanted this?

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Of course it's you. Who else would it be?” “How? How can you -”

I want him to lean forward. I'm so short of grabbing him by his shirt. And then he gives me another one of these sighs, and I know that I have him. Just give me the word. Just give me the word, and you can have it all.

“How do I love thee?” he says and his hand comes up. My nose brushes against his. “Let me count the ways.” He runs his fingers through my hair. It's so good.

“I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach,” he says.

He's reciting poetry at me. Merlin.

“And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart,” he mutters. “I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart.” His lips are cool against mine. I press into him. I want him to have it all. I want to put my heart on a platter and let him take it.

“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair,” he says. It's like he's singing. “I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your  lovely body. I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.” Is that a vampire thing? I don't care, he can have it all. “Our love it was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we, of many far wiser than we,” he says. He's singing into my mouth. “And neither the angels in heaven above nor the demons down under the sea,” his breath goes heavy, “can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Simon Snow.”

His voice is enchanting. I grab him and pull. I want to tie our hearts together. Chamber by chamber.

“What's in a name?” he says. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

It's Romeo and Juliet.

“With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do, that dares love attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”

“Do you mean that?” “Yes. I mean it all. The Mage, his men, my family, no one can stop me. No spell can stop me. No sword.”

“You need to stop,” I say, but I'm smiling. “You're going to make me cry.”

That only spurs him on, of course. Baz has always loved making me cry.

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

I'm addicted to his lips, and to the smell of cedar and bergamot.

“Dost thou love me?” he says then and pulls back a little to look at me. There's a question in his eyes. And I don't know any poetry by heart. (But I want to give him everything.) I make a noise in the back of my throat and try to think of something stupidly romantic to say. He's reciting love poetry at me. He wrote me a sonnet. He's given me every love confession there is. How am I supposed to top that?

Baz' lips turn down at the corners.

“Sorry,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I got carried away. You don't need to answer.”

He goes in for another kiss, but I put my hands to his chest and push him away.

“Sorry,” he says again. “It's just part of the play. I forgot myself.” He swallows and looks down. If I took every single dark thought of his, the merwolves could have a feast. I grab his face and he looks back up at me. His heart is in my hands. He's so eloquent, he knows a thousand ways to say that he loves me. He loves me. He loves me. I can't believe I've never thought of this before. (Maybe I have.) It's the best idea ever.

I only have one word.

“Yes.” “What?

“Yes, I dost love thou.” He smiles.

“That is so not how it works,” he says.

“Then how?” “I can't remember,” he says and giggles. Aleister Crowley. He's my Romeo.

“Do we have to be a tragedy?” I say and pull him in again. “You think?” “No,” he says and laughs. It's the most beautiful sound. “We can be anything you want us to be. I could cast a sonnet right now.”

“You wrote one. You wrote me a sonnet. That's embarrassing.”

I laugh, too.

“Shut up,” he says. I'd cross every line for him. And I embrace him and his hair tickles my neck and I tell him to talk poetry to me and deep into the night he whispers sweet everythings into my ear. I'm a fool for him. I'll take him to the school dance. I'll put him in a costume. I'll keep him safe and sound. I'll hold his hand. I'll run my fingers through his hair.

I refuse to believe we're star-crossed lovers.

This time, I believe, the stars are aligning just right.