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pxnsneverland · 2 months ago

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Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 12)

(gif source: buckclevn)

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 4754

warnings/notes: I was so happy to recieve that anon message waiting for the next part of this story!! I'm so glad there are faithful readers :) Don't hesitate to send me more!

Chapter 12: Shadow Among the Roses

Violet paced restlessly in Austin's study, the ancient red tome clutched tightly in her hands. The night had fallen hours ago, yet Austin had not returned. Every creak of the manor made her heart leap with anticipation and dread. The knowledge she'd uncovered weighed on her like a physical burden—the Everly bloodline, its connection to vampires, the Crimson Heart. Had her entire presence in his home been orchestrated for this purpose?

When the study door finally swung open, Violet whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. Austin stood framed in the doorway, his tall figure silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. His usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled, and there was a weariness in his eyes that spoke of the day's trials.

"You're still awake," Austin observed, his voice low and tinged with concern. He stepped into the study, closing the door quietly behind him. His movements were weary, lacking their usual fluid grace.

Violet held up the small crimson book, her eyes never leaving his face. "I found what you wanted me to find," she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her efforts to remain composed. "Is it true? About my family?"

Austin's gaze lingered on the tome before meeting her eyes. The weight of centuries seemed to press upon his shoulders as he moved toward the fireplace, staring into the dying embers. "I had intended to be here when you discovered it," he admitted. "To explain properly."

"Then explain now," Violet demanded, her grip tightening on the book. "Am I merely a means to an end for you? A tool to locate this... this Crimson Heart?"

Austin turned to face her, his expression pained. "No, Violet. Never that."

"Then why?" she pressed, taking a step closer to him. "Why did you really bring me here? Was it because of my name? My blood?"

"I didn't know," Austin said quietly. "Not at first." He moved to his desk, retrieving a glass decanter and pouring himself a measure of dark liquid that Violet now recognized was not brandy. "When I first saw you, I was drawn to something in you that I couldn't explain. It was only later, when I learned your surname, that I began to suspect."

Violet watched him drink, the reality of what he was – what he needed to survive – no longer shocking but still unsettling. "And what exactly did you suspect?"

Austin set down his glass, moving closer to her with deliberate slowness, as if afraid she might flee. "The Everly bloodline was thought extinct for centuries. The last known member died in 1742 – or so we believed. Your ancestors must have gone into hiding, changed their name perhaps, only for your branch of the family to reclaim it generations later."

"But why would they hide?" Violet asked, confusion evident in her furrowed brow.

"Because," Austin said gravely, "the Everlys were hunted – by vampires seeking the power of their blood, and by The Order seeking to prevent vampires from obtaining that power."

Violet sank into a nearby chair, the implications overwhelming her. "So I am important because of my blood," she murmured, a bitter edge to her voice.

"To some, yes," Austin acknowledged, kneeling before her chair so their eyes were level. "But not to me, Violet."

"How can I believe that?" she whispered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Everything I've learned suggests I'm merely a pawn in some ancient game between vampires and hunters."

Austin's eyes softened as he reached for her hand, hesitating just before making contact. "If that were true, I would have taken your blood the night Phillip attacked you. I would have used you already." His voice was gentle yet firm with conviction. "Instead, I've protected you, taught you, given you the knowledge to understand the world you've unwittingly entered."

Violet searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but found only earnest concern in his gaze. The weight of his words settled over her like a warm blanket on a cold night.

"Then why show me this book? Why tell me about my bloodline at all?" she asked, her voice small but steady.

Austin stood and moved to the window, moonlight casting sharp shadows across his features. "Because you deserve the truth, however dangerous it might be. And because..." he paused, turning back to face her, "the danger to you exists whether you know of it or not. Your blood calls to my kind—it always has. I hoped that understanding would help you protect yourself."

"From vampires like Phillip?"

"And from The Order," Austin added gravely. "They've been more active in London recently. My sources tell me they're searching for something."

"The Crimson Heart," Violet whispered, remembering the text's description.

Austin nodded, his expression troubled. "They believe it can be used to eradicate all vampires. And they're not entirely wrong."

Violet rose from her chair, placing the ancient tome on the desk. "You knew all this when you brought me here, yet you risked it anyway. Why?"

The silence between them seemed to stretch forever, filled with unspoken truths and hidden feelings. Finally, Austin moved closer, close enough that she could feel the coolness radiating from his skin.

"Because in four centuries of existence, I have never met anyone like you," he confessed, his voice barely audible. "Your courage, your kindness despite the cruelty life has shown you. You awakened something in me I thought long dead."

Violet's breath caught in her throat as Austin gently took her hands in his. His touch was cool but no longer unsettling—it had become familiar, comforting even.

"I cannot offer you a normal life," he continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I cannot give you children or grow old beside you. But I can promise you my protection, my loyalty, and whatever passes for my heart."

Tears welled in Violet's eyes, not from fear or sadness, but from the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this world of yours," she admitted.

"You're stronger than you know," Austin murmured, his cool fingers gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. "But I would never ask you to bear this burden alone."

Violet leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly at the comfort it provided. When she opened them again, she met his gaze with newfound resolve. "Then teach me," she said firmly. "If I am to survive in this world between worlds, I need to understand it completely—not just the parts you deem safe for me to know."

A shadow of concern crossed Austin's features. "Some knowledge comes at a price, Violet."

"I'm willing to pay it," she replied without hesitation. "This is my life now, isn't it? My heritage, my blood—they've always been part of me, even when I didn't know it. I deserve to understand what that means."

Austin's expression softened with admiration. He nodded slowly, accepting her decision. "Very well. But we must proceed with caution. The Order has eyes everywhere, and Phillip Mormont will not be deterred by one failure."

He moved to his desk and unlocked a hidden drawer with a small key he kept on a chain around his neck. From within, he withdrew a leather-bound journal, its pages yellow with age and filled with handwritten notes in various languages.

"This is my personal account of everything I know about the Everly bloodline and the Crimson Heart," he explained, placing it carefully in her hands. "I've collected these observations over centuries—some from personal experience, others from sources both reliable and dubious. It's incomplete, but it's a start."

Violet accepted the journal with reverence, feeling the weight of history in her hands. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

"Trust goes both ways," Austin replied, his voice low and intimate. "Which is why I must tell you where I was today."

He guided her to a pair of chairs positioned before the fireplace, where the embers still glowed with faint warmth. As they sat, he stared into the dying fire, gathering his thoughts.

"I met with an old acquaintance—a vampire elder named Elara who has walked this earth for nearly a millennium. She confirmed what I had suspected: The Order is moving with purpose, gathering resources and allies for something significant."

"The Crimson Heart," Violet whispered.

"Yes. But there's more." Austin's expression grew grave. "They're not working alone. Someone from our side—a vampire of considerable influence—is aiding them, though their identity remains hidden."

Violet's mind immediately jumped to Phillip Mormont, remembering his predatory interest in her at the ball. "Could it be Phillip?"

Austin shook his head. "Phillip is many things—dangerous, unpredictable, cruel—but he would never ally himself with The Order. Their goals are fundamentally opposed to our continued existence."

"Then who?"

Austin's fingertips traced the edge of his glass as he considered her question. "That's what troubles me most. Few vampires possess the necessary influence or power to be valuable to The Order. Fewer still would betray their own kind."

Violet leaned forward, drawn into the mystery despite herself. "Perhaps they don't see it as betrayal. Maybe they believe they're working toward something greater."

A flicker of admiration crossed Austin's face. "Astute observation. The Crimson Heart is rumored to hold different powers for different bearers. In the hands of The Order, it could mean our extinction. But in the hands of a vampire..."

"Unlimited power," Violet finished softly.

"Or something else entirely." Austin rose and stoked the dying fire, sending a cascade of sparks up the chimney. "Some legends suggest it could remove our curse without ending our immortality—all the benefits of vampirism with none of the...limitations."

Violet watched him, his silhouette strong against the renewed flames. "And you've never been tempted by that possibility?"

Austin turned to her, his expression vulnerable in a way she rarely witnessed. "Of course I have. Four centuries of existing in shadows, of watching those I care for wither and die, of fighting a hunger that never truly abates..." He closed his eyes briefly. "The temptation is considerable."

"Yet you've never sought it out."

"Because power of that magnitude corrupts," he said, returning to sit beside her. "And because the price would be too high."

"What price?"

Austin's gaze was steady, unflinching. "According to the oldest texts, activating the Heart's full potential requires the willing sacrifice of an Everly—the last of their bloodline."

The revelation struck Violet like a physical blow. She felt the blood drain from her face as the implications became clear. "So if I am truly the last Everly..."

"Then you would be the sacrifice," Austin confirmed, his voice tight with emotion. "Which is why I have spent decades ensuring the Heart remained hidden, and why I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from those who seek it."

Violet's mind raced with this new information. The weight of her heritage, of her very existence, suddenly felt crushing. "How can you be certain I'm the last? There could be others—distant cousins, relatives who don't even know their true lineage."

"It's possible," Austin conceded. "The Everlys were once numerous. But The Order has been thorough in their hunt, and time has done the rest." He reached for her hand, his touch gentle yet grounding. "What matters now is keeping you safe while we learn more about the Heart and those who seek it."

A thought occurred to Violet, making her breath catch. "The ball—Phillip's attack—was he testing me? Confirming what I am?"

Austin's jaw tightened, his expression darkening as he considered her question. "I believe so. Your blood would have revealed your heritage to him immediately. The Everly bloodline has a... distinctive quality that any vampire would recognize upon tasting."

"Is that why you've never..." Violet trailed off, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"Yes," Austin admitted, his voice strained with the weight of his restraint. "Among other reasons."

Violet's hand trembled slightly in his. "And now Phillip knows what I am."

"Which makes our situation considerably more complex," Austin confirmed, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm in a gesture meant to comfort. "Phillip is impulsive but not foolish. He'll recognize the value you represent, both to vampires and to The Order."

"What will he do?" Violet asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Austin's eyes met hers, their blue depths reflecting the dancing flames from the fireplace. "He'll either try to use you himself or sell the information to the highest bidder. Either way, we must be prepared."

Rising from his chair with fluid grace, Austin moved to a cabinet on the far wall. He unlocked it with a small key from his waistcoat pocket and withdrew something wrapped in black velvet. Returning to Violet, he carefully unwrapped the object, revealing an ornate silver dagger with intricate engravings along its blade and a handle inlaid with deep blue lapis lazuli.

"This blade was forged by an Everly ancestor centuries ago," Austin explained, presenting it to her handle-first. "The silver is mixed with other elements that make it particularly effective against my kind. A cut from this will incapacitate even the oldest vampire long enough for you to escape."

Violet hesitantly took the dagger, feeling its surprising lightness and perfect balance. The handle seemed to warm to her touch, as though recognizing her bloodline. "You're giving me a weapon that could harm you?"

"I'm giving you the means to protect yourself," Austin corrected gently. "From any threat—including me, should the need ever arise."

The implication sent a chill down Violet's spine. "I would never use this against you."

"And I pray you'll never have cause to," Austin replied, his voice solemn. "But the hunger that drives my kind can sometimes overwhelm even the strongest will. I need to know you can defend yourself, Violet. It would destroy me to be the instrument of your harm."

Violet carefully rewrapped the dagger in its velvet cloth. "Thank you for your honesty," she said softly. "And for trusting me with this."

Austin's expression softened, the worry in his eyes giving way to something warmer. "Trust is rare in my world. Perhaps that's why I value it so highly when I find it."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the dangers surrounding them seemed to recede. The air between them charged with an unspoken intensity. Violet could feel her heart racing, the sound of its beating loud in her ears, a reminder of the fundamental difference between them. She wondered if Austin could hear it too—this thunderous rhythm that betrayed her emotions.

"You should rest," Austin said finally, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "Tomorrow we begin your education in earnest."

"Education?" Violet asked, her fingers still tracing the outline of the velvet-wrapped dagger.

Austin nodded, his expression serious yet tinged with warmth. "If you are to survive in this world you've been thrust into, you must understand its rules, its dangers, and how to navigate them. No more half-measures or partial truths."

"Will you teach me to defend myself as well?" Violet asked, surprising herself with her boldness.

A smile tugged at the corner of Austin's mouth. "Yes. Though I hope you'll never need to use such skills."

As Violet prepared to leave, Austin suddenly stilled, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something beyond human hearing. His posture tensed, shoulders squaring as his eyes darted to the window.

"What is it?" Violet whispered, instinctively clutching the dagger closer.

"Someone is on the grounds," Austin replied, his voice low and controlled. "Someone who doesn't belong here."

Moving with preternatural speed, he crossed to the window, peering out into the darkness. Violet followed more slowly, the hairs on the back of her neck rising with apprehension.

In the moonlit garden below, a shadowy figure darted between the hedgerows, moving with deliberate purpose toward the east wing of the manor.

"Stay here," Austin commanded, already heading for the door. "Lock it behind me."

"But—"

"Please, Violet," he insisted, his eyes softening briefly as they met hers. "I cannot focus on the threat if I'm worried about your safety."

Reluctantly, she nodded. Austin paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob. "If I don't return within the hour, there's a hidden passage behind the bookcase in your room. The third volume of Shakespeare's sonnets triggers the mechanism. It leads to a tunnel that will take you to the stables. Pembroke will know what to do."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him. Violet turned the key in the lock with trembling fingers, then returned to the window, straining to catch sight of either Austin or the intruder in the darkness below.

***

Minutes stretched like hours as she waited, clutching the silver dagger and watching the garden with unwavering attention. The moon slid behind a cloud, plunging the grounds into deeper darkness. When it emerged again, Violet gasped.

Two figures grappled at the edge of the formal garden, their movements too swift for human eyes to follow clearly. Austin and the intruder were locked in combat, their forms blurring with inhuman speed as they crashed through the carefully tended rosebushes. Even from this distance, Violet could see the glint of metal—a blade catching moonlight as it arced through the air. Austin dodged with fluid grace, but the attacker was skilled, matching his movements with practiced precision. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she pressed closer to the glass, desperate to see more clearly. The intruder wore dark clothing and a hood that obscured their features, but there was something familiar about their movements—calculated, trained, almost ritualistic.

As she watched, the attacker produced something from within their cloak—a small glass vial that glowed with an eerie blue light. They hurled it at Austin, who barely managed to evade it. The vial shattered against a stone bench, releasing a cloud of luminescent vapor that seemed to cling to the air. Austin stumbled back from the cloud, his movements suddenly less fluid, as if the very air had thickened around him. The attacker pressed their advantage, driving Austin toward the edge of the garden where the shadows were deepest. Violet's fingers tightened around the silver dagger. She had promised to stay here, to remain safe—but how could she hide while Austin fought for both their lives? Decision made, she unlocked the study door and slipped into the corridor, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand.

The manor was eerily silent as she made her way through it, servants either asleep or wisely staying out of sight. She knew the quickest route to the garden—through the conservatory with its wall of glass doors that opened onto the terrace. As she hurried through the dimly lit rooms, a floorboard creaked beneath her foot. Violet froze, listening intently for any sign she'd been heard. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant sounds of the struggle outside. She pressed on, moving more carefully now.

The conservatory was bathed in moonlight, the exotic plants casting strange, twisted shadows across the floor. Through the glass doors, Violet could see the garden more clearly. Austin was on the defensive, moving with less of his usual grace. Whatever had been in that vial had affected him, slowing his reactions. She slipped through the doors onto the terrace, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her skin. From here, she could hear the combat—grunts of exertion, the whistle of a blade cutting through air, the impact of blows that would have killed a human.

"Your protection of the girl is admirable, vampire," the attacker called, voice muffled by a mask but unmistakably male.

"But ultimately futile," the attacker added, drawing a second blade from beneath his cloak.

Austin's face contorted with rage. "You will not touch her," he snarled, his voice deeper than Violet had ever heard it—almost unrecognizable.

The attacker lunged forward with both blades, his movements precise and deadly. "The Order has decreed her fate. The last Everly must fulfill her purpose."

Something in Austin snapped. Violet watched in horror as his entire demeanor transformed. His elegant, controlled movements gave way to something primal and vicious. His eyes, normally a striking blue, blazed with an unholy crimson light that cut through the darkness. His lips pulled back in a feral snarl, revealing fangs that seemed to elongate before her eyes. With a roar that sounded more beast than man, Austin moved with blinding speed. He caught the attacker's wrist mid-strike, and the sickening crack of breaking bone echoed across the garden. The man screamed, but the sound was cut short as Austin's hand clamped around his throat.

"You dare?" Austin growled, his voice guttural and distorted. "You dare threaten what is mine?"

Violet pressed a hand to her mouth, frozen in place as the scene unfolded. This was not the Austin she knew—the refined, controlled immortal who spoke of poetry and played piano with delicate grace. This was something ancient and terrible, a predator unleashed. The attacker struggled, kicking and slashing with his remaining blade, but Austin seemed beyond feeling pain. With one fluid movement, he tore the mask away, revealing a young man with ritual scars marking his face.

"We are... legion," the young man gasped, still struggling despite his crushed windpipe. "Kill me... and ten more... will come."

Austin's lips curled into a terrible smile. "Then I shall start with you."

What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Austin's hand plunged into the man's chest with horrifying ease, tearing through fabric, flesh, and bone. Blood sprayed across the garden path, black in the moonlight. The attacker's eyes widened in shock and agony as Austin withdrew his hand, clutching something dark and pulsing.

Rook's heart.

Violet's scream died in her throat as Austin crushed the organ in his fist, blood seeping between his fingers like crimson wine. The attacker's body convulsed once before going limp, eyes fixed in an eternal stare of horror. Austin stood motionless, blood dripping from his hand, his chest heaving with unnecessary breath. As Violet stared at the gruesome scene unfolding before her, her legs finally unlocked from their frozen state. She stumbled backward, her foot catching on the edge of a decorative stone, sending her tumbling to the ground with a soft cry. The sound, though barely audible to human ears, caught Austin's attention immediately.

His head snapped toward her, blood still dripping from his clenched fist, his face transformed into something barely recognizable. Those crimson eyes, burning with primal rage, fixed on her with an intensity that stole her breath. For an eternal moment, Violet saw nothing of the man she had come to care for—only the predator that lurked beneath his carefully maintained facade.

"Austin?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she scrambled backward, the silver dagger clutched in her shaking hand.

The sound of his name seemed to pierce through the bloodlust that had consumed him. Austin blinked, the crimson glow in his eyes flickering like a candle caught in a draft. Horror dawned across his features as awareness returned, his gaze moving from Violet's terrified face to the mutilated corpse at his feet, to his own blood-soaked hand.

"Violet," he breathed, his voice hoarse and broken. "You shouldn't... you weren't supposed to see..."

He took a halting step toward her, then stopped as he registered the fear in her eyes, the defensive posture, the way she gripped the silver dagger he had given her. Understanding crashed over him like a wave of ice water. She had seen everything—the savagery, the inhuman strength, the monstrous rage he had spent centuries learning to control, all unleashed in one moment of blind fury.

"Please," he whispered, extending a hand toward her before noticing it was still coated in gore. He quickly withdrew it, wiping it against his ruined jacket with shaking movements. "Violet…”

A cool breeze swept through the garden, carrying the metallic scent of blood toward her. Violet's stomach churned as reality crashed over her in merciless waves. The silver dagger felt impossibly heavy in her hand.

"You tore out his heart," she managed, each word a struggle against her constricting throat.

Austin's gaze dropped to the mutilated corpse at his feet. "He came for you. He would have taken you to The Order to be sacrificed." His voice hardened slightly. "I would destroy a thousand hearts to keep you safe."

The raw conviction in his words stole what little breath remained in Violet's lungs. Despite the horror of what she'd witnessed, something deep within her recognized the terrible truth in his declaration. The man before her—blood-soaked and monstrous as he appeared—had killed to protect her. Would kill again without hesitation.

"I understand what you did," she whispered, slowly lowering the dagger to her side, though not relinquishing her grip entirely. "But seeing you like this..."

Austin remained perfectly still, as if afraid the slightest movement might shatter the fragile moment between them. In the moonlight, his face was a study in ancient sorrow.

"This is what I am, Violet," he said, his voice hollow with resignation. "I've tried to shield you from it, to present a more... palatable version of myself. But the monster you saw tonight has always existed beneath the surface."

Violet took a tentative step forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Is that why you've never..." She couldn't finish the question, but Austin understood.

"Why I've never fed from you?" A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Yes. The taste of your blood would be... intoxicating. Perhaps too much so. I feared losing control."

"Like tonight," she whispered.

"Worse," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground between them. "Much worse."

Silence stretched between them, filled only with the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The corpse at Austin's feet was a stark reminder of the violence his kind was capable of—violence he had unleashed without hesitation

"What do we do?" Violet asked, straightening her spine with newfound resolve.

Austin's eyes widened slightly, surprise evident in his features. "You're still willing to stay with me? After what you've seen?"

Violet glanced at the body, then back to Austin's blood-stained figure. "I'm afraid," she admitted honestly. "But I'd be a fool to think I'd be safer without you."

Austin's expression softened, relief washing over his features like dawn breaking after the longest night. “I will wake Pembrooke. He will know what do with the clean up.” Austin knelt beside the corpse, examining something on the man's wrist—a small tattoo of a flame encircled by thorns. "Brother Rook was ambitious but inexperienced. His superiors will likely assume he acted alone, driven by eagerness to prove himself. We will be safe from further attacks here for now. However, I will double the security measures.”

Violet watched as Austin methodically searched the dead man's clothing, retrieving several small vials similar to the one that had been thrown earlier.

"What are those?" she asked, cautiously moving closer.

"Weapons designed specifically against my kind," Austin replied, carefully collecting the vials. "This one," he indicated a vial filled with clear liquid, "contains distilled sunlight—capable of burning vampire flesh on contact. This," he held up another with amber contents, "paralyzes us temporarily." He pocketed the items and rose to his feet. “We should head back inside. I hate to wake the servants, but I need a bath and some clean garments.”

"I can call for Beth to prepare a bath for you," Violet said softly, her eyes meeting his. She hesitated, her heart racing with a boldness she hadn't known she possessed. A strange warmth spread through her chest as she looked at him—this powerful being who had unleashed such violence to protect her.

"Actually," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "perhaps I could... help you." Her cheeks flushed crimson as the words left her lips. "To wash away the blood, I mean. As a small token of my gratitude for what you've done tonight."

Austin stared at her, momentarily stunned by her offer. His eyes, now returned to their natural blue, widened slightly. "Violet, you don't need to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, her voice stronger despite the nervous trembling of her hands. "Please, Austin."

He studied her face, searching for any sign of reluctance or fear. Finding only determination beneath her obvious nervousness, he nodded slowly. "Very well."

Stay tuned for part 13!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @imusicaddict

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wormthing · 11 months ago

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Taking commissions for some Animal Jam items:

I've been playing Animal Jam Classic lately, and drawing in their Art Studio, and I cobbled together a wish list of random items I want. I'll draw a piece of art for you for some of those items; it doesn't specifically have to be for an in-game Masterpiece item. Check below the Read More for the list of items I'm looking for.

(And of course my commissions for $ USD are always open still!)

Please trade me at least one item off the list below in exchange for a piece of art.

Please message me about your proposed commission and what items you'd like to trade! Let me know if you want this drawn as a Masterpiece item, or if you just want a regular image file in exchange, probably done in MS Paint in a similar style above.

Give me a few days to get the drawing done!

If you want me to draw your avatar, I am not going to draw culturally insensitive items. I'll let you know if I have an issue with your proposition.

I can take payment when the art done/approved and we can trade, but I can also do half-payment up front.

If you want a Masterpiece item:

A Masterpiece Token included in the trade is appreciated, but not required. (Especially if I don't currently have membership.)

Give the art time to be approved. If it isn't, I'll see if we can work something out.

Please keep complexity down, especially in regards to colour schemes.

Click below for my wish list! Items I already have have been moved to a list at the end. I'll update it as I see things that catch my eye.

Check out the Animal Jam Wiki (link) to look up these items (or other related pages). (I also said what event they were from if applicable.)

Den items:

Mira Tapestry (2017 Mira v Zios event)

Glowing Spiked Phantom (2019 box prize)

Clothing:

Phantom Beanie (2017 Fall box prize)

Slime Green skullies (2022 trick-or-treat event)

Cursed Hypno glasses (2021 spooky sale)

Huntress hat (this is the only members item here)

Low priority:

Any other* promotional plushies (for non-members)! I love them ::-) [*Note: I now have: Rare giant panda, Rare giant raccoon, Rare monkey, Rare penguin, Rare koala]

Any Slime Green clothes (for non-members)

Non-member Halloween masks from 2022 (Classic Vampire Mask, Wicked Witch Mask)

My Den has other art I've done, some of which is from 2024 but some is from 2017! My username is 113457.

Items that were previously here, but are no longer needed:

Painter's Palette ("Let creativity fly" collection)

Fancy Pottery Wheel (same)

Cosmo plushie (2023 scavenger hunt)

Peck plushie (same)

Rare Wavy Bookshelf (2013 rare item monday)

Rare Giant Panda Plushie (promotional)

Rare Giant Tiger plushie (Lunar new year prize)

Art Camp Bead Station (2021 Art Camp collection)

Mira Banner (2017 MvZ event, not to be confused with the Beta mira banner)

Rare Hypno Glasses

Classic Werewolf mask (2022 spooky sale)

Classic Creature mask (same)

A green spiked collar for non-members

Spooky Mech Angel Wings

#animal jam #jamblr #animal jam classic #ajc #commissions #art commissions #animal jam commissions #masterpiece commissions #fortis arbor's art #image described #wolf character belongs to my friend dog ::-)#i also have just a bunch of random items from over the years so if ur interested in trading normal-style let me know.

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starwrittenfates · 2 months ago

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Starter Call For Lara Dorren!

Let me know if you want a specific verse of hers otherwise it will be her main one! These are all flexible and adaptable to fit with writing partners. Just message me about them!

VERSE ;; The Tragedy of the Elder Blood (The Witcher) — Her main verse following the books and games.

VERSE ;; Legends Never Die (The Witcher AU) — Lara and Cregennan were hunted down by humans for their relationship. Cregennan died protecting her in order to give her time to escape. Lara managed to survive, but started going into labor soon after. With no other choices in where to go and in shock from all that had just happened, Lara looks for help from her good friend, Queen Cerro. After Lara manages to safely give birth to a healthy daughter and names her Riannon, she makes the hardest decision of her life, having Cerro adopt Riannon so she could live a normal human life and not be hunted down. Although the world thinks Lara Dorren died, she is in fact, very much alive. Now on her own in the world, Lara goes into hiding, hearing the tales of her fate from both humans and elves. However, after everything she’s been through, she’s determined to take the reins of fate and destiny and write herself a better story.

VERSE ;; Princess of the Higher Vampire's (The Witcher AU/Vampire!Lara) — A verse in which Lara is a Higher Vampire.

VERSE ;; Vengeance of the Elder Blood (The Witcher AU/Wraith!Lara) —Sometimes witchers must put to rest ghosts who haunt the living. Wraiths appear near cemeteries or in homes they inhabited during their lives. They usually have no memories and are guided strictly by hatred towards the living. May they rest in peace. Wraiths suffer endless, indescribable pain. Filled with anger and a sense of having been wronged, they both envy the living and brim with overwhelming hatred for them. The same can be said for Lara Dorren, who was wronged, having been killed and lost everything to humans because of her relationship with Cregennan. Not long after, her daughter dies of heartbreak and the tragedy that befalls all her descendants doesn’t help. Lara’s soul cannot rest until she gets the vengeance she craves.

VERSE ;; Thrown Into the Inquisition (Dragon Age) — Traveling from the world of the Aen Elle Elves, something goes wrong and the Princess of the Alders ends up trapped in another world entirely. Stumbling across a world like the Aen Seidhe where elves are being hunted and treated a certain way by humans, Lara finds herself accidentally getting into something much bigger, resulting in her gaining a mark upon her hand and being forced to become a part of this world as an Inquisitor. Thinking of the mark, also called an anchor, as being nothing more than her Elder Blood trying to manifest its abilities, Lara will finally have to face her destiny and make a choice. Either way, she has fallen into a wolf’s den with no escape.

VERSE ;; The Wild Magic Sorceress (Baldur's Gate 3) — Lara Dorren is a Wild Magic elven sorceress born from a family and bloodline of powerful elven sorcerers versed in Wild Magic. These Sorcerers are capable of using the chaos of their magic to unleash various unexpected effects that can be helpful or chaotic. While out traveling one day, she is abducted by Mindflayers, having a tadpole inserted into her brain. Despite it, the elven mage manages to escape, finding others like her and leading a mission to find a cure for their affliction.

VERSE ;; The Mafia Princess (Mafia AU) — It's literally what the label says. I'll write more about this one later. Still a WIP, but putting it out there anyway.

#starter calls ;;#// I didn't finish making moodboards for them all so....I'm a bit behind on that one.#// her verses can also be found on her bio

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astarionfreak · 1 year ago

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Exile (Or: How you learned to stay) | Ch. 8 - Shadowheart: Hanging

// Ascended Astarion x Reader (Fem!Durge) + Shadowheart x Reader (Fem!Durge)

Shadowheart returns to Astarion's palace with Gale and Minthara. Things go about as well as you'd expect.

18+ • NSFW • 3.7K words (8/?) | Read on AO3 (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - Check tags for warnings)

You steel your nerves as you approach Astarion’s palace. A potion bottle is pressed tight to your chest. You keep it against your skin so you can feel it, so you know you have it. It’s the critical first half of a plan that could give her an advantage.

The potion has to work. You can’t fail her. You won’t fail. If you don’t get this right, all is lost.

You glance over at Gale. He’s facing forward, not looking at you. What is going through his mind? He’s been quiet since you started your journey here.

The sun shines brightly in the sky, a striking contrast to the first time you came. Back then, it was so dark. There was only a sliver of the moon in the sky to light your path. Perhaps that was a warning.

You were on a mission to rescue Astarion then. Now, you’re fighting to undo the mistakes of that night.

The spawn come in the dead of night. You were sleeping. You wake to a fight. You fail. They take him.

They take Astarion.

She gathers her things, holding back angry tears as she pulls on her gear. Blood drips down into her eye from a deep gash on her forehead. “They took him. They took him and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop them. I failed — I failed him,” she says.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper. “We were all here. This does not rest on your shoulders alone.”

The rage on her face is unmistakable, there’s a tremble in her voice when she tells you to get dressed. Her breath comes in rapid-fire bursts. She’s not thinking clearly.

“Just breathe, love. We’ll get him,” you say, trying to find your conviction. You reach for her, but she pulls away. Your heart sinks. She won’t let you touch her. She won’t let you comfort her.

You begin to whisper a healing spell.

“Save your magic. We’ll need it,” her voice is flat and distant.

She won’t let you heal her.

“Let me do this, please,” you say.

“No.” She sheaths her daggers and slings a light crossbow over her back. “I’m not worth it.”

“A potion, then. I am not foolish enough to set foot in a vampire den with someone who is actively bleeding,” you say.

She grunts something that you accept as a begrudging ‘okay, fine.’ You reach into your pack and find a small healing potion. You take her wrist and press the bottle into her hand. For a moment, it’s as though she comes back to you.

Her eyes soften. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Shadowheart. He wasn’t ever supposed to go back to that place.”

“I know,” you say. “He’s going to be okay.”

“We were going to handle this without him.” She curls her fingers around the potion bottle but doesn’t pull her hand away from yours.

Your thumb moves in small circles around her wrist. An attempt to comfort her. “I know.”

She stares at you with wide eyes, her chest heaving with each breath. Her lips are softly parted.

You wish to pull her into your arms, to comfort her in the only way you know how. But she is not yours to hold. Not anymore. When all this is over, Cazador, the cult, the brain — maybe you can win her back.

“He’s going to want to ascend,” she whispers. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop him.”

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Bonus oneshot: Palisade afternoon

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #ascended astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #af.op

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jxrm · 10 months ago

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book log - 2022

his last wife by gia pere

a very merry bromance by lyssa kay adams

behind the messages by ella-may williams

the wife upstairs by rachel hawkins

pride, prejudice, & turkish delight by k.c. mccormick ciftci

the long way to a small, angry planet by becky chambers

honeymoon for one by rachel bowdier

let it snow by beth moran

resting scrooge face by meghan quinn

window shopping by tessa bailey

the family upstairs by lisa jewell

poster girl by veronica roth

x by sue grafton

queen bee by nina manning

the vibrant years by sonali dev

untamed by glennon doyle

book lovers by emily henry

the zookeeper's wife by diane ackerman

daisy darker by alice feeney

mating in captivity by esther perel

miss meteor by tehlor kay mejia

carrie soto is back by taylor jenkins reid

a good girl's guide to murder by holly jackson

the lesbiana's guide to catholic school by sonora reyes

fat chance, charlie vega by crystal maldonado

lakelore by anne-marie mclemore

you love me by caroline kepnes

happiness for beginners by katherine center

not my daughter by barbara delinsky

last tang standing by lauren ho

no filter and other lies by crystal maldonado

the southern book club's guide to slaying vampires by grady hendrix

does my body offend you? by mayra cuevas

i'm the girl by courtney summers

the expatriates by janice y.k. lee

emily, gone by bette lee crosby

after hours on milagro street by angelina m. lopez

i'm glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy

my best friend's exorcism by grady hendrix

#murderfunding by gretchen mcneil

looking for jane by heather marshall

midwife murders by james patterson

final cut by s.j. watson

darling rose gold by stephanie wrobel

all the pretty people by barbara freethy

when i was you by minka kent

been there, married that by gigi levangie

malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid

covery story by susan rigetti

the paris apartment by lucy foley

stiletto sisterhood by fallon demornay

her perfect secret by t.j. brearton

take a chance on me by beth moran

the watcher girl by minka kent

no conscience by phil m. williams

reminders of him by colleen hoover

her last move by john marrs

we were dreamers by simu liu

the book of cold cases by simone st. james

all i stole from you by ava bellows

violeta by isabel allende

once of us is next - karen m. mcmanus

just the way you are by beth moran

the latecomer by jean hanff jorelitz

klara and the sun by kazuo ishiguro

the sorority murder by allison brennan

one italian summer by rebecca serle

what lies between us by john marrs

the maid by nita prose

sex and vanity by kevin kwan

funny you should ask by elissa sussman

the seven day switch by kelly harms

three perfect liars by heidi perks

everything must go by camille pagan

no ex before marriage by portia macintosh

the other mother by carol goodman

california girls by susan mallery

one little secret by cate holahan

apples never fall by liane moriarty

the promise by teresa driscoll

ghost boy by martin pistorius

close to you by ana jolene

oona out of order by margarita montimore

the stepson by jane renshaw

all adults here by emma straub

his & hers by alice feeney

mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia

anatomy by dana schwartz

the resting place by camilla sten

will by will smith

good me, bad me by ali land

while we were dating by jasmine guillory

the lion's den by katherine st. john

when we left cuba by chanel cleeton

left neglected by lisa genova

the suspect by fiona barton

park avenue summer by renee rosen

group therapy by b.b. easton

the half sister by sandie jones

shipped by angie hockman

when we were sisters by emilie richards

the chain by adrian mckintu

not a happy family by shari lapena

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

if the shoe fits by julie murphy

the girlfriend by michelle frances

let me hear a rhyme by tiffany d. jackson

death by dumpling by vivien chien

yoga pant nation by laurie gelman

the cousins by karen m. mcmanus

in a holidaze by christina lauren

people we meet on vacation by emily henry

the candy house by jennifer egan

you've been volunteered by laurie gelman

broken by jenny lawson

you can't be serious by kal penn

the final girl support group by grady hendrix

home before dark by riley sager

one of us is lying by kate m. mcmanus

the vanishing half by brit bennett

the cross and the switchblade by david wilkerson

the henna wars by adiba jaigridar

the fashion orphans by randy susan meyers

the good girl by mary kubica

the comeback by ella berman

the magician's nephew by c.s. lewis

the bright lands by john fram

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vampirelover890 · 1 year ago

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To Hunt a Vampire (1/17)

Hunt Log #1

Day 1:

As of today, I shall start recording my daily achievements in the hunt for the Count or Countess, I’m not quite sure, actually, but what I do know is that New Wallachia, Massachusetts, is no longer safe. It all started last when my granpappy called me over during a family reunion, and gifted me his old slayer whip, made of pure holy silver and waxed in garlic oil. He handed me his prized treasure and leaned over to whisper in my ear,

“Run.”

And so I did. I ran and ran, across the Massachusetts border, and straight to New Wallachia, but they’ve found me again. Don’t know how or when, but they’re here, I can feel it. So I began to hunt and slay. Or atleast I would have if I wasn’t in prison for running the border.

Anyways now I’m out and the hunt is on. Today I investigated my neighbors house, as I could feel evil and malcontent seeping from their walls. From the roof of my house I made a leap over the fence that protects her metaphorical palace, after which I made my way into the kitchen. There was shattered glass on the ground. Clearly her prey had struggled earlier. Further I’d travelled into the demon’s den, and more disturbing imagery I’d found. Magical apparatuses that broadcast seemingly satanic messages from the Nefarious Possession Report (what I assume NPR stands for) and finally, I stumble upon the bedroom. There before me stands a robed figure looking at me. She has decided to confront me. And so it was.

When all was said and done. She wasn’t the one. Oh well… it’s all for the greater good. The Count and/or Countess will fall to my hands.

#vampire #short story #journal #story #writing #THaV

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gazrgaley · 2 years ago

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C.R.O.W (chapter 16)

Victoria leaned against the cold, rough wall, her back pressed firmly against its surface. Ashley stood by her side, their bodies tense and hearts racing. The air was heavy with a sense of impending danger as they awaited Rex's signal, knowing that he and Justin were positioned somewhere on the opposite side of the building. This was new for all of them. They had never attempted to take out a nest when they knew humans would be present.

For this Victoria was grateful Grendel and Milo wasn't there on time that night. They had proven themselves strong. But Rex was right, Grendel was a loose canon and was unpredictable. The humans may have put themself in this situation, but that didn't mean they should die for it.

The night had quickly descended upon them. Making this mission out of the ordinary for another reason. This granted the vampires an extra measure of strength. However, the hunters took solace in the fact that the bloodsuckers were preoccupied within the building. Unlike the previous nest they had eliminated, caution was imperative this time.

They needed to ensure they didn't inadvertently harm any humans, even though these individuals willingly participated in the grotesque act of allowing vampires to feed from them. Victoria couldn't help but shudder at the thought of these humans, willingly placing their lives in such perilous danger. The place was reminiscent of an opioid den and a brothel.

Most of the people where half naked and high. Lounging around, oblivious to anything around them. This made it particularly hard to have any empathy for the willing participants. But this was a fight against the vampires, and regardless of how foolish they were. At the end of the day they were still humans.

Her focus sharpened, Victoria eagerly awaited the signal from Rex, her gaze fixed on her phone. A silent text message arrived, causing a surge of adrenaline to course through her veins. It was time to make their move. Victoria and Ashley swiftly swarmed into the room from one side, while Rex and Justin advanced from the other, effectively blocking all escape routes.

Armed with the new weapons provided by Miller, this raid felt entirely different. For the first time, they were executing their plan in the presence of humans, no matter how morally reprehensible they might have been.

The hunters unleashed a barrage of water projectiles, the modified water guns in Ashley and Justin's hands far more sophisticated and expensive than the ones typically found at children's birthday parties. The room erupted with the splattering sound of water hitting flesh as they soaked everyone in sight. Rex and Victoria were responsible for delivering the lethal blows, shooting anyone who started to smoke from the water. It was an unsettling sight, even more disturbing than anything Victoria had witnessed before, as screams echoed from the humans throughout the room and chaos ensued.

Just when Victoria thought they had the situation under control. Several humans, realizing that the hunters' weapons were nothing more than harmless water, launched themselves at Ashley and Justin, overpowering them. In the midst of the ensuing confusion, a few vampires managed to escape, slipping away into the night.

Casting a quick glance around the room, Victoria noticed that the majority of those left behind were human. Determined not to let any more vampires flee, she took it upon herself to pursue them.

As Victoria sprinted through the dimly lit alley, her heart pounding in her chest, she unexpectedly collided with Grendel. For a few seconds Grendel's firm grip held her in place as she tried to regain her bearings. With a swift glance around, she scanned the surroundings, searching for any trace of the escaping vampires.

"You're late," Victoria mustered, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and reproach. As her eyes met the gaze of one of the vampires, she noticed him freeze at the end of the alley, his eyes locked not on her but on Grendel. Confusion washed over her. Why wasn't he fleeing like the others? Before she could process the situation, she saw the look the vampire was giving Grendel, a mix of spite and rage.

In that fleeting moment, Grendel's eyes darkened, a seething hatred emanating from him with an intensity she had never witnessed before. A surge of concern coursed through Victoria, prompting her to open her mouth to question him. However, before she could utter a word, Grendel turned towards her, his face adorned with a disarming smile.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Grendel said, his voice laced with an air of nonchalance. "Looks like you had already begun the fun without us."

Releasing his grip on her, Grendel let Victoria go, allowing her to regain her balance. As Milo approached the two of them, a sense of relief washed over Victoria. Despite the lingering questions in her mind, the presence of the two of them provided a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos unfolding around them. Any escaping vampires wouldn't have a chance with the three of them.

"Is the guy with the weird gloves with you?" Milo asked as he approached the two.

"Gloves?" Victoria asked, her voice tinged with confusion. The rest of their group remained inside the building. Who was he talking about?

In a sudden and shocking turn of events, Miller emerged from the shadows, pushing Milo aside with an urgency that pierced the tense silence. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between himself and Grendel, his intentions masked by a grim determination. Before Victoria could process what was happening, a sickening crunch of bones shattered the air, sending a shiver down her spine.

Miller now loomed over Grendel, his face contorted with a mixture of anguish and determination. Echoes of a ripping sound reverberated through the alleyway as Miller's hand, encased in the industrial-strength gauntlet, plunged mercilessly into Grendel's chest. The scene played out in a nightmarish tableau, each second stretching into an eternity.

Wet gurgling sounds escaped Grendel's lips as he attempted to pull away from Miller, his body instinctively rejecting the intrusion. But all resistance was futile. In an instant, Grendel's hands dropped limply to his sides, and a lifeless gaze consumed his eyes. Miller withdrew his hand, revealing a mass of bloody tissue clutched within his grip, Grendel's heart.

Victoria's heart pounded in her chest, disbelief and sorrow coursing through her veins. What had just happened? Why was Miller here? and why had he taken Grendel's heart? She was left with all questions an no answers, leaving her paralyzed.

Before Victoria could utter a word, Miller was propelled backward, crashing into the wall with an incredible force that shook the surroundings. The impact dislodged the lamp above, causing it to sway and casting eerie shadows amidst the crackling tension. It was as if an unseen force had thrown Miller back, leaving everyone bewildered.

But her attention swiftly shifted to Milo, who stood over Miller with an air of raw power and dominance. His hand clenched tightly around Miller's throat, his other hand pinning Miller's free hand against the wall. A surge of dark energy emanated from the pair, enveloping them in an ominous aura.

"Give it back!" Milo's voice reverberated with an intensity and fury that surpassed anything she had ever seen from him before. Victoria felt a chill crawl up her spine, witnessing a side of Milo she had never imagined existed. His anger seemed to radiate from deep within, fueled by an insatiable desire to reclaim what was taken.

Miller, despite his disadvantaged position, wore a twisted smile, seemingly reveling in the unfolding chaos. His eyes met Milo's, a gleam of fascination and amusement dancing within them. "Now, isn't that something? You're something new, aren't you?" Miller's voice dripped with sinister delight, his words hinting at a deeper understanding of Milo's true nature.

In response, Milo pulled his head back before forcefully slamming it against the wall, an act of brutal determination. "I said give it back!" His words echoed with a mix of desperation and unyielding resolve. Victoria strained to observe their confrontation, but the encroaching darkness, like an ethereal fog, swallowed both combatants, obscuring their figures from her sight.

The mysterious darkness intensified, shrouding the alley in an atmosphere of foreboding. Victoria stood frozen. The clash between Milo and Miller had transcended the physical realm, delving into something far more enigmatic and dangerous.

As the ephemeral fog dissipated, revealing the aftermath of the intense confrontation, Miller lay sprawled on the ground, subdued and defeated. Meanwhile, Milo, carrying an air of solemn determination, made his way back to Grendel's lifeless form, cradling the precious heart delicately in his hands.

In the midst of everything that was going on, Rex, Ashley, and Justin emerged from the building, watched on with disbelief, frozen in shock.

Milo crouched down beside Grendel's motionless body, his touch gentle yet unwavering. With great care, he eased Grendel's heart back into the cavity that remained, aligning it precisely. As Milo withdrew his hand, a profound transformation began to unfold. Tremors coursed through Grendel's revived form, his body responding to the reunion with his heart. Milo held him close, supporting his head as he choked up blood.

Victoria, observing the scene unfold, felt a profound sense of realization wash over her. She had known that Milo and Grendel shared a deep bond, but witnessing this extraordinary display chilled her. At that moment she knew neither of them could have been human. But for the briefest of seconds, none of that mattered.

In that moment, the complexities of their mission and the secrets they harbored seemed insignificant. The bond between Milo and Grendel transcended the boundaries of anything she had ever seen, their connection etched with a depth of emotion that moved Victoria to her core.

As Grendel's consciousness gradually resurfaced from the depths of uncertainty, his survival instincts propelled him to seek solace in the presence of Milo. Gasping for air, he reached out, his trembling hand yearning for the reassurance of his companion's touch.

Milo held him close, enveloping him in an embrace of unwavering support. With one arm wrapped protectively around Grendel's trembling form, Milo pressed their foreheads together, their heads nestled intimately against each other. In this tender moment, their shared bond became a lifeline.

However, the tranquility was abruptly shattered as Miller made his move. Swiftly approaching Milo from behind, he seized him by the head, forcefully tearing him away from Grendel's grasp. Before Milo could react, a sharp pain pierced his neck as Miller injected a syringe into his flesh. Within seconds, Milo succumbed, his body succumbing to the immobilizing effects of the injected substance.

Grendel, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, managed to regain his strength, pulling himself up. As he reached out, an unexpected projection emerged from his hand. In the same instant, a spark ignited from the street lamp above them, casting a haunting shadow over Miller.

Miller, undeterred by the unfolding chaos, seized Grendel's arm with a vise-like grip, deliberately contorting it in a grotesque manner, causing his elbow to bend in a direction nature had never intended. Grendel howled in pain, his features twisted in anguish.

Unrelenting in his assault, Miller then seized Grendel by his hair, asserting control over his battered form. With a callous disregard for his well-being, Miller plunged a second syringe into Grendel's vulnerable neck, injecting the unknown substance into his bloodstream.

#vampires #writing #wattpad #vampire #gaz042 #chapter 16 #crow #C.R.O.W #gothic stories #vampire writing #warm blooded vampires series

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cinberella · 2 years ago

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DEVIL IN DISGUISE

Artist: @skylar102

Rating: M

Pairing: Malec

Word Count: 48.500

This fic was created for the Mini Bang 2023 presented by the @malecdiscordserver

CHAPTER 6/7 Unleashed

"God, Magnus, what have you done?"

The Vampire’s voice holds stupor and dismay in it as if he could not believe his eyes. Truthfully, the scene before him is nothing less than horrifying. It reminds him of what he found inside a rogue vampire’s den a while ago. It was macabre. And Raphael is pretty used to dealing with blood, isn’t he? But so much of it? From just one man? He is frozen on his spot, disturbingly aware that the blood, on the floor and all over the walls as well, belongs to one of his friends.

"What I had to."

Magnus answers him, his burning eyes glowing with a feral amber light.

"Did you torture him? Angels above, Magnus… Meliorn has always been one of us, how could you…”

Raphael can hear the horribly beaten man’s slow heartbeat, so he knows he is still alive. For now, at least. Magnus looks different, though. He has never looked more like a Prince of Hell than now.

“Meliorn is hiding something from us. I know the Queen is involved in this mess, and he will tell me where that fucking Sword is. Unless his loyalty to the Queen is worth losing his life.”

“I didn't think you would go this far... The Queen won't forgive you so easily if you kill him."

Magnus rolls his liquid golden eyes, snorting. As if he cared about the Queen; though, he cares about his dear Vampire’s feelings. Raphael may be difficult to deal with but he has always been a loyal friend and a fair man.

"Look, Raphael, I didn’t have fun doing this, ok? Ragnor here can confirm that I tried to reason with him at first.”

“He did.” Ragnor confirms, calmly, sitting comfortably in an armchair on the other side of the room, unbothered, looking carelessly at the Seelie man chained to the ceiling by his arms stretched upward as if he meant nothing to him, as if his life meant nothing.

Meliorn seems to be unconscious; his face an unrecognizable mask of blood and bruises and his eyes are swollen and black all around. Raphael wonders if looking like that, he’s going to lose his sight. He is shirtless and his torso is covered in cuts and bruising contusions. And a mix of dried and fresh blood as well. So much… blood.

All in all, the scene is quite disturbing to watch, especially because of the utter stillness of the man, which appears somehow unnatural.

As they step further into what seems to have become a chamber of horrors, Raphael hears the terrified gasp the Warlock that he is roughly pushing inside lets out, perhaps realizing he is the next one. Raphael also notices the slight but constant shaking of his body. Galaster hasn’t drawn a single breath since they walked in, probably as shocked as the Vampire was at being faced with such barbarity.

After Ragnor caught him and brought him to Magnus’ hideout, the High Warlock welcomed him and seemed ready to deal with him right away, but something made him change his mind. In fact, a fire message arrived, out of the blue. The tone of those written words, read aloud by Magnus for everyone’s benefit, was urgent and frantic, asking, demanding Magnus to open a portal for whomever it was. Magnus looked mischievously pleased by the unexpected visit and ordered Raphael to take Galaster, already handcuffed with special restraints blocking his magic, to another room. Magnus was emanating a spine-chilling, frightening aura and was sporting a wicked smile on his lips; that was a grimace Galaster has never witnessed before. Before being dragged away, he saw Magnus open the portal, and Meliorn step out of it. It seemed much more like a trap, but Galaster couldn’t know what happened next. He guessed Magnus and Ragnor would proceed to interrogate the man about the Queen’s real intentions. On the other hand, the Queen had just tried to trick him, or so Ragnor told him, and surely Magnus wouldn’t trust Meliorn to be on his side, despite their century-old friendship.

But this was no interrogation… This was brutal and merciless agony. Galaster has made many bad decisions in his life. Decisions he is not proud of. In the past, he had thought for a long time that Valentine could really be the only hope against Demons... But then the outcast Shadowhunter turned out to be a visionary psycho-murderer and Galaster regretted having fought alongside him. He contributed to the deaths of his fellow Warlocks. Of innocent Downworlders. But Galaster has always been a coward and has been in hiding for 20 years, knowing he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness. Magnus Bane, instead, has always been a man of different moral stature. So far at least. Now he too seems to have lost that same humanity that makes Warlocks better than their demonic parents.

Galaster starts squirming against Raphael’s body. He is terrified. Meliorn was Magnus’ friend, so he can’t even think about what the Warlock may have in store for him. What kind of physical and mental torture he will make him endure? And Galaster is not that strong, is he?

“Unfortunately, I still need confirmation that the Sword is kept at the Seelie Court.” Magnus goes on, wiping his bloody hands on a rag. He could have cleaned them magically, but the effect would be different. Way less dramatic or horrid.

Raphael holds the Warlock firmly, still gawking at Magnus with a shocked expression. Magnus is finally showing what his true nature is, isn’t he? He is more than just a half demon, in his veins runs the blood of one of the most powerful Greater Demons. Raphael gets it, but this? Torture?

His face must be showing his consternation, because Magnus laughs at him, half amused and half annoyed.

“By Lilith, Raphael, don’t look so appalled! Meliorn is a tough nut to crack. But I am going to give him a little respite, ok? I guess I can lavish some of my attention on our dear Galaster now. What do you say, Ragnor, will we be luckier with this one? Will he tell us what we want to know? Or will he break too soon… He doesn’t seem very… resilient.”

At that moment the chained man moans and begins to cough up blood.

"Help… Please... Raph…" His voice is feeble and gurgling as he keeps drooling reddened saliva.

Magnus throws the blood-soaked rag to the ground angrily and stalks toward the man, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back violently, causing him to whine in pain again.

"Meliorn, don't be so annoying. We are having a conversation here. You better shut up and save your breath for later. Don’t worry, I’ll make you scream again soon. Now it’s Galaster’s turn, though. So, be quiet, yes? And enjoy the show.”

He releases Meliorn’s hair and spins around to stare at the other Warlock.

“Galaster, are you ready? I think you'll find these chains very interesting. They not only prevent you from using magic like the handcuffs you're wearing now, but they're made of adamas. So, they will be very unpleasant against your skin. You know that those marks don't heal, right? You will carry the scars forever, assuming you’ll survive."

"What? That's barbaric. Please Magnus, no… You can’t..."

Magnus shrugs nonchalantly, while Raphael starts pushing him to make him advance toward the chains dangling from the ceiling. The Vampire has not much of a choice, even if he doesn’t agree with Magnus’ methods, he won’t get in his way. He is not that stupid.

"Well, Galaster, I can, actually. Yet… what is gonna happen it's up to you, really. Meliorn has been useless so far and I'm losing my temper. If you tell me where is the Sword and who got it in the first place, I'll let you go, you will be free to run away and keep hiding like the filthy rat you are. Otherwise, I'll take all my wrath out on you, Galaster. This is a promise… I won’t hold back; I won’t spare you any suffering. Or even death, if necessary."

"Fuck, Magnus. We're not like that. Don’t you want to try and persuade him to cooperate? You can’t kill someone in cold blood like this."

"Oh, no? Well, watch me, Raphael. We have demon blood, my dear. And it is cold. Shadowhunters are right about that. Our blood calls for blood. And I'm sick of everything. Rebel Warlocks, hypocrite Nephilim people, and even friends who don’t trust me…”

That sounded dangerously like a threat. Raphael widens his eyes, taken aback, but shuts his mouth once and for all. Magnus’ expression softens then.

“Raphael, I would never hurt you, but I won't let this world go to shit. Not if I can avoid it. There are still people I care about and I need to make it clear to the Consul that if she doesn't want the Shadowhunter line to be exterminated, she'll have to listen to us. I’ll put my hands on that damn Sword, no matter what the cost and I am not going to hand it back to the Clave. It’s too dangerous. By Lilith… They are nothing more than a bunch of incompetents at best and bloodthirsty traitors at worst."

Magnus looks around, catching the irony in his words, and giggles briefly.

"My God, Bane, you're a monster."

Galaster whispers with a strangled voice, trying to escape the lethal grip of Raphael’s hands around his arms. But he isn’t strong enough, and his magic is obstructed by the restraints Magnus put around his wrists. Magnus lifts one of his eyebrows, smirking. Raphael shivers again.

"Am I a monster? Me? And what about you, then? You joined the Circle 20 years ago, you betrayed us and stained your hands with the blood of so many innocents. I just want justice, Galaster, and I may spare your life if you tell me where the Sword is. Otherwise, you are going to suffer… well, a lot."

A sob erupts from the Warlock’s mouth, his face transfigured by fear.

“Magnus…” Raphael knows he is not going to stop him. But…

“Raphael, if you're not strong enough, please leave the room, I've made it soundproof so you won't hear his screams, as I bet you didn't hear Meliorn's.”

Raphael shakes his head.

"No, I'll stay. I don't like this, but if this is the only way..."

"You know it is... We need to retrieve the Sword before it's too late. Shall we proceed?”

With a flick of his wrist, Meliorn is freed from the chains and his battered body slumps awkwardly to the ground.

Ragnor stands up from the armchair and kicks him away with his foot, making room for Galaster to take his place. When he deems it enough room, he turns to the Vampire. The British Warlock oddly seems to be having a great time.

"Raphael, bring him here so I can hang him. I think Meliorn has passed out again and won't wake up anytime soon. Magnus went a little rough on him.” He sounds almost amused by the situation.

“Magnus, this time try to make this last a little longer, ok?" He concludes and Magnus shrugs,as to say “I’ll try” and starts rolling up his sleeves intently. Raphael thrusts Galaster forward to make him move, but Galaster puts up some resistance.

"No… Wait, please…”

The Warlock drops to his knees, resting his forehead on the ground in prostration before Magnus; he is sobbing in earnest now, but Magnus looks down at him with undisguised contempt. For being a magical immortal being Galaster is admittedly reduced to an embarrassing begging mess. But he must know he is nowhere as powerful as Magnus, and if the High Warlock has decided to torture him to death, his only hope is to tell the truth and implore his mercy.

“Please, Magnus… I’ll talk, please.”

Magnus stops rolling his sleeves and grins.

“I’m listening.”

Galaster straightens up, sitting on his heels and looks up at Magnus like a mistreated puppy.

“Ok, sure So… Valentine... when he died… I knew I had to run away… And I never meant to go back to New York, I swear… But they found me, somehow, and they asked me to portal the Sword from Paris and to obscure any trace of the portal. They threatened me, and I thought… I could do just this one thing, right? I could disappear again, afterward, I thought… but Ragnor... Shit... I didn't mean... Please, Magnus… forgive me, ok? I'll do whatever you ask me. Just… Spare my life… I am immortal, I cannot die... Please…"

The Warlock is rambling by now, having his fear taken the best of him. Magnus’ eyes are cold and unforgiving, though. His words even more, spat out through his teeth.

"Frankly, you are unforgivable, Galaster. As I said, I have no pleasure in inflicting pain, although I am good at it since as you know, I am my father’s son, after all. Do you wanna have a taste of my skills?"

"No… For God's sake... Magnus… Please…" Galaster whines and Magnus’ eyes shine with impatience.

"Stop begging then and tell me where the Sword is, so Ragnor can bring you back to whatever sewage he found you all in one piece."

A glint of hope lights the Warlock’s eyes. He nods frantically. He will talk, he will tell Magnus anything to save his life.

"The… The Sword is… It is already in Idris, ok?” Galaster is clearly overwhelmed by sheer terror and seems now unable to stop the tears, as he tries to speak between sobs.

“They… They asked me to create a portal near… near Brooklyn so you would be indicted… But the Sword was taken to Idris, I think... Oh God… I think pretty much right after I portaled it to… to New York..."

“Whom are you talking about? Who brought it there?” Magnus asks, relentlessly. He expects the Warlock kneeling before him to say Alec’s name; Alec Lightwood and his siblings were responsible of this whole mess. He has been so damn sure, but… apparently, he has never been so wrong in his life.

"Johnathan Morgenstern.” This is the name Galaster chokes off in the end, bowing his head forward in total surrender.

Magnus frowns, wordlessly. Because Johnathan Morgenstern is, was actually, Valentine's long-dead son. So, maybe he got it wrong.

“Who?”

“You heard me right. Valentine's son. I know, he died when he was just a toddler, I… I can’t explain why, or even how he has come back… But he is not human anymore. He’s not even a Shadowhunter anymore. He returned from Hell to take his revenge. He wants... He wants to break down the gates of Hell and rule Edom together with his sister. He told me as much. And I know he has made a deal with the Queen. She… She will reign on Earth, this world will be a… colony to her Seelie Court, while Johnathan wants to dominate Hell. But… there will be no more barriers between worlds, they will merge into one single realm. With the Cup and the Sword, he will be able to control demons and annihilate all the Nephilim people who are now protecting Mundanes... So, they will all die. Everyone without demon blood in their veins will die. I am so sorry…"

Galaster seems to have regained his eloquence, but what he just said… It makes Magnus' blood run cold in his veins. Raphael and Ragnor seem equally petrified. Valentine's son? The little baby had horribly died in a fire at the Morgensterns’ mansion in Idris, shortly before Jocelyn managed to deceive and end her husband's life with the help of Lucius Greymark, the man’s parabatai. That night Jocelyn got pregnant with a girl, who was born nine months later in Alicante.

How did Johnathan even survive? One thing is for sure though; being Valentine and Jocelyn’s son, the boy must be a Shadowhunter, he has angelic blood and could not have survived in Hell. So, what Galaster said makes no sense. In any case, his angelic blood may have granted him free access to Idris until now, and if he already brought the Sword there… It would be a disaster.

“Look, there's no way he survived the fire, much less he came back from Hell. Don’t mess around with me, Galaster… You don’t wanna play this game, do you?”

The Warlock seems calmer now, as if resigned to his fate. There is not much more he can do. He is at Magnus’ mercy and there is no point in keeping the truth for himself.

“Magnus… I’m not lying. He is a monster… He has demon blood in his veins and he is powerful…”

He is not human anymore… The Warlock’s previous words sink in, eventually. Magnus’ eyes widen in realization.

"...there is something wrong with him… I mean, he’s not a Warlock, or a Seelie, but he has something absolutely demonic in him. And he is a shapeshifter… I saw him change… so he now looks like one of them... He took the place of the nephew of the Head of the Paris Institute a while ago and he had been living there for months.”

The Warlock stops speaking and looks up at Magnus, desperation and regret clear on his face.

“It’s too late, Magnus. He has the Sword…. And when he puts his hand on the Cup... He... He will destroy our world to its foundations. I am sorry… So sorry."

Magnus’ jaw twitches and his hands close in tight fists. It’s way worse than expected, but it’s not his habit to give in without a fight.

"Raphael… We have to hurry."

The Vampire nods, looking alarmed, and willing to follow Magnus’ orders.

“I know… Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it… Just… It seems that Alec is not involved, after all.”

“No, he isn’t.” Magnus admits, flatly. He is relieved, but he has no time to process what happened with the young Shadowhunter. It must be an explanation for his behavior. Raphael and Maia, and even Meliorn, they were right.

“And Isabelle either, right?”

When the Seelie man, still laying on the floor, speaks again out of the blue, Galaster trail off in surprise. Meliorn scoffs then, shaking his head and lithely sitting up. His voice is firm and steady and he glances up at Raphael, grinning at the Vampire. Then he turns his awfully swollen eyes toward Magnus.

“I told you, didn’t I? Isabelle is not a traitor.”

He stands up easily, a moment later, his lopsided smile still plastered on his bruised face. Galaster gapes at him, and he gasps in surprise when his whole body shape becomes blurred and glows with a multicolor light.

Right… He thinks. Seelie magic.

When the glimmer around his figure fades away, all the bruises, wounds, and even the blood that covered his skin have disappeared. Meliorn is completely unharmed and standing in front of the Warlock in all his angelic-and-demonic combined glory.

“What the fuck?” Galaster mutters in disbelief.

Magnus can’t help but chuckle softly at the man’s mystified reaction, while Meliorn picks up a tunic that was on another armchair and puts it on.

“Galaster? Are you ok? You seem a little pale…” Magnus mocks him with evident satisfaction.

“You… You didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t hurt Meliorn, I don't usually engage in torture and turn my back on my friends. I’m not that kind of man, and I pride myself on trying to listen to them, despite my prejudices. I was sure that the young Lightwoods were behind this, but they made me reconsider my assumption. Or at least they convinced me that there might be another explanation. As much as I don't trust Shadowhunters, I do trust those who have stood by me for centuries. I can't say the same thing about you, though. You betrayed us twenty years ago, and you are going to pay for that, now. We will deliver you to the Clave and you will be tried for the crimes you committed when you were in the Circle. I'm sure the Clave won't have as much mercy on you as I'm having. I didn’t lie, you know? I don't like to inflict pain... But you... You deserve no mercy, Galaster, and my hands are itching… Raphael? Please, take him away, before I can indulge in rash deeds."

"What? No… No, you promised to let me go if I told you the truth. Magnus… You gave me your word…"

Magnus scoffs and points at him, looking at Meliorn in clear amusement.

"He still doesn't get it, does he?” He asks the Seelie man, feigning incredulity.

Then Magnus steps forward and crouches in front of Galaster. He utters his following words coldly and in such a detached way that the kneeling Warlock seems to be about to burst out crying again.

His eyes are wet and his lower lip is trembling, but Magnus doesn’t pity him.

“This was all a farce, Galaster… Everything I said was a lie. Besides, I can't let you go. You're my ticket to get to Idris now, I need you. You shall meet with none other than the Consul herself, in her opulent office in Alicante, pleading your case. Raphael? Call Isabelle and tell her to get ready, we're taking this scum to the Institute."

"Got it… I'll call Izzie right away. Let me just get this package ready to be delivered to the Clave, ok? Just… Don't you think you overdid it with the amount of blood? It bordered me on the far-fetched side."

Magnus shrugs. “Maybe. But it worked; so…”

Raphael is unabashedly grinning now as are Meliorn and Ragnor. Who can blame them, though? This was so easy, after all, and they played a great team game. More than great. And above all, Magnus is such a good actor, isn’t he?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Every Shadowhunter knows that in one of the guarded rooms adjacent to the Consul's office, there is a permanent portal, that can be connected to all Institutes in the world. It is mainly used by high-ranking officers of the Clave visiting one or other Institute or by the Heads living and working in the diverse cities who need to go to Alicante for whatever reason, or even to transfer prisoners who are to be incarcerated, tried, or executed at the Guards. The procedure is magically complex and is operated by a few portal workers, properly trained to interface with each portal on the other side of the magical channel. They are responsible to make sure that travelers arrive at the desired destination safely.

Clary and Sebastian are walking along the corridor to get there and two guards are following them, as ordered by the Inquisitor, but the girl knows that, provided they really go through the portal, it is very unlikely that they will land in South Africa as they should. Probably, one of the Shadowhunters in charge of their transfer is a traitor. But Clary is prepared. For starters, she is ready to react, she has her weapons and won’t hesitate to use them in case the blond Shadowhunter attacks her. Secondly, she has activated a special rune to be localized by her mother and Lucius, Luke, as she has always called him. And most importantly, the Cup she is holding in her hand is not the Cup.

It's a simulacrum. A fake. The Cup has already been brought to safety for some time. When all this mess started, Clary was sent to New York undercover, to figure out who at the New York Institute could be the traitor. Because it was obvious there was a Shadowhunter involved. It must have been. A Downworlder alone could not have activated the Sword and in any case, Jocelyn knew that Magnus Bane was a man of honor, even though the two hadn't interacted in the last 19 years and were never friends. But both knew the value of loyalty. During the Uprising, Jocelyn pretended to be part of the Circle, she double-crossed Valentine, dangerously putting her life at risk. And she lost a son for the cause; in the end, she murdered her husband and Magnus respected her for that; he understood her pain, in some respect at least. And Clary knows her mother has always returned the favor toward the Warlock. But the Inquisitor... She had no idea, and she issued an arrest warrant for the High Warlock. In fact, no one knows about Clary’s true mission. Only her mother, Luke, and the Consul of course. Not even the Inquisitor knows the truth; as far as she is concerned, she did entrust the Cup to Clary a few minutes earlier and Magnus Bane is nothing less than a criminal. Well, the Clave will apologize to Magnus Bane when it's all over. The High Warlock is on the run at the moment and Clary hopes they don't catch him. She doesn't want him tortured or worse when she knows he's innocent. Not that she could do anything about it right now. Now she has to stay focused; anything can literally go to hell in a blink of an eye.

Now, Clary's at the reckoning. The Sword hasn't been found yet, but she knows it's her job to find it, and to do so she must humor this imposter, whoever he might be. The short distance from the Inquisitor's office to the Portal room feels longer than usual. Clary feels the tension in her shoulders as she walks unhurriedly, Sebastian following.

In the end, nothing happens and they cross the portal, under the watchful eye of the few Shadowhunters in the room. She is not very surprised, though, when past the glowing light of the portal, finds herself at the edge of a forest edging the shore of a lake. Well, the place is familiar to her. She has often seen those tall conifers and the silver water of the lake; on the other hand, she grew up in Idris, so she knows immediately that they are near Lake Lyn and the fact that Sebastian, or whoever this intruder is, wanted to take the Cup with him is concerning. She knows what that means, even more, if he has the Sword as she suspects.

And she bets the Sword is nearby. Who the Hell is this man? A well-disguised Warlock? But he entered the Institute and Idris’s wards without issues, so he must have angelic blood in his veins.

This makes no sense at all. He must be a Shadowhunter, but he needs demon blood to accomplish the ritual with the Cup. Maybe he has an accomplice… She must be very, very careful.

Clary is walking ahead of Sebastian again, slowing her pace and with all her senses on alert. The young man follows her and doesn’t say a word, but she needs to face him, so she stops in her tracks and spins on her heels, abruptly to look at him straight in the face. He is… smiling.

“Clarissa. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I have waited for this moment for so long, you have no idea.”

She frowns. The impostor cannot know it, but Clary met Sebastian five years earlier and it is not possible that the boy doesn’t remember her. They were barely teenagers when they met and they traded a soft, innocent kiss on the lips. Sebastian had been living in Paris for a few months then, after having lost his parents, and he was a timid and kind boy, and Clary spent a few days with him when she accompanied her mother to visit her friend Elodie. She and the blond boy clicked very fast somehow; they were so young and after those few days together and that delicate kiss they hadn’t seen each other again. Clary had her life in Idris and Sebastian in Paris, but she is sure he would remember that kiss.

However, when she introduced herself to him, the day before at the New York Institute, he gave no sign of recognizing her. And he looked eerily different. His eyes had lost all their gentleness.

Clary immediately considered that he had just arrived from Paris... and it was a sketchy coincidence, right? Of course, she couldn't share her suspicions with anyone. Not even with the young Lightwoods, who immediately welcomed her with open arms. Well, at least Isabelle and Jace.

She had yet to figure out what kind of person Alec was. But it was pretty clear that he didn't trust her, which made him either a possible suspect or a precious ally in her eyes. Clary leaned more toward the latter. Again just because of her instinct... And yet, she was rarely wrong.

"Where are we? And above all... Who the Hell are you?"

She finally asks, showing no agitation or fear. Her mother knows where she is, or at least Clary hopes so. Someone will come soon for her. And the Cup is far away, somewhere safe.

"Oh, you're right sorry. I should introduce myself. And maybe show you what I really look like. I bet you'll notice the resemblance."

Saying so, the young boy changes his shape, his appearance. It’s a complete, full morphing of his body and face and even though Clary has already seen shapeshifters change their shape before, she knows no Shadowhunter possesses that ability. They may use a glamor but the effect is not the same. It drops altogether, it’s just an illusion. Therefore, the transformation that is slowly happening before her eyes is fascinating and horrific at the same time. The body structure of the boy, his skin, his eyes... everything transforms deep to its inner essence. Sebastian is gone in a few moments and instead of him, another boy is standing before her, more or less of the same height, slender, with red hair and green eyes, exactly like she and her mother.

"Hello… Sister." He confirms with a smirk.

"No... It's not possible. You are dead. Our father killed you; you died swallowed by the flames."

"No…” He retorts angrily, “our father saved me. He took me away from the fire and entrusted me to my mother. Or at least to the mother who actually raised me, nurturing me with her blood."

"Who are you talking about?"

Johnathan shrugs as if anything he was referring to was absolutely obvious.

"Well, Lilith… of course. I grew up in Edom, Clary and I assure you… It was not an idyllic experience. But the time will come when I will get my revenge against her, too. I will get even, Clary, in due course and for everything that happened to me. I will rule over Edom. I will dethrone her, and I’ll do it for you. I... I want to make you my Queen, what do you say? When I heard that our mother had another baby, that I had a little sister... Well, I decided to survive in Edom to come back to you. Despite the torture and all the pain Lilith inflicted on me every single day I spent with her, the thought that I still had someone to live for... To fight for, well, it made me hold on. Now give me the Cup, Clary... You need to drink my blood before I can put an end to every Shadowhunter’s existence, reduce them to be human again as they should be."

"Your blood?"

Clary mutters in dismay. She is shocked by what this boy revealed. Is he really her brother? And was he raised by Lilith? The Queen of Edom?

"Yes... Lilith’s blood in my vein will make you a creature of Edom, like me if you drink it from the Mortal Cup. When our sword, the Morning Star Sword, finally burns your runes away and gets rid of any drop of angelic blood in our veins, we will rule over Edom, together."

Johnathan looks so calm and confident, and Clary is overwhelmed by a new feeling. She is sorry for him. Alone and abandoned, raised by a Demon, unaware of what love can be. What having a family even means. But she can’t let him win. She can’t.

“I am not going to Edom. Here is where I belong, ok? And you too. I am not going to drink your… blood.”

The mere idea makes her stomach churn in disgust.

“Oh, but you will. This is the most precious gift I can offer you, or do you prefer to become a Mundane and succumb to the horde of Demons that are about to pour into this World?”

Good Lord.

“How…”

The boy rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by her continuous puzzlement.

“The Sword, my dear… The Morning Star Sword that has belonged to our family for generations and that only you and I can activate with a simple touch, because of our name, can open a rift between here and Edom, but first I need to get rid of Raziel’s blood in our system.”

Of course, he is the only one who can use the Sword even if he is not a Nephilim anymore. That’s… terrifying. Clary can’t allow him to put his hand on that infernal blade.

“Where… Where is the Sword?”

“Not far from here. So... Are you with me, Clary? I know you are not to blame for what happened to me. You weren’t even born. Our mother abandoned me to die in that fire and our father left me in the hands of the Mother of Demons. But you? You are not to blame and you are my lil’ sister. I want to share my glory and power with you. We'll get to know each other, and I promise you, you'll be happy with me. Nobody will get in our way; you will get everything you want. I'm your brother, Clary, I just want to protect you and you'll learn to love me back. I'm sure of it."

He spoke his last words more sweetly, as if he really believed them and it’s heartbreaking in its craziness.

“Johnathan… I can't believe you survived… But our mother… She didn't abandon you, she tried to save you. It was Valentine's fault. That night… It was he who started the fire… She… She loved you and she has never forgiven herself for failing to protect you. I'm so sorry for what happened to you, but… I can't give you the Cup. You will have to kill me, Johnathan. Is this what you want?"

The boy's young but unsettlingly sharp face hardens a bit more at her rejection, and his eyes turn pitch dark. They are evil, bloodcurdling, revealing his demonic nature. Clary notices that he has no runes on his skin, at least on the visible parts of his pale body, and wonders if he can even bear them without losing his mind. Even more than he has already had.

She instinctively recoils when those devilish orbs meet her eyes. Her brother stares at her with those abyss-black eyes and Clary suddenly feels weak, and dizzy, her wobbly legs are suddenly unable to keep her on her feet.

"What the Hell… What are you doing to me?"

"Sleep, little sister, and when you wake up, it will be in a new world. A wonderful world that we will build together..."

Clary feels her lids heavy as she collapses, somehow gracefully, to the ground while her senses leave her, rendering her vulnerable and completely at her brother’s mercy.

She won't surrender… she must stop Johnathan and retrieve the Sword… It’s her mission, she must resist the sleepiness… But it's a losing battle.

Clary closes her eyes, as darkness envelops her. She hopes that her mother is on her way before it’s too late. Before Johnathan can open a rift to Edom, before he finds out she hasn’t the real Cup, cradled to her breast and his hopeless wrath destroys the World.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Alec enters the Consul's office, head held high and a stern scowl on his face, pushing Galaster Qibynn in front of him, in an attempt to make him walk faster. They were just in time, the portal to Idris was about to be shut down.

The plan Magnus Bane proposed to them was… well, literally crazy. But the Warlock was persuasive enough and convinced him that this was their only way to get to Idris in time. The unsanctioned transfer of the rogue Warlock would cover Magnus’ traces entering Alicante’s wards. Or at least, this is what they hope. Alec of course, but also Isabelle, Jace, Maia, Lily, Raphael, Meliorn, Catarina, and Ragnor.

They stayed in New York, waiting at the Institute to Maryse's sheer bewilderment; she was however silenced by a truly menacing Raphael.

Such a large gathering of Downwolders all together under the roof of the Institute was surely unprecedented. They are ready to jump into the portal, should it open again. But for now, Alec is alone. The Consul is standing in front of her desk and is glaring furiously at him.

"Alexander Lightwood, you know we were about to close all the portals for a reason, don't you? You were not allowed to bring that Warlock here. The orders were clear. So, I wonder… what on Earth was so difficult for you to understand in the sentence "No Downwolders are allowed in Idris"? My life is at stake here."

Alec can’t really help but roll his eyes. He is already so…done. Everything happened incredibly fast and he has still to understand how he ended up in Idris with this handcuffed Warlock. At the same time Catarina was updating Maia about what happened with Galaster, Isabelle called him, summoning him back to the Institute. Apparently, Magnus had gotten his hands on the one who stole the Sword and was willing to hand it over to them. But the Warlock demanded that the prisoner needed to be taken to the Guards in Idris, using the portal at the Institute. Galaster Qibynn would talk to the Consul and the Consul alone, revealing Johnathan Morgenstern’s plan. Isabelle explained that the Warlock wanted to get immunity for himself in exchange for information about the Sword’s whereabouts. That was what Raphael told her.

Alec then rushed to the Institute with the two werewolf girls only a few moments before the small delegation of Downworlders arrived, dragging Galaster in chains with them.

Obviously, Maryse Lightwood freaked out, but eventually, faced with proof of Magnus' innocence and the real risk that the Sword could have been already in Idris, she let Alec go, pursuing this crazy idea Magnus came up with. Just before jumping into the portal to Alicante, though, Magnus grabbed his wrist and looked straight into his eyes. It wasn’t a friendly look. And his words still resonate in his ears.

"Apparently we need to work together for the greater good, Shadowhunter, but don't think I can ever forget that you deceived me and tried to incriminate me for things I didn't do and would never even think of doing. You got into my pants for your vile purposes and I hope you did have fun because that won't happen again. I despise you, are we clear? When we get out of this mess, just stay as far away as possible from me... The risk that I may try to incinerate you remains absolutely plausible. Do you understand?"

Alec was overwhelmed by guilt and regret and he was sorry for… for everything. But Magnus’ hurt feelings and his anger needed to wait. So, he rebutted, trying to convey his displeasure, but cutting it short nonetheless.

"Magnus… Look, I don't have time for this right now. But don't worry, I promise I won’t bother you with my presence. I know I hurt you and even if it wasn’t my intention, I am well aware of what I have done and I’ll take full responsibility for that. Now let's go and get the Morning Star Sword before Valentine's son succeeds in ending the World, shall we?"

Magnus’ eyes shone with something similar to admiration, and a weird form of respect.

"Lead the way, Shadowhunter."

The Warlock said in the end.

And now here he is, following Magnus’ plan, trusting him, and putting himself at risk, fully and without any safety net. Good Lord… He is going to die, isn’t he?

"Consul, I am well aware, but I wouldn’t have brought him here if it wasn’t crucial. Much more than your life is at stake here. There's no need to lie. You should know that someone with Demon blood has already managed to sneak into Idris, so there is really no point in keeping those people who can help you away from here. They can help you… We can help…"

"So, this is the Warlock involved in the theft of the Sword? I remember him, he is a traitor, he used to work with Valentine. But he is of no help now and he can’t remain here. You need to take him back to New York. You can put him on trial there if you want. I don’t care. You can also execute him right after, for what matters."

Galaster fidgets on the spot, clearly at unease with the Consul’s words.

"You’re not listening to me, Consul.” Alec goes on. “We know who else is behind the theft of the Sword. We know who wants to derune us."

She furrows her brows in sign of annoyance.

"How do you even know about this? It’s classified."

"Seriously? My mother told me. I can’t believe you hid this from all of us. We could have lost... everything... Our runes, our blood, our power… our angelic mission…"

"Lightwood, I can assure you; it wouldn't have been of any benefit if Shadowhunters panicked and started picking on the Downworlders. Fear is no good counselor and emotions cloud judgement."

God, why she keeps giving out platitudes?

"Well, but it wasn't a Downwolder who wants to destroy us, but a Nephilim, right? So, you need to secure the Cup, now."

And it’s then that the Consul does something unexpected. She snickers smugly at him.

"The Cup is perfectly safe and Clarissa Fairchild is pursuing the finding of the Sword. We think the Verlac boy may be the culprit. His Aunt is already under arrest and the Paris Institute is compromised. I know you and your siblings don't think highly of the Clave, but we're not a bunch of idiots."

An ungracious and disrespectful snort resonates in the office.

"Well… I beg to differ, Consul."

It was Galaster who spoke so irreverently and quite rudely to the woman, making her eyes widen in surprise.

The man easily jerks off Alec's steel grip around his bicep and the cuffs around his wrists vanish into a blue cloud of magic. The glamour falls in the blink of an eye and the Warlock standing there next to Alec is no longer Galaster, but Magnus Bane in person.

Alec can't help but look in admiration and awe at him. His posture, his proud gaze, his loud and intimidating power. Something flutters in his stomach, something that is more than wonder, more than respect. It's something he can't come to terms with at this moment. Now they apparently have to go and save Clarissa Fairchild, left alone against her demonic brother. If only they knew where he brought her. Magnus seems to read his mind.

"Where is Clarissa?" the Warlock requires, in a resolute tone that demands nothing but an answer. "Her life is in danger and I can't believe you let her go alone."

The Consul seems more irritated than concerned.

"By the Angel, what do you think you’re doing, Mr. Bane? Ms. Fairchild is perfectly capable of neutralizing one Shadowhunter. She is with Sebastian Verlac, and we don't know yet if he is the traitor. We are waiting for her to report back. They headed to the Johannesburg Institute where they are ready to receive them. We need to understand his motives and to find out whether there are other Shadowhunters involved. It's a very delicate mission, as you surely understand. In any case, the Cup is safe. You don’t need to worry about that. We gave her a fake one."

Magnus closes his fists and glowing blue sparks start spreading from his hands. He looks furious.

The Cup may be held somewhere secure, but the Clave always puts its people’s life in danger, recklessly and without sparing a second thought. Clary is alone with an infernal monster and Magnus cannot stomach their indifference to her fate. What would happen when Johnathan discovers she doesn’t have the Cup? Who knows how he would react?

"Idiots! Sebastian Verlac has probably been dead for months. The Shadowhunter with her is Valentine’s son, her brother. And he came straight from Edom to destroy us all."

The Consul looks at him dumbfounded. Now she is decisively listening to them.

"What?"

"Valentine's son. He didn’t die in the fire at the Morgenstern’s mansion as we thought, and, don’t ask me how, but he has Demon's blood in his vein. You see, Consul, he is a Nephilim, and even with his contaminated blood… he can both activate the Sword and use the Cup to derune us all."

At that moment, a red-haired woman and an African American man burst into the Consul's office.

"Jia! Clary has never arrived in Johannesburg… She's still here, in Idris… she's at Lake Lyn… We need to go."

Alec hears Magnus whisper a curse that no one would dare to utter in the Consul's presence, but… whatever. He is not wrong. The two men look and nod at each other, with the same resolute expression on their tense faces.

"Let's go. Maybe it's not too late. Jonathan doesn’t have the Cup, after all." Magnus says, whirling his hand to open a portal. Maybe he can’t obliterate the Nephilim kind, but he can still hurt Clary and open a rift to Edom. No Demon Tower in Alicante could protect the city then.

Alec braces himself to jump into the light with the Warlock, thinking once again that it’s true… He is going to die, isn’t he? Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s for a good cause. They will stop Johnathan Morgenstern at any cost. He and Magnus together.

#malec fic #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #shmb2023

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hom3land3r · 7 months ago

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Homelander had just finished an interview in his office for TIME magazine when he heard his phone buzz…and then buzz again. Clearly someone was trying to get his attention. While Ashley babbled by his side, he checked his phone and read the two messages from James. A smile formed on his lips at the typos, technology being the vampires downfall still. Of course, he wasn’t that much better yet played it safe by not typing anything and purely sending a “👍” instead.

“Yeah, Ashley I gotta run. But I’m sure you’ll sort everything out, right? Good girl.” Homelander said with a smile as he headed off to the Seven meeting room. It wasn’t long before the thud of boots echoed along the hallway and the Supe appeared at the doorway. He stood tall and proud, arms behind his back as he tilted his head, gaze locked on the younger vampire. A smile formed on his features as he headed further inside the room. “Well, well. What do we have here?” He hummed. “Skylar, right? Young vampire and thorn in James’ side. You’ve given him quite a bit of trouble tonight, haven’t you sport?”

Homelander’s tone was calm, even friendly, creating an illusion of security. But James would know better what game he was playing. He half sat on the edge of the meeting room table in front of Skylar. When the kid hadn’t responded or even reacted to his presence, Homelander reached out and grabbed the kid by the jaw, staring him in the eyes. He saw the faintest flicker of green in them. “Oh, come now. Drop the thrall muzzle, James. Let the kid speak.” He instructed without looking away, letting go of Skylar. “After all, he’s plenty good at it, wouldn’t you say?” His gaze shifted to James for a moment with a chuckle before moving back to Skylar.

“You seem to have ruffled quite a few feathers tonight, pal. That’s no easy feat when it comes to James. Frankly, I’m quite impressed.” Homelander stated with raised brows. “I’ve clearly gotten under that cold, dead skin of yours. Ironic since this is the first time we’ve ever met, but I don’t know whether to be flattered or not?” He hummed, pretending to actually think about it. “You have…very strong opinions of me as…misguided as they are. Oh, don’t look so surprised! You really didn’t think I couldn’t hear you from the moment you set foot in the tower?” Homelander leaned close, a dark smile on his face. All teeth…and fangs. “I heard everything.”

Easing back, he let the silence hang in the air for a long moment before speaking again. “Creating a scene in a crowded place isn’t a wise move unless you can back it up. And from what I’ve seen, you couldn’t so much as defend yourself from a paper bag never mind another vampire…or me.” Homelander stared the kid down. Even half sat on the table, his size and presence loomed over Skylar. The vampire had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He was outnumbered and right in the middle of the lion’s den. “Mm. Seems like a traditional case of all talk and no action. That’s disappointing for a vampire. Makes me even more grateful to have James at my side. What was it you said earlier…James put the term vampire to shame? …Oh, don’t look so confused. He tells me everything.” Homelander said as he tapped at his temple with a smirk. This whole time James had been showing him mental pictures and key points of his interaction with Skylar. Filling in the pieces outwith the reach of Homelander’s senses.

“See, from where I’m sitting, it looks like James is in a far better position than you are right now. You may have your own opinion when it comes to him working for me, but you’ve only seen one side of things. Believe it or not, we’re a team. A true team. Better and stronger than the Seven ever were. James here is my eyes and ears of the city we call home. The city we protect and where we hunt. And you little fella, thought you could waltz in and fuck that up for us without any consequences. Talk about putting the term vampire to shame!” Homelander laughed, glancing over at James.

However, as Skylar attempted to shift and stand to object, Homelander quickly snapped into action as a hand reached out to Skylar’s shoulder, pushing him back down into the chair. “Just you stay right where you fucking are, you pathetic little bloodsucker. I’m not done with you yet.” He snarled, eyes glowing red in warning.

@ibit3u @ashortdropandasuddenstop

Skylar had returned that growlhiss with one of his own as he was slammed against the nearest wall. He was about to protest, to struggle and attempt to fight back. James’ grip was stronger than he could overcome, and he hated that fact. The moment he was silenced by the hand over his mouth, Skylar muttered and mumbled a string of curses as his brows furrowed in pure fury.

Again, he tried to struggle. Tried to break free of that grip…but couldn’t. And then all was lost as James commanded eye contact. Skylar couldn’t resist, obeying as a pack would obey its alpha. He couldn’t refuse the elder vampire. As dark eyes met green, he felt himself be pulled deeper and deeper, felt the walls of his mind cave in and a leash around his neck as he came to heel under James’ control.

His movements stilled. He stopped resisting and instead totally gave in to what the elder had commanded. The muttering and objections had also stopped. Skylar fell silent under James’ touch, his eyes growing distant and hazy as if he was out on autopilot. Yet he was aware of everything around him, he just couldn’t react in any way. He was now docile, James getting some peace at last.

As Skylar was dragged through to the elevator, he followed obediently under James’ guidance. While inside his mind he wanted to scream and tear the elder to shreds…he couldn’t. Not after that command, not after the thrall. Only when it was lifted would Skylar be free and in control again. All he could do was obey and do as he was told, which pissed him off more and more with each passing second. Even in the elevator, Skylar stared straight ahead, eyes glassy. He couldn’t react to James’ own taunts and warnings about Homelander. The fact he was being brought to the Supe made him feel sick. Who the hell made him in charge, and how the hell did he obtain a vampire lapdog?!

None of it made sense. But deep down Skylar knew he wouldn’t get out of this easily. Either Homelander would kill him instantly…or somehow find a way to drag out his torture for longer. Whatever the case, Skylar was outnumbered. He couldn’t even fight James never mind adding Homelander to the mix, and he doubted any vampires he knew would be interested in that fight either. So he was all alone. He’d have to be smart about this…if he even got the chance to be.

As the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, Skylar was once again guided and led by James. He was very much aware he was being brought to Homelander just so James could bask in the glory and please his master. The idea made him want to throw up, however while under that thrall he couldn’t do much of anything at all until it was lifted. Skylar hated nothing worse than being trapped inside his own mind. It was useless to even try fighting it. James was too powerful to be weakened. He would have to rely on the elder becoming distracted in some way. Perhaps at the sight of his master? There was a small chance and it wasn’t one Skylar was relying on. James seemed like the professional type that was too focused on not letting Homelander down to allow himself to disappoint in any capacity.

Skylar would have no option but to see this through, one way or another…

#supe-vamp hybrid #ashortdropandsuddenstop #ibit3u #norrilander #the fledgling #homie cameo >:)

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superspookyjanelle · 4 years ago

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Oc Social Media; Delancy “Darcy” Mikaelson [ Messages From Her - To Be Determined ]

❝ Bi and ready to die....❞

TAGGING; @witchofinterest @fiercefray @sweetenemyfire @eddysocs @jasmineisabella

#darcy mikaelson #delancy mikaelson #messages from her #the originals oc #the vampire diaries oc #legacies oc #my oc babies #my oc story #ocappreciation #oc community #social media #social media edits #edits #fic #fic edits #gifs #kat dennings #teen wolf oc #crossover

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ghoularaki · 2 years ago

Note

Loved your baj keisuke primal prey fic! Especially the plot in the chase was soo good eventhough it was the built up!

I was wondering if you'd be cool with writing something along the lines of a crossover of a yokai or a vampire. I would love a little demonic energy. Along the lines of denying feelings, to being in heat/need for blood (?) To a little chasing and well wooing in the yandere way >>:)

Happy holidays ! :DD

my bloody valentine

ig chase scenes and clubs are just gonna become my staple, i aint complaining >:) (meant to post this on valentine's so heres a 12 day late holiday fic lmao)

tw yandere vampire! baji, vampire hunter! reader, manipulative! baji, aged up! baji, dom! baji, DUBCON, violence/blood, sex work?, blood play, biting, praise, breath play, drugging, cunnilingus, overstimulation, size kink, reader almost dies from blood loss, hinted mindbreak

You blew hot air into your freezing hands. The warmth would only linger for a second but it was idle movement that kept you busy. This winter was incredibly cruel this year. Shivering, you look around into the den you will be infiltrating. You can’t say you weren’t thrilled to be given this mission by the Higher Ones.

Humans and vampires have been at war since life and death were created. It was a constant push and pull. Humans would win for a century, vampires would retaliate, then vampires would reign for the same length. You were sadly born in the time where vampires ruled. Most humans kept to themselves, some would even offer themselves to be feeds for promises of luxury. Others would hand over their lives in a different way, swear an oath to the Higher Ones to wipe out vampires for once and for all.

None of the hunters—or rather cleansers—knew exactly who the Higher Ones were. All cleansers knew was that they would receive a message whether in the mail or on their phones with a simple location and target. The target was usually the sire, cut the head of the snake and others will follow. It wasn’t rare for cleansers to work alone. Usually you would be given a partner but for this mission, you were left to your own devices. It’s not like you worked well with others, anyway. Maybe the Higher Ones finally got the message, or they were trying to kill you off. Either way, you were going to finish this mission and reap the benefits.

Flipping your phone open, you spied the message. Your mission was to pretend to be a feed to cleanse a higher ranking vampire by the name of Baji Keisuke. The number of those sired to him wasn’t the highest count—only somewhere around a dozen—a concerningly low number considering he usually had a feed.

Slipping your phone into your jacket pocket you finally make your way into the den disguised as a club. For some reason there was no bouncer at the door. Immediately you were hit with the thumping of a constant bass. Up high was a platform where a DJ set the mood for the atmosphere. The only illumination were red, flashing lights that cut through the artificial fog. There was a gaggle of grinding bodies throughout the room. By the bar were even more people. A balcony was right over the bar which you assumed was where the feeding rooms were. Glancing up, you swore you felt eyes boring right into you, but as you squinted your eyes to see farther, all the vampires hanging off the side were enjoying the show.

On high alert, deep in vampire territory, you were surprised that no one had smelt your very human scent.

“You must be lost!” A sweet, bubbly voice called to you.

Not knowing how you didn’t sense her, a petite woman stood before you. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. This woman had dazzling hazel eyes paired with soft-looking, blonde hair. Her skin was just as perfect, no blemish in sight that made you want to cover your own face. The best way to describe her was as angelic.

“Oh!” She piped up, realization on her face, “you must be a new feed.”

Straightening up, you replied, “how could you tell?”

“I can smell you, silly.”

She tapped her nose. Looking closer, from her grin you could see the baby fangs poking out.

“Yes, I don’t really know what to do, though.”

“I’ll take you to Draken!”

You were correct to describe her as bubbly. Minutes into knowing you, she wrapped her arm with yours and led you to whoever Draken was. Pushing her way through the crowds, she pulled you towards a set of doors near the bar. Now under the balcony, the feeling of being gawked at went away. You needed to be more careful.

Past the doors was a hallway not as smokey and loud as the club. A few couples leaned against the wall in their own worlds. Further down the hall stood a gargantuan man with a long, blond braid. On the side of his head was an intricate, blackwork tattoo: you can’t imagine how much it must have hurt.

“Draken,” the girl called with you in toe.

He looked up from his phone to see you both. His eyebrow twitched. He seemed displeased with said girl.

“Emma, why did you bring a human back here?”

Ah, so that’s why he was so pissed.

She ignored his question, “she’s a new feed.”

His eyes widen at that, almost relieved, “thank fuck,” he turned to you, “have you ever been a feed before?”

Pretending to seem insecure and meek, you shook your head no. Sensing your nervousness, Draken took you from Emma. She had made a noise of protest, but he had given her a look.

The hand on your shoulder was warm. He must have fed recently. It was true vampires were cold to the touch, but once they satiate their carnal needs, the blood they drank would warm their system for about an hour before becoming cold again like freshly baked cake left to cool for too long. That is why so many vampires indulged, to feel the warmth of being human again.

Further down the hallway you two went. Draken cleared his throat, “I’m sure you know that being a feed means that you will have a vampire drink from you.”

When you nod your head, he continued.

“Feeding doesn’t hurt if you are worried about that at all. Anyway, how we do feeding here is that we make sure that all feeds' needs are met. You will always be allowed breaks, and plenty of foods and drinks to bring back up your blood sugar. You also have the option of anything sexual happening and whether or not penetration will happen as well.”

Your face heated up at the implication, “no sex or anything like that, please.”

“Good to know.”

Draken led you up a flight of stairs to what you saw was the balcony you were previously looking at. Similar to the hallway, the walls were a burgundy with gold detailings. How stereotypical.

“I will inform who will be feeding from you what you decided. Wait here.”

With that, he went into a room beside you. You looked left and then right. While taking you upstairs, you memorized the route in case something goes wrong. You needed a fast escape in case. This mission was completely solo so you had to watch your own back.

Draken pushing the door back open startled you out of your thoughts. The door was left wide open as he gestured for you to come in. Taking the invitation, the room was just as red as the rest of the club. In the room were two wine hued, velvet couches adjacent to each other. Right between them was a mahogany table, under what was a mini fridge. You guessed that’s were all food and drinks you were promised for your blood sugar was.

The most eye-catching part was the three men in the room sat on said couches. On the sofa to the right were two men, one had bleach blond hair. You could tell from here that he was on the shorter side but you didn’t let that fool you. He had an alluring, cat-like look to him.

On the other hand, the man beside him had honey gold, rounded eyes. His hair dangled past his shoulders with yellow money pieces framing his sculpted face. Along with that, thick inking was displayed on the side of his neck depicting a tiger. It oddly suited him.

But what grabbed your attention the most was the vampire sitting on his lonesome, arms sprawled over the back of the couch. Legs spread as well, his whole posture demanded attention. He tilted his head to the side with a cocky smile. His hair was in a similar style to the tattooed man across from him. Though, the vampire’s hair was that of spilled ink. It tumbled around him, his fair complexion all the more pale in contrast. Similar to Emma, his fangs were on display as he smiled up at you as a cat to an unsuspecting mouse.

“Must be the new plaything,” the black haired vampire teased.

The bottle blond scoffed, “don’t scare her, Baji.”

You schooled your expression. That was a lot easier than you thought to find your target. So sure you would have to ask around without being conspicuous to find him, this seemed almost too easy.

Baji reached a hand out from where he sat. Taming your disgust, you leave the security of the doorway and enter the belly of the beast. Placing your hand into his freezing, larger palm, Draken took his leave and closed you in with the enemy. Forgoing any formalities, Baji pulled you right into his lap. You struggled in shock but he was quick to snuff the resistance by gripping your hips.

The other vampires in the room laughed. You silently seethed being used as a toy for their sick entertainment. Knowing in this position you couldn’t even imagine taking down the vampire, you melted into his chest.

“Atta girl,” he sighed into your ear.

Coming down from their giggles, the other men introduce themselves.

“I’m Chifuyu. I will not apologize for Baji because he will just be annoying,” the bottle blond—Chifuyu—clarified with no malice in his voice. Baji playfully snarled at him.

“Kazutora. Lets hope you last longer than the other ones,” the tattooed vampire spoke cryptically. How reassuring.

Chifuyu elbowed him.

Ignoring the bickering, Baji placed his attention on you, “Don’t listen to him. I don’t intend to break you… yet.”

“I don’t like what that implies.”

The room became silent at your sass. Kazutora smirked, “so the little lamb has fangs as well.”

You clamped your mouth shut at that. Baji adjusted you in his lap, but he didn’t give away any displeasure.

At that, the room becomes lively once again. Your presence was completely ignored. You didn’t know if you should be insulted or not. The strangest part was the whole time, Baji didn’t feed from you at all. Besides in the beginning of the session, he had not even grazed your neck. This confused you as you were sure it has been weeks since he has fed. His self control was terrifying if he could starve himself and have basically raw meat served to him on a silver platter and not give into temptation.

You tried your best to keep your cool and slow your pulse to not show how confused you were. By the end of the night, Baji had sent you away by dragging his nose up the length of your neck.

Kissing the skin beneath your ear, “‘til tomorrow, pet.”

In a daze, you leave his lap and walk out of the den with not a scratch on you. As you made your way back to your hideout, you completely forgot about your goal of immediately annihilating him.

You were awoken with two text messages. One from a Higher One and another from Draken. While walking down the hall, you had totally forgotten you had given your number so he could contact you when Baji wanted you. You were officially Baji’s feed.

ONE WEEK

sent 10:00 AM

Come to the club at 10 pm

sent 5:53 AM

Throwing your phone in anger at the first message, you racked a hand down your face. How the fuck where you supposed to kill him in a week? These old fucks were definitely trying to kill you off.

Sending a thumbs up to Draken, you lay in bed contemplating your next move to take out this den.

When you went back to the club, you were met with Draken at the door this time. He guided you through the crowds. You caught a glimpse of Emma, exchanging a shy wave to her overexcited one.

Going down the same path to the room, you once again mark in your head how to swiftly get out of the building. There were no windows to not let sunlight touch the inside. Vampires didn’t burn up in the sun, but it could make them ill if exposed for too long, like a worm stuck on the concrete on a summer day.

Deja vu crept in when you walked in just as you did yesterday to see the same vampires in the same position. You could tell yourself that they never left like dolls in a dollhouse waiting for whatever child to play with them again.

Baji welcomed you back into his icy embrace. Less skittish as the day before, you thaw into his cold body. They went back to their conversation. You played the part of a lap dog for these beasts.

This went on for seven more days.

Anxiety bubbled up inside you. This was the last day given to you to complete this assignment. Typically, you were fast at finishing a job, but for some reason you had dragged this one out. Maybe it was the first time you had to actually get close to a target instead of your usual shoot and leave. You had grown comfortable with the company of those three vampires. Dare you say, safe, as no one had harmed a hair on your head. It had been years since you had been cared for. It was hard to befriend fellow cleansers as you never knew who would make it back, whether it was a vampire or by the Higher Ones’ hands.

There was a reason not many chose to be cleansers, most didn’t even have a choice. You bared through the cards dealt to you. You can’t afford to not complete this job. Tonight was the night.

Adjusting the silver blade strapped against your thigh, you saw Draken waiting for your arrival.

“Before you come in, I must warn you tonight is Valentine’s day so there is going to be a lot of traffic. You will go to your usual room, but don’t be surprised by the influx of your kind.”

You understood the implications. Some people were here to get their kicks. “Whatever, let's just get out of this cold.”

“After you.”

Nodding your head, you are hit with the warmth of tightly packed bodies, a mix of vampires and humans. Lust really does bring camaraderie, you mused. You abandoned the sentiment, prepared to finish this once and for all. If you were smart, you could use the crowd to blend in when you make your departure. It was difficult to see over the sea of people.

Forcing your way through, you take the road to what could be your doom and be in the company of those strange vampires. Usually Draken would lead you to the room, this time he was too busy dealing with the crowd. There were plenty of inexperienced humans he had to make sure wouldn’t be drained like sun dried fruit.

Knocking on the familiar door, you awaited entrance. If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed at how the roles were reversed. You, a human, had to wait to be invited in.

“Come in,” Chifuyu’s voice called.

You twisted the door open to be presented with your typical company.

Baji beckoned you to take your place sat upon his thighs. Cocooning his body around your smaller form, you noticed that he seemed colder. His skin had light frost to it, but now he was glacerial.

On the side table were four wine glasses of varying heights of liquid in them. Baji grabbed the only cup almost filled to the brim.

“Here, drink,” he didn’t let you answer before tipping the glass to your lips.

Unable to refuse, you gulped down the rich drink, parched. As if you haven’t drank in a millenia, you let Baji pour the liquid until the glass was empty. Chifuyu and Kazutora watched on, sipping their own drinks.

“Good girl.”

Finished your glass, he placed it down and went about his business. Following routine, he ignored your pulsing jugular and kept banter with his fellow vampires. At this point, he must be famished. He hadn’t fed in what you guessed three weeks. Lesser vampires would have withered in a couple days without blood. Vampires could get nutrients from human food, but blood is where they thrived.

Mixed with the suspense of having to kill Baji without getting slaughtered and the suspicion that Baji refused to feed from you, you were more fidgety than normal. Picking at your fingernails, your eyes bounced to the door and then subtly to Baji. If you were quick you could puncture his carotid artery and sprint out, praying to whatever god that Chifuyu and Kazutora would be too stunned to instantly pounce on you.

A whisper breathed against your ear, “getting antsy, little hunter?”

Fuck.

You instantly struggle in his hold but he wrapped his arms around you tight, tight, tight.

He snickered at your misfortune, “don’t think you could trick me, little hunter, I saw you eyeing out the club weeks before finally presenting yourself on a platter. Thorough aren't you?"

Spiteful, you clenched the dagger hidden in the garter belt and stabbed right through the meat of his thigh. He growls at the pain, face contorting more demon-like. Vampires were good at hiding their true forms unless presented with silver.

You sprung yourself from his lap as he cradled the wound. Him refusing to feed came to bite him as the wound would take longer to heal. Cursing yourself for only having a dagger, you raised your fists in self-defense. You were so worried about the attention a gunshot would bring, you forgot how useless a dagger would be.

Inching towards the door away from the three vampires, you braced yourself. "I will kill you all.”

Kazutora giggled, "how boring." He looked at you as if you were a kitten hissing.

Your face twitches at the taunt.

Still cradling his thigh, Baji’s voice cut through the room, "how about let's make this a game. I will give you five minutes to make it out of the club. Do so and I will let you leave. If I find you, though, little hunter, you're mine. My eternal."

Your eyes widen at the proposition. You will not become a vampire's pet.

Weighing your options, you seethed, "fuck you."

He simply pouted before grinning, "tick tock, you now only have 4 and an half minutes left.”

Even if you didn't want to play he was going to force you. You looked at the three vampires before you. Baji elated, Kazutora bored and Chifuyu looked almost concerned, but you knew it was falsely placed.

You ran out the room with the haunting cackles calling after you. How naive of you to think these creatures were any different. They will always satiate their hunger before anything else. Gluttons, the lot of them.

Sprinting down the intimate, winding corridors, you were confident in your escape. You memorized the path over the week, knowing it would come to this. But before you were even in the vicinity of the stairwell, you felt woozy.

The red walls blending together, the hues likened to meat more than plaster and wallpaper. Shaking your head, you steeled your teeth. The fucker put something in your drink.

You weren't going to be shackled to him no matter what. Leaning against the walls, you try to hurry away from the private rooms and down to where the population was. Hopefully you could slip away as easily as you planned before. It be damned if you were punished by the higher ones for failing this mission, you weren't going to lose your autonomy to a vampire of all things. You rather lose the eye you sure were going to. The repentment was always a high price.

Willing yourself to push forward, you kept your weight against the wall. If you played your cards right—and stayed awake—you could possibly make it out of this alive. He did say he would give you five minutes. Despite this, with the drug pumping through your veins, time slowed. Every muscle in your body was sluggish. Clutching onto the blooded dagger, you tread on. The one thing you had was your stubbornness and you let that fuel your heavy bones.

There had to be a reason you lasted this long, especially with spending most of it alone. You were built to endure. And endure you must if you truly don’t want to become a vampire's eternal.

Brain swimming, you made it to the stairs. Almost there, you reassured yourself. Once you make it to the crowd, your scent and form would disappear into the pool of bodies. Surely, Baji would lose you like a bloodhound presented with too many stimuli. Hope was all you could cling on for now.

Trying your best to forgo the fuzziness, you race down the stairwell back into the forsaken hallway that started this all. You were almost there, all you needed to do was exit the winding corridor. You would crawl back from the mouth of hell.

A chuckle bellowed in the deserted space. Speak of the devil.

At the top of the stairwell was the very last creature you wanted to see. Stood before was the very vampire that damned you. Smugness reeked from his posture. His hair was tied back. Doom settled in your belly.

“Hard to focus, huh?” He mocked.

You sneered. Even if he caught sight of you, this morbid game of hide and seek was not done until you decided so.

Adrenaline pumping ever faster, you ripped open a door not too far from you. Slamming it closed and locking it, you ignored the screaming of a woman. On a couch very similar to the one upstairs was a woman with a vampire drinking from her wrist.

“Get the fuck out!” The vampire sneered, her body shielded the woman. How sweet.

“Don’t let him in,” was all you replied.

This room also had no window, though there was a door to the right. You swung open to see it was another room just like this one. Must be a safety precaution. Doesn’t matter, all that does is that you can use this to your advantage. You will just room hop until you reach as close as you can to the exit.

Baji slammed against the door of the room you had just left. Not tempting fate and not wanting him to know you knew all the rooms were connected, you jumped over the couch to the next door.

You opened and once again you were met with nothing. Sighing in relief, surely if another person kicked up a fuss Baji would instantly pinpoint your location. Dagger in hand, you barged into room after room. The repetition of decor flashed in front of you like a fever dream.

After what could have been the tenth door you were met with a deadend. This must be the last room in the hall. Inhaling as much as you could, you open the door to the hallway. You were met with nothing and the red lights poured into the hall. Just as you were about to leave the room, a hand grabbed your lower face and pulled you backwards. A scream caught in your throat as the door was pushed shut. Slammed into a tall, freezing body, you struggled.

How the fuck were you caught? You were careful, this wasn’t fair.

The body wrapped their arm around your waist and hauled you further into the room until you both collapsed onto the couch. Sat upon the lap of the very vampire you wanted far from you, you dug your nails into the skin of his arm. He simply squeezed you tighter.

“Guess you lost, little hunter.” His tone was condescending and amused.

No, no, you weren’t done. This wasn’t over until you decided it was. The forgotten dagger was quick to dig into the meat of the arm binding you to him. He growled in pain. The hand clutching your lower face, moved its grip to slam your head against the arm of the couch. Your brain wobbled in your skull. Blood gushed from your nose. Everything was in a daze.

Baji ripped the dagger that poked from the other side of his forearm. You were sure you nicked yourself, but it was worth it. He threw your only weapon far from the both of you.

He leaned over you and gripped you by your throat. “You brat.”

You laughed in his face. You had definitely sealed your fate as rage built in those molten eyes, but the satisfaction was worth the penalization.

“You content with yourself?” He mocked, and as you laughed harder, something in him shifted.

In those golden irises, mischief crept in. Baji never liked prey that rolled over and let him devour. The best part of a meal is the anticipation.

Still clutching your fragile throat, he leaned down and licked the blood that pooled from your nose down to your lips. A moan left him as his nails grew sharper and the teeth in his mouth stretched. Feeding was always a vulnerable time for vampires as their true forms manifested. Still beautiful, but oh so haunting. Black veins spidered from his under eyes as his mouth became a darker hue.

“You are absolutely divine.” The words were meant to flatter, but you recoiled. Baji saw the fear start to build. “Now don’t be like that. I won’t hurt you, unless you want me to.”

“Get off me!”

He pressed his body further into yours, his cold meshing with your warmth. The chase had left you heated and your body almost craved the ice he gave.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun, little hunter. Your kind are always the adrenaline junkies. Can’t say I can judge, though.”

You sniped at him, “yes, running for my life was very thrilling.”

“That's the spirit!” He laughed. This damned vampire was insane.

You squirmed, wanting him off you. Your arms still freed, you slapped and hit what you could, but it was useless. Baji easily gathered your wrists into one hand and pinned them to the arm of the couch. His weight pressed further into you. His legs, he pried yours apart so he could slot your crotch to his. There was no way you could escape his hold now.

Exhausted, you don’t know if you even want to. The drugs still haven’t left your system.

Baji nosed the side of your neck as he did the past week. “See, it doesn’t have to be hard. Just give in to me and you will never have to worry again.”

The words were tempting, but how can you believe the words of a forked tongue beast?

Still seeing you hesitating, Baji pushed more, “it can’t be a great life as a hunter. You spend your days in solitude, in fear of your Higher Ones. With me, you will no longer be afraid.”

You furrowed your brows, his words were too accurate. “How do you know that?”

“I have watched you for so long, my dear hunter. You can say I’m a picky eater.”

Of course, he had been stalking you, why would you think anything else? “Get off. Get off!”

Baji’s thumb stroked right where your carotid artery is, entranced of the blood flowing under the flesh. He stopped listening to your defiant quips. The vampire forgot how long it had been since he fed and he has his meal right under his thumb. He wanted you to be more willing about this, but if he must be mean, he will.

Moving his thumb so it dug into your jawbone, he tilted your head to the right. Baji licked your neck before diving in. A screech bubbled in your lungs when he bit down. His teeth were needles and the more he sank in, the more agony spread throughout your body. Your feet kicked in instinct. God, it fucking hurt but as he gulped down your rosy life essence, your body became pliant.

His saliva finally hit your system, endorphins clouded your mind. These happy chemicals dimmed the pain and how he was draining you of all your worth. Your screams ebbed into tiny whimpers.

Seeing you had calmed down, Baji pulled away from your neck and licked the blood that fell from the open wound. Falling into blood lust, Baji grew hard from your noises and the taste of you. A warmth grew in his tummy. He needed you and he needed you, now.

He dragged himself from your body until his knees hit the ground. You were too blissed out from the blood lost to refuse him. Taking advantage of that, Baji pulled your pants and panties off you. Despite his hunger, he was gentle with how he undressed you. The vampire wanted to savor you.

He took your shoes off as well so you were completely bare for him. Groaning, he spied how slick collected on your slit from the endorphins and fear. Taking your right leg and placing it on his shoulder, he kissed your calf. He slathered you with open mouth kisses until he reached your inner thigh.

You whined at how he teased you. The build up was making you clench around nothing. Your clit throbbed, begging to be stimulated in any way.

Baji laughed at your impatience. He kept up kissing your inner thigh, switching to the other side to give it the same amount of attention. Dragging his teeth gently over the skin, you whimpered when his breath hit your cunt. You bucked. He took his other hand and splayed it on your tummy to hold you down.

“Patience.”

You kicked him and he scowled at you. The endorphins were wearing off faster than he wanted. Baji went back to your right thigh, so close yet so far from your cunny, he placed another kiss. Before he bit down once again. Your eyes shot up from the half-mast and you gasped in pain. Baji was quick to remedy the pain and licked you. A moan left you when he drank from you again.

It was borderline addicting how your life was drained from you. The familiar sluggishness crept back up. No wonder people were feeds. To stay in this cloudy sensation was heavenly.

Baji parted from your thigh and finally licked your pussy. Blood was smeared over you as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You yelped at the attention. He laughed into you. The vibration of his mouth sent more pleasure down your spine. He pulled off your clit to drag his tongue from the bud down to your hole. The appendage dipped in, testing the waters. Bucking up again, or at least attempting to, Baji took that as to keep going.

And keep going did he. Nose deep, he kept tonguefucking you. It was an odd sensation but not unwelcome. His tongue was more dexterous than fingers. He twisted against your walls. Pulling his tongue out, you whined but he was quick to shut you up by taking your clit back in his mouth. The constant attention was becoming too much.

Finding purchase, your hands gripped the one holding your hips down. He welcomed the contact as he kept pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It was unfair how good he was at this.

“Please, please!” You begged. At this point for more or for him to stop, you didn’t know. It was just too much.

His tongue flicked against the swollen bud as his hand dipped down to split you open with two fingers. The intrusion was almost enough, you just need more. Moans poured out. The stuttering of your chest and the shake of your thighs was enough of a tell to Baji. Ending your misery, he sucked your clit in his mouth as he curled his fingers just right.

Ringing in your ears was all you could hear as you fell apart for the creature you swore you would end tonight. Tears bubbled up at how overwhelmed you were. Baji gave a few more licks and pumps to slowly bring you down from your orgasm. Like he cut all the strings from you, you flop further into the couch.

Oversensitive, you whined when he took his fingers from you and pulled away from your thighs. Blood coated his lower face along with your slick. Your face almost steamed from the humiliation. Still kneeling, he kept eye contact as he brought his fingers to his lips, coated just the same as his face. He dragged his tongue from his palm up to the underside of his appendages.

A wicked gleam flicked in his now ruby eyes, “here, you have a taste.”

He crawled back up to crowd and pin you against the couch. Without poise, he shoved his fingers into your mouth. You gagged at the intrusion and the taste of your own blood and cum. Though still high on the happy hormones, you sucked on his fingers. Maybe if you clean him, he will release you of the taste. “Fuck,” he breathed, slack jawed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You kept his gaze, eyes bleary. That was enough for Baji. He pulled out from your mouth and sat back up. Impatient, he flicked up the button of his black jeans along with the zipper. The vampire couldn’t take it anymore. He had to be in you. From what he gathered tonguefucking you, you were warm and tight.

He tugged down his pants and boxers with the crass he lacked when he undressed you. His cock was heavy as it flopped out from the constricting material. Baji sighed in relief. His cock was pretty. It was about average length but it was thick. His pubes were untamed and you squirmed at how it would feel against your already overstimulated clit. Precum drooled from the head.

Thank fuck he opened you up or else you don’t think you could handle it with no prep. Baji gathered your arms again. Now filled with your blood, Baji was warm, hot. With his free hand, he lined himself up to your twitching hole.

With no warning, he breached your slit. You groan at how the head bullied its way inside you. Baji followed the noise as he forced his hips further. The drag of his cock against your almost reluctant walls was having you see stars.

He went back to wrapping a hand around your throat, fingers almost meeting at the back of your neck. Baji was so much bigger and stronger than you. He was just a tall man in general, but as he hovered over you with his hips smooshed against yours, you melt at how he engulfs you.

Buried to the hilt, the vampire brings his mouth back to your throat, the wound still throbbed.

“So good,” he slurred.

At that he started his rhythm. He pulled his hips back until only his cockhead was in you. You whined at being almost empty again. He shushed you. Right when he slammed in, he bit down on your throat, a lower place than before. You screamed.

“T-too much!” you cried.

“You can take it.”

Baji ignored your pleas as he fucked into you like a piston. He was using you like a cocksleeve. His pace was thorough and hard. His cock was filling you up in ways you never had before. It was like he was trying to mold your cunny to the shape of his cock.

Baji kept gulping down your blood until you were fuzzy again but this time it was from the blood loss. If he kept drinking from you, you might actually pass out.

You clenched down at the thought. Would he still keep fucking into you even if you were unconscious? A sick part of you wanted him to. So drunk off him, you wanted to be used by him in any way he needed. Why were you so set on killing him only hours ago?

Fuck, maybe you were dying. What a whorish way to go out.

Baji squeezed on your wrists as he lost his rhythm.

“I’m close, fuck, you are divine. Your blood and your pussy. You were built just for me, my eternal.”

A sense of foreboding tried to dig into your consciousness but you were so focused on how you were right that his pubes digging into your clit was too much. Almost to your end as well, you canted your hips in tandem to his.

“More, more,” you pleaded. More of what? You had no clue.

Baji did know what you needed as he pressed his hand further into your throat, squeezing the sides to cut off blood flow to your brain. That was enough for you to clench down so hard that Baji growled. As your cunt fluttered around him, the vampire bit further into the juncture of your shoulder until teeth almost met teeth. You screeched at the pain and Baji’s hips stuttered as he came deep in you. Him filling you has that same ringing blind you.

You came right after him as he kept thrusting his hips into yours, not ready to leave your warmth. The strain of cumming left you limp in Baji’s grasp. Pulling his teeth from your throat, he saw the mess he left of your neck. It was as if you were mauled by a wolf rather than the vampire before you.

You were losing blood fast and no matter how much Baji licked your wounds, it wouldn’t take back all the blood he took from you. Releasing the hand from your neck, he ripped open his own wrist so the life he stole from you and cycled through his undead heart poured from him.

He brought the bleeding arm to your mouth, “drink,” he commanded just as he did earlier tonight.

With no way to resist, you drank. You drank until your belly was filled with his blood that was once yours. Letting go of your bound hands, you cradled the wrist as you swallow all you can, desperate. This was likened to drinking liquid candy.

“Enough.”

Baji pulled his arm away as you whined, missing the taste. Your chin was drenched with blood just as him. Slowly your wounds started to close and your missing blood was replenished. Despite this, you still were in an endless fog.

The vampire leaned back on the other end of the couch and gathered you in his arms. He rested your weary head on his plush pectoral. Whatever drive you had was gone. You wanted to stay in his arms forever. Eternally.

network: @tokyometronetwork

#yandere baji #yandere baji x reader #yandere x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yander tokrev x reader #yandere #yandere baji keisuke #tokyo revengers smut #viruses #dark.web

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ridhearts · 3 years ago

Text

VAMP AU - basics iii.

Interested in the Octavinelle Coven? Be careful...it’s never wise to poke your nose in vampire business unaware, but dealings with these vampires never end in the favor of the human.

CW: blood, death, stalking/hunting, religious imagery, dark/obsessive/possessive characters. this au is not NSFW, but it does deal with darker content and sometimes discusses sensuality and sensual topics. reader discretion is advised.

Dorm-Specific CW: murder

overview. ❧ heartslabyul. savanclaw. {octavinelle.} scarabia. pomefiore. ignihyde. diasomnia.

The Octavinelle Coven has a powerful hold over the human realm, though nobody knows of their influence by name. They tend to live in urban coastal areas, thriving off of the drunkards and gamblers and other impulsive nightlife within the cities. Their coven head hasn’t changed for years and years and years, so long ago that nobody really gives much thought as to how they came to power and who they are. The Octavinelle Coven is one of the covens that is very loose with the internal sense of belonging. Vampires associated with Octavinelle usually either have a strong affinity for hypnosis or telepathy…..or maybe they’re just really, really smart and persuasive?

Usually these vampires use feeding as a threat for their “deals” or to send messages to people and groups they don’t like. A lot of Octavinelle Coven members have human friends that have offered to be their blood source, or they just rob a blood bank once in a while.

༻ ✞ ✟ ✞ ༺

Azul Ashengrotto - Blood Oath

Azul is the leader of his coven, though his charges are mostly left to their own devices. They know better than to try and strike deals with him, so nobody ever asks him of much, and if they’re summoned, they know it means trouble. Some work for him, of course, but the relationship is strictly professional.

He pretends he is a true vampire, as there are few ways to tell if somebody is lying, but in reality he was turned long, long ago. This is a source of great embarrassment to Azul, as he feels it would undermine all of his work. (It wouldn’t, at least, definitely not in the human realm, but even as a vampire Azul’s still got some issues rip) Only Jade and Floyd know this about him.

Azul was turned as a result of a few vampires looking to turn some new allies. As a human he was weak, and he couldn't fight off a vampire on his own, let alone four. After turning him, they made him follow their orders, sure he would never be able to one-up them and gain his own independence. Of course, Azul is a spiteful, clever being, one that should never be underestimated.

As a turned vampire, Azul's magic should be weaker than a true vampire's. However, he spent centuries mastering every craft he could get a textbook or a mentor for, and now he's one of the most powerful vampires around.

He met Jade and Floyd shortly after freeing himself from the vampires that turned him, still determined to make sure nobody could ever make a fool of him in the ways they did again. The twins, who freshly inherited a certain side business of “their father,” thought Azul would be fun to play with and offered to help him become the coven head of Octavinelle. They only wanted to be his right- and left-hand men in exchange…and teasing privileges.

The coven has a front of a rooftop night lounge, one of the most iconic and influential places in the city Azul resides in. It also serves as the coven “headquarters,” and are where coven members are summoned if they need to be dealt with. The lounge menu and infrastructure are safe for both vampires and humans - but it’s an unspoken rule that it’s not really a safe place for humans in the long run. Good thing the city is full of thrill seekers.

If you find yourself having fallen into the lion’s den, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to completely withhold a way out. He remembers how it felt to be as helpless as you are right now, so he’ll throw you a bone. But you can never get something for nothing, and Azul is far stronger than he used to be…just don’t cross him when he’s already giving you the chance of a lifetime, or else you might find yourself bound to him for eternity.

༻ ✞ ✟ ✞ ༺

Jade Leech - Blood Brothers, part i

There is an extremely rare occurrence in which the magical flow of the universe ebbs for just a moment, and a perfect equilibrium is achieved throughout all realms and mediums that use magic. Jade was “born” in this moment a long time ago to a Vampire that wished for a prodigy and, in a dire situation, a successor.

Eventually his father became infatuated with a human, and, as Jade grew into maturity, his father ordered him to hunt this human down. He was told where she lived, and that she had a son - Jade was ordered to get rid of this child and take her back, alive, at all costs.

Jade was more than capable of completing the job, but when he got to the city and found the family of two, he was hit with a…feeling. He began to follow the woman’s child, Floyd, around - one who was about his same “age,” and looked strikingly similar to him - before realizing that he and this human understood each other on a wavelength that he could tell was special. Immediately, he decided to turn Floyd, using a ritual that would bond the two of them as brothers for eternity. Instead of hiding away and taking care of this fledgling until he reached maturity, the two of them found the woman and Floyd fed on her. Together, they hunted Jade’s “father” and eventually took him down, as well.

Jade took over his father’s “business,” which is exactly as it sounds in canon and deals with both humans and vampires. Jade doesn’t go out onto the field unless he’s bored, though. Still, with a life as long as his…the amount of “trouble” he’s gotten himself into is still substantial. You’re best off not asking about it.

He was interested in Azul for multiple reasons, mainly because he saw it as an easy allyship (and a fun person to tease). Azul was hellbent on making sure those who wronged him now answered to him - so why not make all Octavinelle vampires answer to him? It’s all too easy for an eternal creature to get complacent, but Azul seems to have a never-ending supply of willpower. He’s formidable in any form, and it’s even better to see how far he can get when the right buttons are pressed.

Jade doesn’t mind his work for Azul. After all, it’s the most efficient way to witness all kinds of people in the lounge. And so many shady deals go down within the booths and dim lighting…it’s fascinating to watch as humans and vampires alike walk into blatantly laid traps, or how they try to wriggle out of one.

So if he finds you fascinating, you best watch your back. Jade is an expert manipulator, and frequently seeing him out of the corner of your eye is almost worse than having to answer to him head-on. Don’t be so scared! He’ll be gentle with his favorite little human…but if you knew how he treated others, that might not be saying much…

༻ ✞ ✟ ✞ ༺

Floyd Leech - Blood Brothers, part ii

Floyd was born on that same rare moment of magic harmony that Jade was, but with a catch - he was born much later, and he was born a human. However, Jade’s “father” had imprinted on Floyd’s mother, not quite in love with her, but obsessed.

Throughout his entire life, Floyd felt disconnected from the people around him. He was always more sensitive to his environment, too. While his propensity for mood swings is just part of him, he always found himself in a worse mood around summer time and during the day. He thought himself stronger and faster than most of the people around him, too. Eventually, he got wrapped up with a bunch of shady folk (who he would eventually learn were the more casual members of the Octavinelle coven) and lived a sort of half-human, half-vampire lifestyle.

As soon as he met Jade, he knew Jade was a vampire. But he also knew that the two of them got along better than anybody else, and that there was a certain kinship they shared that he couldn't describe (not that he was particularly motivated to). When Jade proposed turning him, Floyd didn't need to think about it before agreeing. When he had his first feeding, he felt more apathy than distress. Perhaps it was his soul leaving his body in the turning, or how he was bonded to Jade. Although, he had a feeling he'd stick with Jade no matter HOW he was turned…

Floyd is supposed to work in the lounge with his brother, but more often than not he’s roaming the streets, either in search of trouble or in search of blood. As a result of his frequent outings, he’s usually called on when there’s a turned vampire who needs a supply of blood, STAT. However, he gets bored with sitting there and letting them drink all the blood he worked so hard to get. When he pulls away, they’re willing to do almost anything to get to be able to finish drinking. These fledglings are such desperate fools…

Floyd doesn’t get why Azul is so bent out of shape about being a turned vampire. He’s turned, after all, and look how much cooler he is! This is a major point of contention between the two (read: Floyd teases Azul about this relentlessly. It’s a wonder nobody’s found out that Azul’s not the true vampire he claims to be with how incessant he is about it.)

If his history is anything to go by, Floyd knows when he likes something and when it’ll stick. He’s been with Jade and Azul for centuries, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever leave! So, if he happens to take a liking to you, your fate is as good as decided. However, Floyd’s never minded a bit of a chase, so be sure to make this one fun, mmkay?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #vamp au #octavinelle vamp

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