#missing Skyrim quiet a bit

[rosiegames]

first time back on the game in like a week… it’s the most sociable/unmuted I’ve been (for quiet a few games actually) 🫡

[sheeshiki]

wanted to have one last good look at my darling before the servers went down. quick little pose an hour before maintenance. see you soon!!

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday-!! 💛

So, today's WIP is, as with last time, from the next chapter of The Perfect Storm. I've tried to dip my toes into writing some action, some violence, as Elyse and Lydia clear Fort Greymoor. It's not something I'm used to writing so I'm admittedly a bit nervous sharing it, but it's something I'm wanting to practice as action is going to gradually start picking up in the fic. It's going to be under the read more. 😊

Tagged for WIPs recently by @hircines-hunter, @bostoniangirl21 and @skyrim-forever

Tagging @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn, and anyone who wants to share a WIP, but no obligations to share anything if you don't want to! <3

---------

Elyse quickly stepped to the side as an axe cut through the air beside her, before turning as quickly as she could and catching the bandit’s torso with her sword. Much to her chagrin, it seemed to do little more than aggravate them beyond leaving a trail of blood across their chest. In retaliation, they threw their axe to the ground, and made the most of the little distance between them and grab her arm and pull it behind her back, forcing her to dispel her blade. Another arm wrapped itself about her neck, and led to the bandit laughing as she stopped focussing on her other weapon.

For a brief moment, panic set in, memories of what had happened in the past almost paralysing her. However, it was their next remark which helped her fight through the building fear.

“The little Dragonborn is nothing without her fancy weapons! Hah!”

 Her brow furrowed, before letting out a quiet laugh.

No, she didn’t need a ‘fancy weapon’ at all.

Her free hand was quick to reach for the dagger which she had concealed at her hip, and before her assailant could even realise what she was doing, she had quickly stabbed at them, her blade embedding itself deeply between their ribs. A staggered gasp escaped their lips as their grasp momentarily tightened, before she found herself being released.

A shaky exhale escaped her as she then turned around, and retrieved her dagger as they lurched backward, then fell onto the ground with a pained groan.

After wiping the blood off the dagger, she sheathed it once more and conjured her swords yet again.

She needed to be more conscious of her surroundings.

As she began to look to see where any more of the bandits were, she heard a desperate cry from atop the walls of the fort, and turned her head in that direction just to witness another of the bandits falling to Lydia’s arrows.

Good. They were making progress.

Rapid footsteps began approaching her from one of the fort’s doors at that point, so she turned around and ducked down as a sword swung in her direction. It narrowly missed the top of her head, but failing to make an impact made them stumble and lose their footing. She took advantage of that as she stood up straight, and slashed at them with her own swords. She managed to draw blood from their arm, which resulted in her being cursed out. That distraction to yell cost them greatly, as the next place her sword struck was their leg, sending them crashing to the ground mere feet from the other she had killed. There was no way that they would be able to get back up after that.

She momentarily closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply.

This was for Whiterun. Many of their number had escaped prisons, escaped the law. They had already killed dozens. It wasn’t that she was killing these criminals because she could, this was a matter of safety, a matter of life and death for anyone who passed through the hold. She needed to do this.

She re-opened her eyes, a renewed vigour as she glanced around to see what was left to clear the fort. She could count… seven more people, though she was uncertain as to whether any more were hiding inside. She doubted it, but it would still be worth a search through when everyone outside were dealt with.

She could do this.

[argisthebulwark]

Severed Ties Part Two: Why You Came Back

summary: Time heals all wounds and somehow, you will find your way back to each other. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. Part One: Why You Left feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Erandur, Teldryn, Vilkas, Farkas, Rune, Arnbjorn warnings: none, bit longer than usual.

Between all your duties and missing Brynjolf, it took time to find a comfortable rhythm. There was no escaping each other even after you put an end to your romantic involvement, only breaks coming in the form of jobs halfway across Skyrim. Through everything you worked together to get the Guild back on its feet. You entrusted Brynjolf solely with its care when Nocturnal came calling, reminding you that the Skeleton Key’s rightful place was in her temple.  The Twilight Sepulcher drained your body and soul. Exhaustion sapped at your strength when you shuffled out, unsure how you were going to get back to the inn. Riften was another beast entirely. Chilly fingers shook at the prospect of your bed being so far away, ready to risk it all for a short nap in the forest.  Brynjolf was planted a few paces away, hood thrown back and worry in his eyes. Your heart stopped at the sight. You’d never seen him so far from Riften. He took one cautious step as if you were a wounded animal, like you'd bolt if he came too close.  Collapsing into his arms felt like home. Strong arms carried you when your muscles failed, tears springing into your eyes when he tucked you safely into his chest. You gulped back the words you hadn’t said in ages when he buried his nose in his hair, turning to carry you home. He'd left all duties behind to be there for you when you needed him most. “I promise, love. Nothing’s gettin’ in the way of you and I again. Sorry it took me so long.”

Tales of Miraak’s reign of terror over Solstheim slowed, the island calming and hesitantly returning to its normal life. It had been years since you’d left Apocrypha and you could only hope that he’d found the answers he’d wanted so badly or at least some form of peace. The last memory of him still pained you but you’d never forget it - robes wrinkled where he crouched over the ancient desk, eyes wild and fingers stained with dark ink.  Being back on Nirn was a blessing and a curse. You had settled quite easily into your life but there was a constant nagging need to hear every rumor about him, to keep up to date on what he was doing. Your home was comfortable but quiet, interrupted by a harsh knock on your door.  Seeing him again stopped your heart. His eyes were wide, blessedly free from the mania you’d come to know. The mask and gloves were gone, robes traded for simple armor. There he stood, the man who had forgotten you suddenly standing on your doorstep, that lovely voice saying words you’d craved to hear.  “I gave it all up. I gave up everything to stand here and ask you for another chance and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, My Dragon.” 

You didn’t recognize him in such normal, simple clothes. Erandur, who lived in robes befitting a priest and Mara’s regalia, took the empty seat across from you in the tavern. His fingers quivered when he offered you a hand, hope bright in his eyes when he introduced himself.  “I had to come over here, I couldn’t stop staring. You’re stunning.” His attempt to sound nonchalant sent a nervous giggle bubbling out of you. “Can we put the past behind us and start over?” “Start over?” You didn’t release his hand and he didn't pull away, heart swelling when you saw his smile. All else was forgotten when you felt Erandur’s tattooed fingers climbing up your wrist.  “I am just a man who very badly wants to kiss someone he saw across the crowded tavern. Nothing more.” 

A compromise. That’s what he’d proposed. Teldryn sat at your table, eyes sparkling when he took in the house you’d built. It was far from the bustling cities, trees insulating you from the noise of nearby farms. After parting from Teldryn it had become a safe haven from the rest of the world. You’d never admit that building it with your own hands was fueled mostly by spite.  He’d come with apologies and offers mingled together in a practiced speech. Some time at home, some on the road, all of it spent together. It was unsettling how easily you trusted him again after all the time spent apart. His helmet rested on the table when Teldryn met your eyes and for the first time he looked unsure of what to say. His mouth opened, closing again and you caught a glimpse of that annoyed furrow between his brows you’d missed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to settle down in one place, but I could get used to this slow life with you. For a while.”

Loving Vilkas was easy, you’d never truly stopped. Learning to be gentle with one another was difficult. You struggled to learn how to look past your relationship and see Vilkas as more than your partner, acknowledging his role in the Companions. He worked on seeing you as more than his Harbinger, viewing you as his partner once again. It was a slow process - taking breaks and setting boundaries, but he was worth it.  During the day you worked, creating healthier avenues for conversation. At night you were partners, nothing more. No work talk was allowed between dinner and breakfast. In those evenings you found one another again, softening and loving each other as you had so long ago.  “Remind me, Harbinger. Am I permitted to kiss you during working hours? Are we allowed to sit this close, or are you worried I’ll distract you?”

Breezehome had been yours before Farkas entered your life. It was your refuge during the evenings when you couldn’t bear Jorrvaskr’s halls or the memories they held. A cool breeze whipped through your hair when you walked home, masking his footsteps until he appeared at your side. Neither one of you said a word when he took your hand, falling in step with you and allowing you to guide him to your doorstep.  It didn’t happen all at once. Rather, it was small changes that slowly altered your life. It took work for Farkas to summon the confidence to live for himself, extracting his sense of self worth from the Companions. You reminded him that it was a balance, leaving wasn’t permanent. Dinners were often spent in Jorrvaskr before retreating to the peace of your home.  “I didn’t think I was anything more than a fighter. Didn’t think anyone would want me to be more.”

Each day felt like a new opportunity for growth. You watched Rune from a distance hoping that he would make peace with his past. You didn’t want him to give up but it was too painful to love someone who lived entirely in the mysteries of what could have been, as if you were only allowed to love part of him.  Luckily, Delvin and Vex had an endless catalogue of tasks that no one else wanted to complete. Jobs in other holds, jewelry to be stolen in Whiterun and planted on some poor sap in Solitude, the occasional trip to confer with the Dark Brotherhood. All the travel was good for your mind, allowing you time to think through everything far from him. Falling into your cot you stared up at the Cistern’s ceiling. Watery light from the early morning sun reminded you that you’d stayed up all night again. It had been difficult to sleep with Rune cramped into your tiny bed but without him the space felt too empty. His footsteps were silent when he knelt beside your bed, his warm hand on your shoulder the only warning that he was there.  “I’ll never give up, not entirely. But it isn’t worth losing you over. Just give me some time, please don’t forget about me.”

Arnbjorn consumed your every thought. Despite your best efforts to appear cool and indifferent you couldn’t take another moment. It was fairly easy to avoid him during the day, but every evening you struggled to not look at him through dinner. After all the others had left in search of bed or prepping for their assignment you found yourself alone with him, a few drinks deep and blood heating under the weight of his gaze. Too drunk to be embarrassed by the stumbling way you explained how badly you wanted to be loved by him again, how deeply you wanted him to love you. You didn’t want to be a replacement for the love he’d lost. Cheeks burning and tears spilling you gasped out the least graceful declaration of love and how much you missed him.  Your name on his lips had never sounded better. Soothing kisses and careful hands sufficed when words failed. You knew he wasn’t comfortable vocalizing softer emotions. Arnbjorn’s lips were on your forehead, fists balled into his armor when you dragged him closer.  “Just need you to trust me, okay? It’s only you. My past is my past, no changin’ it. I just need some time but I promise it’s only you.”

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

WIP whenever

Hello, everyone! I know updates are very slow, but life is absolutely draining me of my writing mojo most days. But!!! I did some writing, just in time for it to still count as a WIP Wednesday! And I've been tagged by the lovelies @bostoniangirl21 and @sheirukitriesfandom Thank you very much for the tags and for keeping me motivated with them <3!!! I must say that working on ch. 17 of WYGTYA is hard because it's by far the most serious, angst-filled thing I've written so far :(((

I'll tag @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @illumiera @thelavenderelf @blossom-adventures @nerevar-quote-and-star only if you want to participate, of course <3 <3 But enough rambles! I will share a bit from both fics under the cut! WYGTYA feels and banter with another appearance from that mysterious Akaviri swordsman in HOTHS! Enjoy!

Wherever you go, there you are, chapter 17:

~

The noise of the city was still dim, the people of the port already tuning in to either a night of much-needed sleep or raucous drinking at the taverns, and so the port is quiet, peaceful, the only sounds filling the air are the soothing waves of the Sea of Ghosts and the distant noises of the city ahead of them. Blacklight. Full of its magical charm and dancing lights and colourfulness. Ravonna’s steps falter because the air smells like home once again: it is not damp and moist like Black Marsh, nor is it the warm and flowery smells of Cyrodiil, nor the harsh, cold, yet fresh air of Skyrim. It smells like ash and sea salt and flavored tobacco from shishas and that distinct smell of cloth paint that Dunmer use. She can hear the faint hum of Red Mountain, the distant bards singing in taverns, the loud laughter of the people in the city and the soft, hushed giggles of sailors who cannot sleep but don’t want to wake their crew up and they’re all so frustratingly, Gods-damned oblivious to her thundering heart and the violent lightning strikes that hit her soul with each step, each breath, each second spent here again. Fuck, she should be happy, excited, but everything hurts and this bad feeling that something’s not right, that something’s missing won’t go away.

~

Hymn of the High Seas, chapter 3:

~

They settle cross-legged around the small coffee table, collectively thinking that this place was not built to host so many people. Renjiro runs outside with a spring in his step.

“Sooo… I think it’s safe to assume that this guy is a big fan of swords.” Signe speaks, earning a huff from Rhaim and a knowing smile from Arvyvel. 

“That makes two of us.” Rhaim says.

“Really? I always figured you'd be more of a -” she stops to gesticulate clawing and eating an enemy in beast form, “- kind of person, ya know?” 

He looks at her for a moment before bursting into deep, earth-grumbling laughter. “Careful, you might scare away our future crewmates.”

“Me? I’m absolutely elated.” Arvyvel says.

“And I still haven’t agreed to anything! I’m not going on some suicide mission!” Marc says, annoyed.

“Fine by me. We don’t need you anyway. Don’t need your kind among us.” Rhaim flares his nostrils and breathes out aggressively.

Before Marc can say anything back, a loud, obnoxious cough interrupts them.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I have to interrupt the tense moment. No fighting in this house.” Renjiro says, making his way to the table with two bottles of fresh sake. He tries to keep his calm demeanor and shove down the thoughts of ‘Yoshi will kill me if I made a mess in his absence.’

The men stop, not before glaring menacingly at each other one last time. Rhaim doesn’t like traitorous bastards and he could smell this guy’s traitorous bastard-ness from miles away. He scoots closer to Marc, turning his back to him and making Room for Renjiro between him and Signe. His eyes light up at the bottle of alcohol. The swordsman lays out five small glasses and fills them. Rhaim takes it quickly, his patience running out, taking a sip and closing his eyes to really feel the taste on his tongue, going down his throat. A pleasure grunt escapes him. It’s unlike anything he’s ever tasted: strong, but not too strong. Balanced, a cascade of flavors – a harmonious blend of sweet and dry alcohol warming his chest and his spirit.

“Fuck.” He breathes, opening his eyes, only to see everyone looking at him, with their glasses halfway up in a toast. He raises an eyebrow.

“Ye need a moment alone with that glass of booze?” Signe smirks.

~

Author's note: I could and probably *will* expand on the feelings of drinking sake because I literally found my new favourite drink in the year of our lord 2024.

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

"... How long have you been out here?" Ji'Ren looked up hearing a familiar voice, and as he'd expected Veezara was walking towards him.

"Not long, is Zane in the sanctuary?" He asked.

"No, but it has been a while so he should return soon... I hope." Veezara sighed, "It's hard to know with him, isn't it?" He sounded a tad worried.

Ji'Ren knew all too well. He'd known Zane since the Argonian first came to Skyrim, and he was near impossible to track. Ji'Ren was just thankful Zane's reckless streak gained after the sanctuary fire was temporary. He didn't have to worry about if he would find his friend or word of his death first anymore.

"Ji'Ren is sure he will return soon." He assured his friend.

"..." Veezara seemed to be contemplating something, "... It is awfully cold out here."

"That is true."

"Do you want to come inside?"

Ji'Ren stared at him for a moment, "Would your coworkers be okay with that?" Last time he was inside the sanctuary, most of its inhabitants did not seem too keen on the idea.

"You are a friend, I cannot stand to see you sitting out here in the snow. Come inside and warm up."

Ji'Ren considered for a moment, "Is Nazir there?"

"Yes, he's cooking, I believe."

At that he got up, "Ji'Ren is going to annoy the shit out of him." He got up and followed Veezara towards the door.

"Maybe, don't?"

"He spent three hours in Winterhold when Ji'Ren hid him from the guards telling the worst jokes imaginable. Ji'Ren is going to be so annoying."

"Ji'Ren." Veezara sighed.

"If it truly bothered you you wouldn't let this one inside the sanctuary." They both knew Ji'Ren was right.

When he got inside he saw Nazir, as mentioned by the cooking pot, and walked right over like a man on a mission. A very quiet man on a mission.

This was either going to be so funny or a very efficient way to die.

He waited until he was right behind Nazir to speak.

"What are you making?"

Several things happened very quickly.

Nazir reached for his dagger.

Ji'Ren barely dropped in time to dodge it.

And in the process he knocked Nazir's legs out from under him.

A swift yank of the redguard's clothes barely stopped him from landing on the cooking pot he'd been using, instead changing his trajectory to falling onto the Khajiit who'd startled him.

Instead of getting up he held Ji'Ren, who was laughing hysterically, down by the shoulders, clearly only one of them found this amusing.

"What is wrong with you?! How are you even in here?!"

"Your face was priceless!"

"I could have killed you, you utter moron!"

"Hah! You wish!" Ji'Ren grinned, Nazir's anger only making this funnier to him.

"Who let you in this time, anyway?" Finally he got up, still glaring at Ji'Ren.

"Ji'Ren is sure you would like to know." He taunted as he rose and brushed himself off.

"Yes, I would. Outsiders aren't permitted into the sanctuary... Is there snow in your fur?"

"It is snowing outside." Ji'Ren replied nonchalantly. Nazir stared at him for a moment, before sighing.

"Sit." He pointed next to the fire, "I should chase you right back out, don't make me regret this."

"Only as much as Ji'Ren regretted sheltering you when you needed it." He taunted, that grin still present. Nazir glared at him.

"First of all, unlike you I'm hilarious, second, I didn't need your help."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Nazir apparently decided not to grace that with a response, instead turning back to his cooking.

"What are you cooking?" Ji'Ren asked again, it smelled amazing.

"Stew."

"How descriptive."

"Not much more to it, some meats, some veggies, some broth." Nazir shrugged, "It's stew."

"Fair." Ji'Ren paused before, "... Zane mentioned that you were from Hammerfell, are there foods from your home you miss?" He glanced up at him in idle curiosity. His grip on the spoon tightened a bit.

"Do you miss the food of Elseweyr, Khajiit?" There was more venom in the response than Ji'Ren had expected. To him it had seemed a simple question.

"... Ji'Ren does." He said, "This one's mother used to make sweet gnocchi for guests, when Ji'Ren was young he would sneak into the kitchen to take some when nobody was looking." He smiled at the memories, bittersweet as they were.

"... Did she teach you how to make it for yourself?" Nazir asked, the earlier annoyance lessened at the information Ji'Ren had volunteered.

"Yes but... Ji'Ren could never quite make it like she could." He sighed, "She was a wonderful cook."

"Is she dead?"

"No, but it is for the best if this one never sees her again."

"... That must be difficult." Nazir's voice had gone quiet.

"... Did you learn to cook from your mother?"

"... No. My father." He paused, before, "... He is dead... By my own hand." Ji'Ren noticed the pause, the emotion in his voice.

Regret? Or guilt?

"... You must have had your reasons."

"That's what you think? I'm a cold hearted assassin, how do you know I didn't strike him down just to do it?" Because suggesting the concept made him sound as if he may cry.

"It is not an easy life that turns one's blade towards their own blood." Ji'Ren knew that far better than most. "Whatever the circumstance, Ji'Ren is sure it is not as open and shut as that."

Nazir's eyes shone with emotions for a moment. He looked as if he was struggling to find words.

The door to the sanctuary opened. Ji'Ren heard the skeever before its owner, but sure enough-

"Scritch what do you have in your mouth-that skull is decor, give it back." Zane was here.

Ji'Ren got up, and turned to Nazir, "Ji'Ren does have business to attend to." He paused before, "It was wonderful learning how easy it is to sneak up on a dark brotherhood assassin, however!"

"You little-"

"Farewell!"

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @bardandbear 

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Interview with Kes

Kes and Dema talk DA homecoming, tragic plotlines, and inlfuencing you (yes you!) to buy a [redacted]

Dema: As an artist who creates a lot for the Dragon Age fandom, what inspired you to start?

Kes: Well, I've always loved stories and fantasy, but I wasn't really able to get into the visual (gaming) side of things until I built my first PC with my dad when I was 15. The first thing I did was dump an extraordinary amount of time into Skyrim, and then I was recommended Dragon Age Origins as a similar game on Steam. I'd always been sort of arty but never people - Dragon Age Origins really changed that and I desperately needed to draw a bunch of the stories I'd imagined (and written) for my Warden. The reader/writer to artist pipeline if you will. The DA storytelling was like getting to read a book, but instead I could interact with it and see it. Totally changed the game for me.

Dema: Were you playing them as they came out?

Kes: I think that was a little bit after DAO came out, but I played DA2 and DAI on release

Dema: Have there been any lulls in your Dragon Age devotion, or has it remained pretty steady?

Kes: My interest built up steadily but I went properly unhinged around DAI's release and the 3ish years following. Adulthood was a good distraction in the hibernation period between Trespasser and DA4, and I actually foolishly thought I'd been reformed, then the DA4 news really started dropping and I've completely fallen for it all over again. It feels like coming home.

Dema: I'd love to ask what specifically about it feels like a homecoming 💖

Kes: Nothing since DAI and Trespasser has quite scratched the Dragon Age itch - that very specific combination of its exploratory lore, very unique takes on magic and world-building and the character complexity. I've spent the whole time hungry for more of Thedas and wanting to know what happened/what will come next, nothing could actually fill that void. Enough time made me sort of forget about the intensity of said Dragon Age itch but after the gameplay reveal I was like, oh yeah, this is what I have been missing.

Dema: Right?? I think it's the depth of the character development for me, in particular. Do you have a favorite character or plotline? Something you get your teeth into and want to shake like a dog?

Kes: Oh so many. I adore the loneliness and isolation and despair of the warden Mahariel questline, Alistair actually asking your Mahariel what the Dalish do to mourn their loved ones in a game that had up until that point largely ostracised her continues to alter my brain chemistry to this day. Morrigan and Flemeth's deeply troubled mother daughter relationship is always so meaty to dig into, every time they resurface I think we get more tragic layers. I think the evolving plot over what spirits are is probably my favourite in the series though, the way they interact with the world, what they've become vs what they were? Makes me insane actually.

Dema: I am losing my mind over that glimpse of Morrigan in the DA4 trailer. Since this is also an artist interview: did any visuals in the game particularly strike you? A demon's design, a location, an object, or something else? And related to that, is there something from DA that you particularly enjoy as an art subject?

Kes: Like basically every artist in the DA fandom I'm fairly sure the DAI tarot card art style changed me as a person. In general the progression from DA2's stylisation to the DAI stylisation I think is really lovely and I've been trying to incorporate some of that texture and movement and composition into every artwork I've done ever since. Surprising absolutely no one, I've actually really loved drawing DA elves, so many of them fit what I call the 'elf lines theory' where they have this very 'geometric' shape / proportions. I feel like Solas does this in the most exaggerated way because there's no distraction of hair, but all elves are my favourite to draw for this reason.

Dema: Do you have any tools you can't live without? 

Kes: Unsure if this is allowed because it might sound like a bit of a shill, but I would like to shout out my trusty tablet that I've had for almost a decade and I still love using. For anyone who has been a Wacom user their whole lives, I really urge you to try Huion tablets.

Dema: Not a shill, I for one love to know what other artists like using! When you're working on a collaboration like this, what does that process look like for you?

Kes: Generally I will read/watch something and an idea will really 'catch' me while I'm doing that which I want to draw. What's really fun about this collaborative process is getting access to the artist that inspired me to really pick their brain and test my ideas against their vision.

Dema: Oh that's exciting! How's your progress on the Bang piece? Are you feeling excited about it?

Kes: I think the challenge has been the story I'm trying to capture has a lot of really rich progression of character over a long period, so I've had a lot of different ideas I wanted to represent, and I had a lot of original concept ideas that I've sketched and combined and discarded and taken elements from. It's been an evolutionary process but I think I did finally get to turn a lot of those ideas into a cohesive main piece I'm really excited to see finished.

Dema: I am very excited to see it, too! Thank you for taking this time to be interviewed, Kes, it's been delightful.

Kes: No problemo!

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt4

Part 3 here

———

Wyrm: *whimpering softly and holding onto Ancanos arm trying to pull him away from his mouth so he can scream for his father. Utterly helpless as the high elf easily man handles the younger mer back into his bedroom, locking and warding the door with ease before forcing him into the chair by his desk* Right then, you’re going to sit there and we’re going to tal-

Wyrm: *tries to scream and gets his glove back over his mouth again, now looking up at him as he starts to cry, visibly afraid and upset, shocked that someone would assault him like this in his own home no less* m-mmph-

Ancano: Oh dear, shhh don’t cry now. I’m sorry I frightened you, but you haven’t been the most, open, to talking to me. So I figured perhaps a fair exchange would change your mind~ *holds up the gauntlets placing them on the young mers desk* You, get these. And in exchange, you talk to me, whenever, and wherever I want to talk. Deal~? *removes his hand*

Wyrm: *still frightened as he stares up at the much larger and physically stronger elf, but strangely calms down as he looks at the gauntlets, like a memory he can’t quite place has distracted his mind* j-just talk?…th-thats it?

Ancano: *suddenly takes his chin in his hand, making him turn his head and look at him* speak up, let me hear you…

Wyrm: *face flushing as fear begins to give way to confusion and a sudden shyness overcomes him* I-I- *tries to look away but can’t, the high elfs now seemingly charming presence too close to escape* y-you j-just want me to talk to y-you? And y-you’ll give me them? *closes his eyes tight, little tears pricking at the corner of his living one*

Ancano: my, what happened to that snappy little prince I spoke to a few days ago~ *gently thumbs the droplet away, swearing it had almost a rainbow sheen against his skin as he did so, like an oil slick over water*

Wyrm: *sniffles and pouts pulling away a little* th-that ‘snappy little prince’ w-wasn’t rudely awoken before sunrise and a-a-ac-c-costed in his own h-home b-before being man handled and cornered like a chi- child… *goes quiet as Ancano locks eyes with him again, his hand sliding up his cheek making him stare back at him*

Ancano: *smiles down at him, gently stroking his skin with his thumb as he takes in his features. The soft freckles on his nose, the slightly pink tint to his dark grey lips and cheeks, how his hair drapes over his quite literally delicate, and weak frame… How his sleeve slides off where his missing shoulder should be, showing off his swan like neck ever so slightly… and of course, his enchanted and enchanting Pearl eye… he was as beautiful as he was interesting. An enigma amongst all in skyrim… But ultimately he was still just a young, and naive elf. While nearing his 86th year to his naming day, he was mentally only a teenager in his 18th year by dunmeri standards. Young, coddled, careless, and easy to manipulate* I take it that’s a no, to my trade offer then?…

Wyrm: *so transfixed by his gaze and touch he didn’t even realise he’d spoken for a moment* I- what?… *looks at the gauntlets and audibly gasps as ancano turns his face back to his* I- I didn’t say no I just-

Ancano: *leans down slightly getting in closer to his face* need a bit more convincing?

Wyrm: f-for how long u-until the exchange is complete?…

Ancano: *smirks a little, holding back from his plan to kiss him immediately and overwhelm his poor little brain by overriding his emotions* Smart little Pearl aren’t you~? It seems nobody can get one over on you. Hmm… *lets him go and stands up fixing his posture as he adjusts his gloves* until my placement here is complete. They were rather expensive after all but, when I noticed how upset you were leaving Enthirs quarters, I felt it’d be worth the investment to make you smile again~

Wyrm: *visibly blushing at the compliment to his intelligence, falling for it easily and yet still skeptical about his wants to see him smile* see me smile again?…

Ancano: of course. You may only scowl when you see me, but I’ve seen you smile from afar plenty. I thought perhaps these might change that. It’s my job to ensure I interview everyone here for my reports and well. No judgment of course to the other occupants of this collage but, you are the most fascinating person within these walls. And I think it’ll take me quite a bit of time to get to know you~ so I felt these might help sway you a little.

Wyrm: *looks up at him then back at the gauntlets, just wanting to have them so badly and having no idea why* j-just talking. N-nothing else. *huffs* and n-no more scaring me like that! *pouts hugging his side*

Ancano: *chuckles and holds out his hand to him* I promise, so, we have a deal then~?

Wyrm: … *looks at the gloves one more time, then his hand before nervously taking it* deal…

Ancano: *smirks* Splendid. *brings his hand up to his lips giving it a soft kiss* I suppose I should leave before your father wakes. I doubt he’d be pleased seeing me in your room, alone, with you~ *winks playfully at him as he releases his hand from his grasp before walking to the door* I’ll come find you later on, little prince. *smiles and disarms the ward before stepping from the room, leaving the Pearl of the sea of ghosts sitting there, flustered and so confused*

Wyrm: *just staring at the door in silence, trying to process what just happened and not knowing what to think* … *looks to his newly acquired gauntlets, the want to put them on still there, but his mind now too occupied remembering the high elfs hands on him* … *gets up and walks to his bed, just flopping down onto it and hugging his pillow as he curls up into a ball, hiding his face*

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

During the fall of Riften, the cistern collapses.

Fortunately, by that point, most of the city (including the guild that lived under it) had escaped, evacuated, or were otherwise within there homes and safe.

The casualties were heavy on the Thalmor side, but much heavier on the Skyrim side. After so much fighting, so much death, Ulfric orders a retreat.

Eryn instantly argues, but is shot down. The Thalmor can take Riften today, but they need to live to fight another day to take it back, to protect the rest of Skyrim. But it's unlikely that the Thalmor will let anyone leave alive.

Eryn thinks for a moment, and then whispers "Mul... Qah... Diiv!". Instantly she is surrounded by the fiery glow of the dragons, by translucent scales and horns and wings. "I'll hold them off, and then meet back up with you." Eryn believes her words, she believes she will walk out of this alive.

Ralof tries to stop her. And while she doesn't have it in her heart to truly argue with him or even push him away, she does slowly pull away. "Galmar... I need a favor." She says, her new wings drooping just a bit with her heavy emotions.

Galmar instantly understands, Ulfric needs a moment, and then Ralof is the last person to realize what Eryn asked them to do. But Galmar and Ulfric combined both easily outarm Ralof, and can hold him back, can stop him from stopping Eryn.

Eryn disappears into the battle, getting all of the attention on her. She holds them off for as long as she can. But as her allies retreat, she is more and more surrounded and outnumbered. Still, she doesn't surrender. She stays in the middle of the town square, fighting everyone she can see.

The explosion under her takes out the last of her dragon aspect armor. The Thalmor had set off a bomb, which eventually chain reacted into the cistern collapsing. Eryn is shot up, her wings and tail and horns and scales disapate. She realizes now she has nothing to save her.

From a distance, Ralof sees the explosion. He almost screams, before Ulfric slaps a hand over his mouth so he doesn't give away their position. Ralof collapses, and Galmar resorts to just carrying him like an injured soldier.

"Odahviing!" Eryn has gotten into the habit of calling for him when she's in desperate situations. Maybe he'll catch her, maybe he'll be able to help. She watches him race through the sky, but not fast enough. The ground hits her all too fast.

A single pillar of light shines on her and the broken rocks around her. She is bleeding and broken, even if she had potions or the strength for a spell, she wouldn't be saved.

"Thuri," Odahviing manages to climb into the hole, trying to get close to her, trying to understand. "You called, I came."

Eryn is heaving, every limb is broken, her spine has snapped, but she still smiles at him. "Yes... stay."

"Who has done this to you? I shall destroy them." He speaks in his own tongue, he prefers to, knowing Eryn can understand him.

"Too late for that..." Eryn responds in her own tongue, she knows he can understand her just fine. Her voice is so quiet and small. "I'm dying, my friend." She smiles. "Viir maar, fahdon dii." She breathes in. "I don't want to be alone."

Odahviing curls up around the rubble, around Eryn. He can't understand it, not unless she uses that cursed shout on him. He can't understand a Voice that simply ends, especially not one as strong as hers. "How can I stop it?"

It's a simple question, perhaps even childish. But Odahviing is asking in earnest, wanting to know how to help her. She summons him when she needs help, so he should help.

"You can't." She rasps out. "Just stay with me until I go." She seems to relax just a bit, in spite of the wretched pain. She thinks of Sovngarde, knowing it awaits her, and she already knows what it looks like. "I will miss the sunshine." She whispers, remember the evernight of the sky.

She's gone. Her last words were about the sun. Odahviing can feel that she's gone, though he understands so little. He roars into the sky, trying to understand the emotions inside of him.

He knows she can take the souls of Dov, he knows they grant her power, allow her to combine her dragon soul with her mortal heart. He decides to give his to her.

By the time anyone finds Eryn, there is only a dragon skeleton left curled up around her, as though she had managed to bring down one last one before she passed. But as Vipir, who had been chosen to scout out Riften and report on the damage, gets close, he realizes she's breathing. She's alive.

He gets her back to Nightingale Hall. They lay her in bed, Etienne tries to use some of his Brenton magic to help her... but he can't. None of them can understand this. She doesn't move, her breaths are so slow she doesn't look like she's moving, she doesn't even seem to be dreaming.

Eryn is like that for six months. By month three, there's an ongoing argument about what to do with her. Whether to toss her out into the world, or keep her in the hall. Every time it comes up, Etienne talks Brynjolf into letting Eryn stay, and Brynjolf talks Opal and Karliah into it.

Meanwhile, the world mourns. As far as anyone can tell, as far as the story goes, Eryn was killed by the Thalmor during the fall of Riften. A massive service is held in Solitude, and a statue of her is even erected. People lay flowers and coins and weapons at her altar every day.

The thieves guild does consider telling the world that Eryn is alive, but they decide the risk to the guild (and to Eryn) would be too great. Brynjolf specifically also believes it would be cruel to her family if she does end up dying.

Ralof spends his little spare time picking lavender. At first, everyone thinks he's just trying to distract himself. Trying to make sure he won't burn himself out. But someone eventually asks, and he tells them that lavender was Eryn's favorite.

[ladytanithia]

Writing WIP Wednesday (10/11)

From Chapter 2 of Miska's Descent, a perverted story I'm writing for a perverted friend. A couple goes hiking in Colorado, explore a cave, and find themselves sex prisoners in a bandit den in Skyrim.

WARNING: brief implication of rape.

@dirty-bosmer @guarmommy @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

When Miska awoke, the first thing she noticed was that her arms were tied behind her back. They were numb at skin-level, but ached at bone-level. The second thing she noticed was that she desperately needed to pee. With that second observation came the realization

that her vagina was sore and felt a little raw. She didn’t remember much after the big green man’s initial penetration; either she had passed out or her mind had made everything mercifully blurry.

Her bladder twitched, and the pressure became worse. Twisting around, she found that she was alone in a small cavern with storage barrels and crates, a table, and a large wooden chest. She was still naked, but she was lying on what appeared to be a bedroll, an animal skin half-covering her. She was mildly surprised that they’d put her in some semblance of a bed. She wondered where Stephan was, if they’d treated him the same, or if he was…

Her bladder twitched harder, which was rather a relief of sorts, as it distracted her from the horrific thought before it could fully form in her mind.

“Hello!” she called, carefully maneuvering herself onto her knees. She listened for a moment, not hearing anything, then called out again. “He-” The cry caught in her throat as the brownish alien man silently appeared in the doorway. She jumped a bit in surprise and almost lost control of her bladder.

“Need something?” he asked in a quiet, silky voice.

“I need to pee,” she told him with embarrassment. “Do you have some kind of outhouse around here?”

He gave her an odd look, as if she was off her rocker. “There’s a bucket right there in the corner. Did you miss it?”

She looked and saw it, but saw no toilet paper. “Okay… but how am I supposed to clean myself?”

“There’s rags in that basket. I’d advise using the same one until you have to do the – other thing. Then the dirty rags go in the other basket, the one with the lid. They get washed every few days. Maybe if you behave yourself, the chief will let you be the one to go down to the river and wash ‘em.”

Miska struggled to get to her feet without her hands, and the brown man grabbed her elbow and helped her up with surprising gentleness. She felt his eyes all over her body, but he didn’t try to touch her anywhere else. She examined the empty bucket and the basket of rags, finding them to be clean enough. She turned to the brown man, who was still casually watching her with a hint of an amused smile. “Some privacy, please?”

“Says the woman on display,” he mocked with a shake of his head and a wry smile. But he turned his back and moved back to the doorway, looking down the short passage to the main chamber while she reluctantly did her business behind him.

[maysoulrose]

The Thief and The Moon chapter 3 | Skyrim fanfic

—————————chapter 3———————————

Allustria walks through the door she believes to be her destination. A cistern pool shows itself. She sees a group of people chatting at a bar. Taking in her surroundings, she discovers that this place is pretty run down. A bouncer is waiting by the sign that says ‘The Ragged Flagon’. Accurate. He gives her a stare, and lets her in.

She sees the man she met in the market and overheard him talking about her. The people he’s chatting with both glance at her direction and kind of look at each other.  She smirks and takes her place about a foot behind Brynjolf. 

“I bet she’s on her way right now!” He turns and narrowly misses crashing right into her! His face full of shock for a split moment just before he clutches his chest as if to prevent himself from having a heart attack. He mutters something to himself. Vex and Vekel begin cackling at him.

“I can’t believe you got scared like that! Surely you, of all people, would hear someone coming from a mile away! She’s not even trying!” Vex clutches her gut in laughter.

Brynjolf clears his throat and brushes himself off. He’s now in a set of leather armor, stained black, and covered in pockets and pouches. Allustria wanted to know what he kept in each one. 

“So, you made it! Color me impressed, Lass.” Choosing to ignore the clattering oafs behind him, and that he almost shat himself moments ago. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.” 

She smirked at him, finding him ignoring his embarrassment kind of adorable.

“Getting here was pretty easy… once I opened that damnable lock..” She muttered that last part, turning her head away. 

“Reliable and headstrong? You’re turning out to be quite the prize.” Her eyes flick up at him and he gives her a mischievous smile. She suddenly felt… shy, and could feel her cheeks warming from the way he spoke to her. His accent was unique to this place. She loved it.

“Well, are you going to show me around?” She said, coyly. Pushing through her shyness with ease. “Introduce me to everyone?” Allustria bites her lip with a canine and lets the sharp tooth drag across the pink flesh as it forms a smile. Brynjolf swallowed a lump in his throat from that cheeky little lip bite. 

“Er, of course!” Brynjolf sweeps his hand through the air as he twists around to face the two behind him, who had finally stopped laughing. 

“This here is Vex. Our best at break-ins. Vekel the man! He works the bar and is dating Our lovely fence down here.” Sitting at one of the tables, Tonilia looks up.

“Keep it in your pants, I’m not interested.” Seemingly only hearing that he had called her ‘Lovely’. 

“Yeah, Brynjolf.” Vekel scowled at his flirtatious remark.  Brynjolf puts his hands up and backs off. He winks at Allustria, who raises an eyebrow paired with a smile.

“Over here is Delv- hey! Where’s Delvin?”

“Last I saw ‘em he was passed out in the back.” Vex took her place, leaning against a stack of boxes with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ah. Too much mead from last night? Well. He’s the one to get you some jobs. Same with our little Vex here, if she has some to spare.” 

Allustria takes in the tiny area. A dock that was basically empty, nothing much but cobwebs and forgotten crates, apart from the bar. A few tables and chairs here and there. It was quiet. There was another door that led to more of the sewers and a little back room with a couple of beds, presumably where Delvin was crashing. 

“How about we get you your first job, then we can get you fully initiated.” Brynjolf touches the elf gently on her arm to get her attention back to him. She snaps her head to look at him in response.  The sensation tingled.  

“I have a couple of patrons who are late on their monthly payments, and need to be taught a lesson.”  He continued. 

“Got it.” Allustria flicked her wrists and two daggers appeared out of nowhere.

“Woah there! Not so fast, Lass!” A little bit of panic washed over him, “We need them alive. In fact if you could do this without any bodily harm, that’d be preferred.”

Allustria squints her eyes a bit, feeling a little suspicious of their ways.

“The way things work down here is, if they’re dead, they can’t pay us. Keep that in mind.” He placed a hand on her wrist and lowered the weapon. She stared at him for a moment.

“….Alright.” Almost sounding disappointed.  Brynjolf breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing at first how trigger happy she was. He chose to trust that she’ll abide by their rules unless proven otherwise. 

Allustria slides her daggers back up into her bracers. That made him wonder what she does with the blade attached to her thigh. 

“Tell me the targets and I’ll get it done.” 

—————————————-

Allustria took care of the jobs fairly easily. Keerava caved after learning that the elf knew about her family somehow. Helga denied paying but then changed her mind as soon as she saw Allustria eyeing her prized Lady Dibella statuette. Bersi, the shop owner, had no questions when he heard Brynjolf had a new lackey out intimidating people for their debts and gladly paid up. 

Evening had come. Brand Shei’s booth was empty, most everyone was packing their wares up for the night and heading to the Bee and Barb or Haelga’s bunkhouse. Just finishing Brynjolf’s request, she decided to go right back into the sewers. Thanking her past self for lowering the bridge, so she didn’t have to go the long way again. 

Upon entering the flagon, Allustria immediately notices a jump in activity. Quite a few more people had arrived, enjoying mead and each other’s company. 

“Well, well, well, aren’t you a beaut’” A man with a shaved head was sitting at the table nearest her when she emerged from the shadows. His armor matched Brynjolf’s and he too, had a unique accent, but his was different.

“You must be the new recruit. C’mere, lemme get a look atcha.” He opened his arms and patted his thigh.

“Delvin, you’re drunk! Leave her alone!” Brynjolf yelled from his seat at the bar. But to everyone's surprise, Allustria took his offer and planted herself on his lap. She wrapped her arms snuggly around his neck and lowered her gaze to his. He was grinning ear to ear. 

“I’ll be yours for the night if you give me something worth my while. That is, if you can handle me.” Allustria soothed.

“R-Really?” He managed to say. Allustria smiled, revealing her slightly sharpened canines when she felt movement beneath her. Delvin was completely enthralled. 

“Mmm.” Allustria tilts his chin up with her fingers.  “Maybe some other time.” She swings her leg, lifting herself up with its momentum. He sat there in stunned silence, not noticing his obvious bulge.  

Laughter bursts from the crowd after witnessing her little show. Brynjolf gets up and greets her.

“So! I hear you got those errands done!” Making a mental note that she was quite the flirt. 

“Of course. Here’s the payment.” She hands it off. He gives her a proud smile.

“Everyone! Meet Allustria! The newest member of our merry little band of thieves!” He slips a hand around her waist and raises his mug, sweeping it through the air, spilling about half its contents. She felt incredibly aware of how forward he was with touching her. Even though she had just sat her rump on a complete stranger seconds before,  his tight grip on her side gave her butterflies.  

“Cheers!” Everyone Yells, clanking mugs and flagons alike. Vex hands Allustria a drink, who then clinks it against Brynjolf’s before chugging the mead down, herself. Letting her hand rest against his back for support. 

Throughout the next few hours, the party ensued. Allustria had an actual conversation with Delvin and tried to meet all the new faces. Sapphire, who was just gorgeous, Rune, who is sweet and really enjoyable to chat with, and Thrynn who used to be in a bandit group. Allustria didn’t get to talk much with anyone else before Brynjolf took her aside.

“I think it’s about time I show you what we’re really about.” Leading her to the back. He takes a side glance at her over his shoulder, and opens up the dresser in front of them. The whole cabinet unfolds and reveals a secret entrance. Allustria’s eyes spark up with obvious excitement! Brynjolf smiles and takes a step inside, turning and offering a hand. She takes it, stepping over the lip of the door frame and follows him through another door a few feet away.

Behind it reveals a massive opening. Two waterfalls are spilling down the walls, a large pool of water in the middle of the room with stone bridges meeting in the center. Beds circled around the curved walls, as well as tables, archery targets, and an alchemy table. There was no one there, apart from a man perched at a desk covered in maps and loose paper. He notices them arrive and meets them at the center of the pool, moonlight from above showered down on them. 

“Allustria, This is Mercer. The leader of the guild.” Brynjolf introduces. Mercer looks her over.

“Brynjolf assures me that you’ll be of use. I hope that’s true, for your sake.” Mercer barely even looks her over. Brynjolf clears his throat and glares at him, nudging him a little. “Oh and uh. Welcome to the guild.” 

Brynjolf turned and smiled at Allustria, but it faded when he saw her face was as stern as a rock. 

“And since you seem so capable, I already have a job for you.” Mercer continues to give her the details of breaking into the GoldenGlow Estate which sits on its own private island in the lake just outside the walls of Riften. 

“Are you sure?” Brynjolf takes him by the arm and turns him away, for a more private conversation. “Even our little Vex couldn’t get in.”

“You say that this ‘Allustria’ is promising, let her prove it.” 

Brynjolf struggled to think of an argument. Mercer turns back to the elf.

“I’ll get it done.” She says, not needing him to say another word. 

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

read it on the fanfiction site

[fabeong]

Fuck it. Florentius Baenius headcanons:

There are too many thoughts about my Best Blorbo bouncing round my head so obviously I’m going to inflict them on the world. Even categorised for your pleasure!

Backstory:

- Florentius is from a small town in Cyrodill, a little way south of Bruma and the Skyrim border

- There’s a running joke in his family that the Baenius men never follow in their father’s footsteps. So Florentius’ father is a fletcher and woodworker, his grandfather was a stable hand, his great-grandfather was a steward and you get the picture

- His mother died when he was nine, and it was at her funeral that Florentius first heard a quiet voice call his name.  (I’ve actually got a whole story-hc in my head for how Arkay first spoke to Florentius, might actually write it some day)

- Florentius first met Isran when the latter was still a Vigilant of Stendarr. Florentius had gotten into trouble with some daedric cultists and was rescued by the Vigilants, in particular one who had even fewer qualms around killing enemies than normal... psst there’s already a fic mentioning this! 

Misc. headcanons:

- A lot of his confidence is a façade. Florentius knows full well most people think him insane at best or dangerous at worst, and even with an aedra on his side it does get to him. When someone believes him or even just treats him with respect and kindness, they’re instantly a best friend in his eyes.

- He is the type of alchemist who just eats random ingredients to see what they do. He has poisoned himself multiple times due to this, much to Arkay’s chagrin.

- His father nicknamed him “Ren” as a child, and still refuses to call him anything else

- Florentius gives the best hugs, and is incredible at comforting people. He insists it’s because of his job, that as a priest of Arkay of course he’s learnt how to help with grief, but the truth is he’s always known just what to say in a tough situation, when to just sit quietly and offer companionship, when to crack a joke to ease the mood, and when to offer words of encouragement.

- He prays every sunrise and sunset

- Florentius has technically “died” multiple times. In a few situations of complete desperation, Arkay has channelled some of his power through Florentius (kind of like a temporary mantling) to save him or others from an unbeatable foe, but the affect leaves Florentius lifeless for a few moments until Arkay sends his soul back. 

- ^^ This is where that killing-30-vampires story comes from. It’s technically true but Florentius can’t actually remember the details, hence why he says to ask Arkay

- He used to have long hair, but cut it off after a vampire used it to pull his head back and nearly bit him. Though he escaped the near-miss left him shaken and he shaved his head that day

- Florentius would never admit it, but he hates the tension that’s developed between him and Isran. In the old days they might have bickered or had intellectual differences, but it was their respective prides (and Isran’s growing vampire obsession) that ultimately damaged their friendship. Florentius just secretly hopes it’s not beyond repair.

[monster--mama]

In the Middle of the Night, in the Middle of the Woods

  The three of them make their way out of the tavern and into the warm, humid night in silence as they head towards Ravenna and Kaidan's bounty. Lucien stays quiet for about three miles before he starts asking questions.

"By the way, what are your names?"

"Ravenna."

"Kaidan."

"Ah, Kaidan. That's an unusual name. Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?" He asks.

"I wish I knew," says Kaidan, "But I'm trying to find out."

"Ah, wonderful. And where, exactly, are we going at the moment?"

"For a drink," Ravenna returns, glancing back at him and letting her ruby eyes show. The implication is enough to silence him for the rest of the journey.

                                                            ~~~

"Eugh. I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Lucien says as he watches Ravenna pulls her teeth out of the exsanguinated corpse.

"Ditto," she says.

"Well, what next? Do you two have a plan?" he asks as Kaidan returns from dealing with the other bandit upstairs. "Riften," he tells Lucien, "We discussed it earlier. The Thieves' Guild, if they're still around, will be a good option to help make sure our tracks are covered."

"I still want to check out the Evergreen Grove before we leave the area," Ravenna adds, "Just remember not to pick the flowers there, lest we agitate the Spriggans."

"Are you sure that's wise? We're running out of moonlight," Lucien points out.

"Won't take but a moment. I just want to look at the alchemist," she says.

"Wasn't he in the middle of the pool?" Kaidan points out.

"Yes, but I can walk on water," she explains.

"How though?" Lucien asks.

"Rare vampiric blessing," Ravenna shrugs. So they go and let her look at the alchemist, and while she doesn't find anything interesting on him, something interesting does find them. As Kaidan and Lucien (especially Lucien) stand stock-still among the wandering Spriggans, a new, feminine voice cheerfully greets them.

"Hello! Are you three lost?"

All eyes turn to the speaker, a small and round-faced Bosmer woman with vibrant orange auburn hair.

"Uhh … No," Ravenna replies as she walks back across the pool towards her companions, entirely forgetting that walking on the surface of the water isn't extraordinarily normal behavior, "We're just exploring off the beaten path a bit."

"Ooh! Are you adventurers?" The Bosmer asks.

"No."

"Not exactly-"

"Yes!"

Ravenna and Kaidan both shoot Lucien annoyed looks for that, but the Bosmer just giggles.

"Do you folks know Skyrim very well?" the Bosmer asks. Lucien shrugs and Kaidan shakes his head, but Ravenna affirms.

"Like the back of my hand, actually. I grew up here," she says.

"Is that so? I don't suppose your group has room for one more?" The Bosmer questions, "I could use someone to show me around this cold, unfamiliar place. I'm a good archer too, so I could help watch your backs in return. What do you say?"

"Weeeeeell..."

"Um, see-"

"About that," the three of them all start at once.

"Is there some sort of problem?" The Bosmer asks, "I can find others to travel with, if so."

"That might be for the best, Miss -" Ravenna begins.

"Auri," The bosmer supplies.

"Auri. Sorry but we are on a fairly particular schedule right now I'm afraid. I'd hate to inconvenience you," she finishes, but Auri just quirks one copper-orange brow at Ravenna.

"You mean wandering around in the woods after midnight?" Auri points out coyly.

"Er, yes?" Ravenna tries.

"But you're not doing anything suspicious. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the woods, right next to a corpse adrift in the pond?" Auri asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Lucien and Kaidan pale at this. Ravenna might be paling too, but she can't get any lighter than her regular skin tone. Auri blinks her large brown eyes at the trio like the cat that got the canary.

"Oh, just come on," Lucien relents when Ravenna and Kaidan have run out of evasive replies

"Wonderful!" their apparent new ally declares all too cheerfully.

"We have got to stop getting in situations like this," Ravenna suggests.

"Agreed," Lucien and Kaidan declare unanimously.

[megwritesnstuff]

Something Cozy

Hello! I have no idea if I’ll be able to finish it, but this year I’m going to try my best to participate in @tescheer​ ‘s 25 Days of TES Cheer holiday event. Although these will not be specifically Christmas themed, more like winter time and the general feelings of slowing down and being with friends/family at the end of the year.

Without further adieu, here is Day 1, of which the prompt is “cozy.”

It had been... a rough year, to say the least. Between her father having to go back to help out the Legion, and her being sent far, far away to Skyrim to live with her uncle Aryuen, to finding out she was Dragonborn and doing her best to keep sane while dealing with a destiny she could still barely wrap her mind around, Leona had had enough.

All the young Imperial wanted to do was rest, now. It was Evening Star, the last month of the year. Soon people would begin their preparations for Saturalia, and the New Life Festival. Both events that she would have looked forward to, even just a year ago, but now things were... different. Sitting at the museums upper floor apartment that her uncle had graciously allowed her and her friends to live in, mysterious note in hand telling her to rent the attic room of the Sleeping Giant Inn, the young redhead sighed loudly.

“What has you so troubled, my friend?” Leona glanced up to see Inigo walking downstairs, the first one awake out of the small band of adventurers who’d joined her over the past year. His unusual blue fur glinted in the dim light of the single candle she had lit when she tiptoed downstairs herself. The younger woman knew that out of all of her friends, not a single one didn’t deal with the nightmares of their past (or in her own case, future.) She’d done her best to be quiet so everyone could get some good rest now that they were finally back home.

“Forgive me, Inigo. I didn’t mean to wake you. Please, go back to sleep.”

“You did not wake me, young friend. The strange dreams and biting of fleas did that. You should also not dodge my questions.”

The redhead bit her lip and then sighed again, softer this time, as the blue khajiit came to sit by her in the soft warm light. She knew he meant well, of course, but it was still something she had trouble talking about with anyone besides Khash or Lucien, the two friends who had become much more like siblings to her than anyone else.

“It’s just... this. Dragonborn stuff.” Leona waved the unsigned note for emphasis, before tossing it down onto the coffee table and slumping back into the chair, defeated.

The older man grabbed up the note with a yawn to scan over, his eyes widening just a bit before going back to normal. He gently placed it down and looked over at the redheaded Imperial. He’d try his best not to make things worse for the teen by being shocked.

“I see... This was waiting for you when we arrived home yesterday, yes?”

“Yeah. I asked Farengar if he could have his associate from before contact me to teach me more about dragons, but this note isn’t signed or anything, so I have no idea if it’s really her. It could be those crazy cultists from before, or any other number of enemies. I just--” The girl sighed heavily, reaching up to rub her eyes. It was apparent she hadn’t slept a wink, by the dark circles and gritty sound of her usually smooth voice, “--I just want to NOT have to worry about this stuff for once. I miss my dad. I miss how we used to decorate the house for the whole month, even though New Life Festival is right at the end. I miss the time before I knew I was supposed to be this great hero.”

Leona wouldn’t cry, it was something she promised herself after that fateful day in Helgen, when she’d discovered her fathers bloodied body. She’d hardened her heart after that so she could get through things, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. Now, in the hour before dawn, sitting in the candle light with the crazy khajiit she’d discovered in Riften’s jail who swore he knew her (he didn’t) it was harder than ever.

“Leona... I am sorry. You are still so young to be dealing with all of this. Not to mention how you’ve agreed to help Khash, Lucien, Kaidan, myself and the others, too.”

Inigo looked at the younger woman fondly. Even though they hadn’t had a formal discussion about it yet, he’d already realized that this young woman and the one he’d betrayed weren’t the same person. He hadn’t left yet, though, wanting to stay with this group and help them all in any way he can. They accepted him, even as he was still crazed, coming off of the skooma. He wanted to do anything he could to repay them, especially Leona.

“Come. Let me escort you to bed, surely you will feel better if you sleep. Allow your mind to rest and not worry for a bit, hm?”

He stood, and took her hand, leading her up the stairs to her bedroom and insisting she get some rest. Even if the redhead had wanted to put up a fight, there wasn’t much fight left in her. They’d been out on the roads for weeks, fighting dragons and helping the people of Skyrim. She was dead tired.

After softly shutting the young woman’s bedroom door, Inigo grinned as an idea came to him. With him and everyone else working together, they could surely come up with something to give their Dragonborn friend a bit of respite.

“Inigo, are you sure this is a good idea? I hate to be a Debbie downer, but this isn’t exactly what I would call a “New Life Tree.” Back in the Imperial city, they’re MUCH bigger--”

“Lucien. Shut up. It’s not going to be the same as some rich boys home would look, but it’s still nice. Don’t you want to cheer Leona up?”

Inigo sighed, shaking his head at Lucien and Kaidan arguing, as usual. He’d told them his plans earlier this morning, and everyone had agreed that decorating the safehouse while Leona slept sounded wonderful. However, with all of them being different races, and coming from different parts of Tamriel, they hadn’t been able to agree on how exactly to decorate, what foods to make, or what would make the youngling happiest. Finally, they’d decided to do a little bit of everything, that way, they could enjoy it too.

Sure, the dragons were a huge threat, but there wasn’t a ton they could do at the moment, anyway. Why not relax and make themselves a bit cozy in the interim?

Finally, another voice spoke some reason, though. Thank the Gods for Khash, honestly.

“Do not mind them, Inigo. They will probably argue no matter what. We are all used to it at this point, probably. I think the tree you picked looks nice. It is not very big, but it does not need to be.” The young Argonian chuckled softly, helping him line it up with the tree base they had bought in the Solitude marketplace just a bit ago, making sure the tree stood steady on its own before both of them backed away to admire it.

“This will be the first time I am able to really celebrate the New Life Festival, so I am pleased with it. I am sure Leona will like it as well.”

“I am happy you think so, my young friend. I hope she will stay asleep until we are done, although...”

Inigo turned to glare at the other two boys still arguing. Inigo didn’t get angry easily, and so even one sharp look from the blue catlike man was enough to silence them for now.

“She will not if you two do not stop making so much noise. Help Khash and I finish setting things up in here. Quietly.”

It was already midday by the time Leona was able to open her eyes again. Honestly, she could barely remember this morning. She knew she had talked to Inigo a bit about some of the stress she’d been having lately, and he insisted she would probably feel better if she actually got some real sleep for once. She’d been too tired to argue about it, so she took his advice. She hadn’t meant to sleep half the day away, though. Quickly, she got up and went around her room, following her usual routine. Wash off, get dressed in the warm clothes her uncle had bought for her, tie hair back. She nearly put her armor on out of habit, but her and the rest of her crew had agreed to take a few days in town before heading back out, so she left it off.

The cold of Skyrim was something she’d still not gotten used to, but she sweaters Uncle Aryuen had bought for her were thick and warm, very cozy. She yawned before pushing open the door to her bedroom and heading downstairs. Every motion was muscle memory at this point, and she was halfway downstairs before she truly opened her eyes and saw all the changes.

The apartment, which had previously been plain, bland, and dusty, was now decked out in what she could only call a smorgasbord of decorations from nearly every culture on the face of Nirn. From snowberry wreaths of the Nords, to garland made of pieces of clay shaped into the phases of the moon and strung along fine silver embroidery thread, something common in Elsweyr. There wasn’t a surface in the whole of the apartments first level that wasn’t decorated to be festive in some way or another.

In the far corner, where she’d originally pushed a chair and table near the window to act as a sort of reading nook, stood a short but stout pine tree, decorated beautifully with wooden ornaments and torchbugs placed into small glass jars. It was a sight to behold, to be sure, more beautiful than even the humble tree Leona and her father had put up back in the empires heartland.

Everyone was either sitting to rest, or standing to adjust a decoration here or there. They were all dressed in their casual clothes, even Nebarra (save for his iconic helmet, of course.) The first person to notice the young woman finally up and moving about was Remiel, who smiled wide and shouted “Surprise!”

All of the others soon turned to smile at the Imperial as well, following suit in their greetings and declarations of surprise. For Leona’s own part, she stood stock still on the middle of the stairs, unable to process her own thoughts. For as much as she had wanted something like this, she didn’t think Inigo would go and get everyone else into it, as well. They’d been saving all of their septims to buy a larger base where everyone could stay much more comfortably, but even still, even if it set them back a bit... Leona was overjoyed. It made her chest feel warm in a way it hadn’t in much longer than a year, and it made warm tears drip from her pale face.

Inigo noticed the tears and immediately frowned. He’d gotten carried away, just like he did in the old days. He hadn’t thought it would make her this upset, though.

“Oh, Leona you... you do not like it...?”

Around the khajiit, the others faces began to fall as well. Xelzaz, who’d been arranging food on the table in the dining room, walked out and looked up at their unofficial leader.

But, thankfully, the redhead shook her head. Fiercely. She was still wordless, but she reached up quickly to swipe away the tears that betrayed her heart. Finally after another moment, she spoke.

“N-no.. No, everyone... I love it. Thank you all so much. I-I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore, that I’d become the kind of person that didn’t worry you all, but... I guess these tears don’t count. I’m so happy right now...”

The collective sigh of relief didn’t escape her, and she ran the rest of the way down the stairs to start giving out the hugs they all deserved.

She couldn’t really name the emotion that had wormed its way into her chest and wouldn’t go. Love, joy, happiness. All of them at once. All she knew was that, even though it was freezing outside, and the poor insulation of their apartments walls was letting a bit of that in, she still felt so, so cozy here, with all of her new friends.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Vampire's Masquerade PT. 2

A Jason Todd x Vampire!Reader Story

Word Count: 14,090 Warnings: NSFW (Smut), Explicit Language, Violence, Mentions of Past Assault and Abuse

Author's Note: I made a story mixing DC and Skyrim and you're going to like it because that's what I've put on your plate. I've chaptered the story but Tumblrs a bitch and I can't post the entire thing so I'm going to do two parts. But it's still going to take forever to read. Enjoy! :) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

***Chapter Six***

He was uncomfortable. He was extremely uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his brothers and father, and yet she looked like she was over the moon as she laughed at another dumb joke Dick told. And he didn’t know what he was more unnerved by, the fact that she’d lied straight through her teeth about what she did for a living like it was the easiest thing in the world, or that his family of “Master Detectives” couldn’t figure out that the twenty-eight-year-old freelance artist was actually a ten-thousand-year-old vampire from another dimension—some detectives they were.

Jason watched as she grabbed the silver fork again and took a bite of the cheese souffle appetizer that Alfred had prepared for dinner. He worried about the contact of silver on her skin. None of the jewelry or silverware in her home was silver, in fact, nothing in her home was silver. It was either bronze or gold. She’d mentioned that prolonged exposure to silver would cause a rash and even if she were older than most vampires, and well-weathered against many of the things that would seriously wound younger ones, he knew it had to be causing discomfort to her.

As she chewed silently, he leaned over, turning his head away so his family couldn’t see his lips moving and whispered, “Is your hand, okay?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth as she swallowed and nodded. “I’m alright,” she replied too-cheerfully for his liking. “Thank you for asking.”

“Is something wrong, (Y/N)?” Dick questioned and they both looked at him.

She smiled and shook her head. “Oh no, I’m alright. I just had a bit of a…womanly pain before I came here earlier.” She sipped her wine. “Jason had some ibuprofen in his glove compartment and gave it to me.” Leaning over, she pressed her lips to his cheekbone, leaving a dark, wine red lip print. “He’s just worried about me.”

While his brothers snickered, Jason glared at his plate, incapable of stopping the crimson spreading over his cheeks. “You’re gonna pay for this later,” he muttered under his breath and she merely smiled in return.

“So, Richard—”

“Please, (Y/N),” he grinned. “Call me Dick.”

“Of course. Jason told me you used to work at the Blüdhaven Police Department. I remember the talent you possessed while working for Haly’s Circus.” Her eyes bore into his and Jason was slightly worried they’d see the auburn behind the green contact lenses. “Did you ever consider a career in gymnastics? I’m sure someone as talented as you could’ve been an Olympic gymnast.”

Dick nodded, setting down his glass of water. “I did compete in some tournaments growing up, but I guess I’ve always had the desire to serve the public. Guess BPD was the closest I could get.”

(Y/N) smiled wholeheartedly at him. “A noble desire, indeed, Dick. I’ve no doubt the family around you is proud of your accomplishments.” His cheeks tinted pink, and he looked down at his plate, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’, and she glanced at Tim.

“Jason’s spoken quite a lot about you as well, Timot—Tim. He says when Bruce isn’t working at Wayne Enterprises, you act as the CEO.”

Tim glanced up from the souffle, cheeks stuffed, and immediately flushed as he swallowed the food in his mouth. “Uh, yes. I do.” He coughed a bit. “It’s, uh, no big deal.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward a bit. “No big deal? That company has so many different branches and subsidiaries! You say no big deal but keeping track of every one is a feat all on its own!” (Y/N) shot him a knowing look and winked. “I bet you’re wicked smart though, hmm? Genius level and you could do it with your eyes closed, can’t you?”

He didn’t say anything, but the small curve of his lips told her all she needed to know, and when she turned her gaze on Damian, he simply rolled his eyes. “Is it my turn for the foolish flattery?” he deadpanned, and Jason gripped the edge of the table.

“Be nice,” he warned darkly and (Y/N) inconspicuously rested her hand on his thigh, squeezing gently.

“I guess you saw through me, huh Damian?” she questioned, and he scoffed, slouching enough in his chair to tell her he was bored.

“Richard isn’t a career cop and Timothy works with Lucius who is the actual CEO.” His evergreen eyes narrowed. “Even you would scrape the barrel for those compliments.”

When Jason’s thigh started tensing, she tightened her grip and smirked. “Rapiers or katanas?”

“Katanas,” he glared. “Cutlasses or scimitars?”

“Cutlass,” (Y/N) replied. “Easier to use in close quarters.”

“Hand to hand mastery?”

“I’d like to say I can hold my own but I’m certain you’d wipe the floor with me,” she teased, and he smirked for a split second then it was gone.

“One last question,” he muttered. “Cats or dogs?”

(Y/N) leaned forward and whispered, “Why limit yourself to just the two?”

For a moment they simply stared at each other, then Damian glanced at Jason. “She’s acceptable.”

“Happy to get your approval,” Jason griped, and she patted his thigh quietly.

“Well, Ifor one am happy to have it,” she finalized, and shifted when Alfred pulled the souffle out of her way and placed down the main course. “Thank you, Mister Alfred.”

He smiled warmly at her. “You’re most welcome, Miss (Y/N).” he placed the other dishes around the table, explaining, “Tonight’s dish is grilled pheasant with a juniper berry and rosemary sauce, accompanied by roasted potatoes and brussels sprouts.”

She watched the others pick up their forks and start eating but her hesitance kept her from it. Juniper wasn’t poisonous to her, but it would weaken her considerably to the effects of fire. She could feel her lungs begin to tighten as she stared at the grilled bird drizzled in the burgundy sauce. All she had to do was pick up her fork and put it in her mouth and smile through it, but she couldn’t manage to do it.

“Never had pheasant before, (Y/N)?”

Her head shot up and she gaped at Bruce who had a knowing look as he cut into it with his knife. “What?” she said, just shy of shocked.

He chuckled. “The first time Alfred made this, I wouldn’t eat it because it smelled funny.” Bruce’s steely blue eyes found hers and he smiled. “I promise it tastes better than it smells.”

(Y/N) gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be awkward.”

“No worries, Miss (Y/N),” Alfred replied. “I would be alright with making you something else, if you wish.”

He started reaching for her plate and her eyes widened as she shook her head. “What? No!” the family stared at her and she felt her cheeks warm. She inhaled and cleared her throat. “Please don’t, Mister Alfred, I’ll eat it.”

(Y/N) cut into it quickly and stuck a piece in her mouth, ignoring the burning sensation rolling over her tongue as she chewed, and down her throat as she swallowed.

She let her eyes widen again and she made a show of gaping at the plate then back to him. “Oh wow! That’s fantastic!” she huffed a laugh an embarrassed laugh. “Of course, I’d be worried about something I never tried.”

Alfred chuckled, as did the others, though Jason knew something was wrong by the way she winced with every bite, but he didn’t voice his concern for fear of letting them know her secret.

***

(Y/N) stifled a yawn behind her hand and he glanced over. “Tired?”

She nodded. “Just a bit, but I’m alright.”

Jason shook his head. “We can go to bed if we want.”

“But the house is—oh you mean stay here?” she questioned, and he nodded. “But I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here, (Y/N),” Bruce said. “I’d be a horrible father and host if I said get out.”

Laughing, she nodded her head and met Jason’s eyes. “Are you?” He nodded and started pushing back his chair.

“We’re gonna go to bed,” he commented, holding out his hand to her.

She took it and stood to her feet, pushing in her chair behind her, then she looked at his family. “Thank you for inviting me for dinner. It and the conversation were wonderful.” The others smiled and waved, watching as Jason led her out of the dining room and down the hall.

When they were far enough away, he spun around and took her face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I need to get to a bathroom. I’m going to be sick.”

Jason nodded and pulled her up the stairs. “My bedroom is on the farthest end of the manor. No one will hear you.” He shot a worried look back at her. “What was it?”

“The juniper sauce,” she groaned, putting the back of her hand to her mouth as her stomach churned uncomfortably. “It weakens my ability to resist fire.” She suddenly stopped, leaning against the wall, and Jason gaped as her skin flushed with red swirls, all the way from her face to her toes.

He wasted no time, immediately picking her up in his arms as he all but sprinted to his bedroom, shoving the door open with his hip. (Y/N) saw the bathroom in the corner of the room and rolled out of his arms, almost gliding to the bathroom—he barely saw her move, like flash steps—in one place one moment in another the next.

She slammed the door behind her, and he closed his bedroom door as he heard the toilet seat shove open, and she began retching. Jason felt terrible as he locked the door and made his way to the bathroom, listening to her. He also felt very disturbed because he’d never heard such violent convulsing.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” he worried. “Can I do anything?”

A low groan followed by another round of vomiting sounded from inside and she grunted, “I’d ask for—ngh—clean blood but…but I just have to—oh Divines—ride out the effect.”

Jason didn’t like that answer. “Give me something to do, doll. I feel horrible.”

“It’s not your—ugh—fault, darling,” she hissed. “Just—just get in bed and wait for me.”

(Y/N) went silent after that and he was still beside himself about her, but at least she wasn’t puking anymore, and Jason heaved a sigh, moving away from the door to sit on the bed, eyes still trained on the bathroom.

***

It was almost three full hours before the bedroom door opened and he shot up, eyes wide but still hazy from sleep. Jason hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep.

(Y/N) thrust a thumb back towards the bathroom. “I borrowed an extra toothbrush and your mouthwash,” she muttered. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He shook his head, holding out his arms and she walked to him, letting him wrap them around her legs as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

“Are you feeling better now?” he questioned, eyebrows pulled in concern and she offered a smile that looked a lot like a grimace.

“I’d prefer to avoid any flames for the time being, but yes, I’m much better now.”

Jason lowered his head. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know that juniper was poisonous to you.”

This time she did smile as she crawled into his lap, letting him bury his face in her shoulder. “You didn’t know, Jason.”

“I should’ve,” he mumbled, words muffled against her sweater. “I should know by now what’s going to harm you.”

(Y/N) sighed and pulled back, stifling a giggle when he whined from the loss of contact. “Look at me, Jason,” she murmured, and he did albeit shamefully. “I can be harmed by anything that you can be. Gunshots, stab wounds, physical attacks,” she shrugged. “Food is not so much a touchy subject. The things that make me ill are far, few, and in between.”

She placed a hand on his cheek. “It just so happens that juniper is one of those things, but it’s not your fault and neither is it anyone else’s. Things just happen sometimes.”

He took a moment to absorb her words, then he asked quietly, “…Are you sure you’re feeling better?”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and something in her eyes made his body flush with desire and she suddenly grinned. “I can show you if you’d like?” Rather than waiting for a response, she slipped off his lap and sunk to her knees in front of him and Jason’s legs automatically spread to accommodate her. She giggled. “I guess you know where this is going, darling?”

“I think and I very much hope it is,” he agreed, heart fluttering, watching with enjoyment as she placed her hands on his thighs and shoved them farther.

“Take your pants off,” she commanded lowly, and Jason was scrambling for his belt buckle, then shimmying out of his jeans. (Y/N) gave an amused hum. “I’ve half a mind to make a joke about how obedient you are.”

“You’re a woman worthy of my obedience, (Y/N),” he replied simply before stripping his shirt staring down at her on her knees for him.

She chuckled and biting at his thigh. “I’m worthy of a lot,” she retorted. “Much more when I was back in my homeland.”

“Did you sit on a throne and rule over the people?” he questioned, grunting when she dug her fingers underneath the seam of his boxers.

(Y/N) leaned up, lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Oh darling, I was the most powerful being alive. There was nothing I didn’t have.” She shoved him back so that he was propped up on his elbows and she pressed kisses to his chest, nipping her way down his body until she got to his groin.

Jason was already hard, and she curled her fingers in his boxers and tugged them down and off when he lifted his hips. She took his length in her hand and gave him a tug, smirking when his hips jumped, a grunt escaping him, then she stilled, and he gaped at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice straining as he barely kept himself from thrusting into her grip.

“Oh, I’m simply waiting for you to tell me what you want.” (Y/N) responded with a pleasant smile and he scowled.

“Isn’t that a little obvious?” he retorted, inhaling when she nipped at his thigh.

“What? You mean the way your cock is standing at attention for me?” she rolled her eyes “I had no idea.”

Jason growled and cocked a leg up, nudging her behind. “I want your mouth, (Y/N).”

“Say please,” she cooed, shifting her hand so she could run her thumb up the thick vein that ran the length of him.

He groaned and briefly shut his eyes as she applied pressure. “Please, (Y/N).”

“Just a little more, darling,” she murmured, nipping the juncture of his thigh and pelvis.

“(Y/N), please, put those pretty lips on my cock and suck me,” he begged, and Jason’s eyes went wide when she obeyed, taking his head in her mouth. “Fuck,” he cursed, expression contorting with pleasure as she dipped her tongue into his slit, her hand starting to move on his length.

She hummed and his back arched as the vibrations went straight through his cock, then she flattened her tongue and took him into her mouth as far as she could.

“Oh shit, (Y/N),” he breathed, and shifted one of his arms, curling his hand around her head. Jason groaned as her jaw went slack and he tugged her, watching her head bob up and down.

Hollowing her cheeks, she pulled back and kept his head in her mouth while her hand slicked up and down his cock.

“(Y/N),” he purred, and she met his teal eyes. “Touch yourself for me, doll.” He let out a moan when he saw her free hand disappear between her thighs. Jason couldn’t see but when he heard her muffled gasp and felt her knees spread, hitting his ankles, he knew she was.

“Are your fingers inside?” he questioned, and she hummed, bobbing her head as she pushed her digits in herself. “Imagining my cock instead?”

Her eyes found his and he saw the desire clouded with irritation—Jason did get cocky when it came to sex. (Y/N) lifted her head and swirled her tongue around the head of his length, sucking sharply and his hips jerked, as he let out a startled moan.

“Right there, doll. Right there.” Jason moved his hand and cupped her cheek, pressing his thumb against his head when it poked the side of her mouth. “I wanna know what lucky bastard you practiced on to get this good,” he praised. “Fuck, your mouth is talented.” She smirked around his cock and tongued his slit again. “I’m gonna come of you keep doing that, doll.”

He immediately realized that was horrible to tell her because with her track record, she would’ve started teasing him, but evidently, she wasn’t in the mood too because she did it again. And again. And again. Until Jason’s hips were rising off the bed and he was whimpering quiet little, “Yes, yes, yeses.”

And the warmth spread across her tongue, bitter, but she groaned and swallowed him, all the while Jason’s eyes were screwed shut, toes curling as the tightness in his gut suddenly snapped.

(Y/N) pulled away when he moaned lowly and he watched her press her cheek to his thigh, staring up at him with glazed eyes as she panted and he reached down, caressing her cheek.

“You did so well, doll. It’s your turn, please.” He pleaded, thumbing her lip and she took it in her mouth, sucking it. Jason’s gut stirred again, and he begged, “Come on your fingers, (Y/N). All over them. Come for me.”

He watched her go still, then shudder with a pitched whine against his leg before she collapsed against him with a heavy breath. They caught their beath, then she rose and climbed onto the bed, lying beside him.

For a moment, they were silent, then he commented, “That was incredible.”

(Y/N) giggled and turned her head, kissing his shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

She sighed, feeling sleep calling to her and he murmured, “Tired?”

“A bit,” she answered. “I might be more resistant to things because of my age, but I definitely notice that I recover slower.” She shimmied out of her pants and sweater before crawling up to the covers.

Jason followed, slipping underneath with her, and he pulled (Y/N) into his arms, lifting the sheet and comforter over them.

“Sleeping it off can’t hurt, huh?”

She snorted halfheartedly, already feeling her eyelids drooping as she propped her head on his shoulder, nose brushing against his neck. “That’s how I’ve dealt with…a lot of my problems.”

He chuckled. “Same here, doll.” Jason kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” (Y/N) murmured, and he felt her breathing even out against his throat moments later.

***Chapter Seven***

The werewolf hadn’t shown up in a month, and while the citizens of Gotham had celebrated by returning to the nightlife, like the idiots they were, Jason and his family knew otherwise that it was still out there, waiting for another hunt. At least, that’s what (Y/N) had told him, and he believed her more than anything though even she herself was concerned about how quiet the nights had become, and he’d gotten more than comfortable patrolling with her following close behind in the shadows, usually invisible to avoid detection.

Jason knew she was using him as bait for the Lycan, waiting for it, to see if it would try attacking him. Had it been anyone other than her, he would’ve said hell no, but he knew (Y/N) was always watching him and his surroundings, and there was no one he trusted more to watch his six than her.

That being said, she wasn’t with him that night, a call from one of the council members had finally come and she’d stayed behind to discuss a course of action, leaving Jason to patrol his portion of the city alone. He was fine alone but (Y/N) insisted that Nevermore come with him just in case; he agreed when she shot him that firm glare and he couldn’t help but cave, sighing when the raven pecked at his helmet, sitting atop his shoulder pads.

***

Jason stood on the ledge of the clocktower, staring out at the large expanse of city before him. Usually, he knew where to start but right now he kept running the “If-I-Were-Blank-Where-Would-I-Hide?” question, wondering where a werewolf would be—it wasn’t in the sewers, they’d checked multiple times.

He sighed just as the sound of boots came behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing Nightwing and Red Robin coming his way. “Hey,” he muttered, going back to the city.

“You’ve been up here for like thirty minutes, Hood. The city isn’t going to patrol itself.” Nightwing commented. “Something on your mind?”

He shrugged. “Trying to think where it’s hiding.”

“The werewolf?” Red Robin questioned, though it sounded rhetorical.

“Yeah,” he replied. “All this city space and one giant beast. You’d think we’d be able to find it.”

“Maybe it got shot with a silver bullet?” Nightwing offered. “Or taken up by animal control?”

Red Robin snickered but Jason merely raised his arm and whistled, waiting while his brothers stared at him like he had three heads.

A low croak sounded above, and they watched as the raven fluttered and perched on his wrist. “Find anything?” he asked it and the bird turned its head and shook it. “Damn,” Jason cursed and fished around in his pocket for a treat. “Keep a lookout would you, bud?” The raven cawed and took off into the night sky once more.

“Was that a crow?” Nightwing asked, blinking in shock and Jason bristled.

“He’s a raven. Name’s Nevermore.”

“Where’d you find a trained raven?” Red Robin quizzed with wonder.

Jason glanced at him. “He’s (Y/N)’s.”

Nightwing’s jaw went slack. “She’s—she’s got a raven?”

“And a wolfdog, two cats, and a Neapolitan Mastiff named Fang.” He looked at his eldest brother. “The little demon-spawn would keel over if he met them.”

“Wait, if Nevermore’s (Y/N)’s raven…and he’s with you…does that mean…?” Red Robin trailed off and Jason nodded.

“Yeah, she figured out pretty quick actually,” he remarked. “She’s a lot more than what she lets on.”

“What? Is she like us?” Nightwing joked, Red Robin cackling along and Jason turned his head.

“(Y/N) outclasses every one of us. Especially Bruce. In every way. And I’m not saying that because I’m her boyfriend. I’m saying it as warrior who knows she’s my better.” It was all he said before diving off the ledge, shouting, “Have fun patrolling your sectors, losers!”

***

It had come out of nowhere during the evening and knocked him out of mid-grapple before he’d even realized what it was. Jason rolled along the rooftop a couple times before he slammed into the barrier with a pained grunt. Gravel scattered across the roof and he looked up, seeing the werewolf hunched over on all fours, saliva dripping from its jowls as it growled, and he felt his stomach clench in fear.

“Ah crap,” he hissed quietly and slowly got to his feet, all the while the beast started edging towards him.

A sharp cry echoed above and stupidly, he looked up to see Nevermore. It was all the time the creature needed, lurching forward with a snarl.

Jason brought his arm up as the werewolf’s clawed hand came down at him. It tore through his brown leather jacket like it was a wet napkin, and he thanked God that (Y/N) had taken it upon herself to reforge most of his body-armor plates because when the creature’s nails raked across his wrist guard, it sparked viciously, but didn’t shear.

He cocked his leg out and hit the beast in the stomach as hard as he could, shouting, “Nevermore! Go get her!”

Another cry sounded above, and Jason prayed that he had the strength to hold out as the Lycan came back his way.

***

She rubbed at her temples and resisted the urge to slam her head into the wall for what seemed like the millionth time. “I know, Alexander,” she griped. “I know what the council designations are. I fucking wrote them. What I want to know is when are you imbeciles going to contact the Lycan Alliance Colony in Virginia so we can figure out who the hell is in Gotham.”

The vampire on the line sighed. It’s not that simple, (Y/N), and you know it.

“Not that sim—Alexander, all you have to do is pick up the fucking phone and contact the chambers. Then you meet and acknowledge the problem and contact the LAC in Virginia. How hard is that?”

It’s time consuming, (Y/N). We’ve already got—

“WE ARE IMMORTAL! WE HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD!” (Y/N) screeched. “I CANNOT KILL THIS WEREWOLF UNTIL THE LCA IS CONTACTED AND INFORMED THEY’VE LOST ONE!” Her blood boiled. “INNOCENT PEOPLE AR BEING MURDERED, ALEXANDER! I CANNOT WAIT FOREVER!” Silence was all she heard for a moment after her tirade.

I will contact Lady Heady and Lord Bartholomew and see what we can fit into our schedules.

(Y/N) bit her tongue so hard it bled and before she could speak, something flapped against her living room window, frantic squawking following. She put the phone down, ignoring the vampire’s calls and opened the window, gaping at Nevermore who was still cawing wildly.

“Nevermore!” she shouted, trying to calm him. “It’s alright! What’s the matter?”

He hopped repeatedly along the window ledge and croaked, pointing his beak back towards where he’d flown and she bent forward, smelling his feathers—its blunt scent invaded her senses and she recoiled with a hiss.

“Where is it?” (Y/N) demanded, deathly quiet.

Nevermore answered her with a squawk and she grabbed the window ledge, her skin turning that dark gargoyle shade as her fingernails grew, scratching the wooden frame, and her eyes glowed a bright crimson.

***

Jason’s back hit the edge of the roof, knocking the wind out of him, and he collapsed into the gravel. He pitched forward, catching himself on his hands while he coughed harshly, blood splattering across the rocks. His left arm had already gone numb from blocking every swipe and his right leg was bleeding in three different places; he was sure he’d broken multiple ribs too; maybe his sternum, but in the grand scheme of things, Jason was lucky the werewolf hadn’t disemboweled him yet.

A growl made his head cock up and his breathing stuttered as the beast came around for another swipe. He tried to climb to his feet, but he couldn’t. He’d wasted way too much stamina blocking and waiting the fight out, and now he had nothing left. His body was too tired to keep moving. He was going to get ripped to shreds all the while mentally aware.

Jason’s eyes went wide as it got within striking distance, and a blur of gray overtook his vision and the most vicious snarl he’d ever heard filled his ears. He watched as the blur suddenly expanded and in the light of the city, he saw the full-bodied, gray wings stretched out before him. He thought it was Bruce at first. The points of the wings were sharp and black, and Jason saw the muscled legs beneath them, just as he looked up and saw the white-haired head snarl again, baring its razor-sharp teeth.

His eyes darted to the werewolf who was coming back to strike. The creature let it come, dodging the arm before it struck back, a single slash with its long, black-clawed hand and the beast recoiled with a cry of pain, bright red blood flowing down its face. The clawed hand dropped something, and Jason gaped as one of the werewolf’s yellow eyeballs bounced; it was quickly squashed into mush by the creature who screeched one last time and the Lycan turned tail and fled, outmatched, and wounded.

When it was clear, the winged being turned and Jason shifted back just a hair as he came face to face with the ashen gray creature. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the facial features, gaunt skin pulled taut over high cheekbones, nose flat and pointed with wide nostrils, brow bone full over its eerie crimson eyes. His gaze lowered to the thin-lipped, open mouth and he stared at the pointed teeth and canines.

“Jason,” it boomed, voice like thunder, and knelt, clawed hands reaching out. He wanted to move away but couldn’t, and when the ice-cold palm touched his cheek and its eyes narrowed in what looked like concern, suddenly he realized.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered, and she nodded, placing her other palm to his cheek.

“I got here as soon as Nevermore called,” she replied, then looked down his body. “Divines, Jason. We—I have to get you somewhere safe.” She moved, one arm curling under his legs, the other his back and she lifted him like he weighed nothing.

He let his head rest on the frigid gold metal covering her shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the relief he felt now that he was safe. “Held out as long as I could,” he groaned, and she stepped up onto the ledge before spreading her wings out.

“You did well, darling,” she praised. “I’m proud of you despite my fear.”

Her voice sounded so distorted from its usual one, but Jason wasn’t bothered—this was still (Y/N), just another form. She took off the ledge in the opposite direction of her home and he inhaled sharply when he went weightless, her heavy wings beating around them.

“I have you, Jason. You will not fall,” (Y/N) affirmed. “Rest darling, you will need it.”

Far be it from him to disobey a request like that, especially with how exhausted he was, and the last thing he remembered was comforting beat of her wings, and the soothing timbre of her voice.

***

The sound of calmly running water woke him and when he came to, Jason felt like he was laying on a bed of stone. When he turned his head and looked beside him, he realized he was laying on a bed of stone. With a groan, he pushed himself up and glanced down at his body as the blanket covering him fell down. He was still in his undergarments, but he had no stiches or scars and he wondered if (Y/N) had used her magic to heal him this time.

At the thought of her he looked around, eyes widening at the amazement surrounding him. He sat on a stone bed surrounded by ankle deep water in the middle of what looked like a natural waterfall. Ivy grew along the walls of the cavern and he saw the moon shining on him from a hole in the ceiling. It felt like one of those ethereal places you only ever dreamed of discovering.

Drawing his eyes down, he saw (Y/N) sitting at the end of the stone bed, no longer in her other form, her legs crossed beneath her, eyes closed. Her hands were resting on her knees, palms up and he watched the purple magic swirl between them, like the northern lights, and Jason took a moment to just gaze at her. She looked beautiful. Peacefully beautiful.

He reached for her. “(Y/N).”

Even though his voice was a whisper, her ember eyes snapped open, and the purple spell faded as she breathed, “You’re awake.”

Jason blinked. “I thought you were meditating or something?”

(Y/N) shook her head and inched forward so she could sit next to him. “I was spellcasting while you recovered.”

“What spell?”

“A life detection spell. I wanted to make sure nothing came here while you slept.” She raised a hand and brushed it through his hair before sighing, “Thank the Divines you’re alright. I—I was so scared when I got you here.” Her hand moved to his face, cupping his cheek.

Jason reached up and cradled her hand to his face. “Did something happen?”

“You had already slipped unconscious, and I was worried you were losing too much blood internally.” Her thumb twitched against his skin. “I pooled all my magic into my Restoration spells and healed you for the better part of two hours.” She gazed at him. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

He shook his head. “Nowhere, (Y/N). I feel great, in fact. Like I’ve lost aches I didn’t know I had.”

She returned his quip with a halfhearted smile. “Yes, that’s the power of Restoration healing.”

“But you don’t seem very happy about that.” He commented and she shook her head.

“You were almost murdered because I wasn’t with you and the werewolf got away.”

Jason wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her to him, laying back on the stone bed. She laid her cheek against his bare chest, her hand flat against his heart. “(Y/N), you got there in time. That’s all that matters to me,” he murmured as he rubbed her back.

“But you were hurt.”

“You healed me.”

“The werewolf still got away.”

“Then we’ll find it again,” he countered and propped his arm behind his head, gazing at her. “You scratched it’s eyeball out and it bled. There’s DNA on that rooftop we can use to track it with.” He smiled. “For someone who hasn’t done this in a while, you proved you’ve still got it.”

(Y/N) exhaled through her nose, but she cracked a smile. “Thank you, Jason.”

He hummed. “Always, doll.” He kneaded his fingers into her flesh, asking, “Did you learn anything when you were fighting it?”

“I did,” she said. “I’m falling on intuition here, but I think it’s feral.”

“Feral? Like wild?” Jason made a face. “They are wild werewolves?”

(Y/N) snorted. “Indeed, there are.” She propped her chin on his chest and looked at him. “Vampirism and Lycanthropy are quite different when it comes to actually being the creature you become. Vampires completely transform—we’re no longer humans. But werewolves are still humans, they just have the wolf spirit inside.”

“So what? They call on the spirit to transform?”

“Mhm. When you take on the wolf form for the first time you call on the wolf spirit, but some can’t separate the animal from themselves and eventually go feral. Trapped. Lost forever.”

His eyes narrowed like he was figuring something out. “Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

(Y/N) nodded. “At the time that I accepted the gift of vampirism, I was a werewolf, but Harkon’s blood purged it from my body.”

“The way you talk about him makes him seem like some overlord who was in power because he was the greatest vampire. Was he like a pureblood or something?”

She shook her head. “No. Harkon wasn’t a pureblood, but he did get his vampirism straight from Molag Bal and not another vampire like the ones in his court.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Who the hell is Molag Bal?”

Her mouth opened, then it snapped shut and she tipped her head side to side. “Okay, this won’t make sense unless I explain it completely.” He gestured for her to continue. “So, in my realm there are two types of deities which we worship. The first are called Aedra, which roughly translates to ‘our ancestors’, and they are essentially the Gods that created the lands and everything. In the most common pantheon, there are eight Aedra: Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Mara, Stendarr, and Zenithar. Each correlate with some type of virtue: beauty, love, time, fortune, fortitude, you get the point.”

(Y/N) took a breath. “The second kind of deity are called Daedra and that translates to ‘not our ancestors’. They’re typically viewed as evil and worshiping them out in public is not a good idea. Daedra worshipers are very secretive about their beliefs for fear of persecution. I have witnessed it firsthand,” She admitted. “There are seventeen Daedric deities and they are: Azura, Boethiah, Clavicus Vile, Hermaeus Mora, Hircine, Jyggalag, Malacath, Mehrunes Dagon, Mephala, Meridia, Molag Bal, Namira, Nocturnal, Peryite, Sanguine, Sheogorath, and Vaermina.”

“Who did you worship out of both?”

“When it came to Aedra, I really only followed one deity and that was Akatosh. I was—am blessed with great power and called, ‘Dragonborn’. My body is normal, but my soul is that of a dragon. I can speak their tongue and do lots of other weird shit I’ll tell you later. But Akatosh divinely gifted me the soul and blood of a dragon so I hold him in reverence.”

“Is that why you always say ‘Divines’?” he questioned, and she nodded. “That explains a lot.”

(Y/N) snorted. “When it came to the Daedra however, it’s hard to exist in my realm and not at some point interact with them. They like messing with people, it’s…their nature to change things.” She tipped her head. “I’ve talked to them all, met four in person. I personally reverenced Azura, Meridia, Nocturnal, Sanguine, and sometimes Sheogorath, but honestly that fucker is balls to the walls crazy.”

Jason chuckled. “Sounds like he’d fit right in with Gotham.”

“Oh, he would, absolutely,” she agreed. “But, to answer your original question, Molag Bal is a Daedric Prince who is revered as the Lord of Domination and Enslavement. He is also the father of all vampires, though the first woman was…not a willing participant of the process.” He fell silent at her words. “He raped her and left her for dead. Legend has it that he shed one drop of blood on her brow and when a tribe found her, they tried to heal her, but she appeared to have died. They made her a funeral pyre and lit it.”

(Y/N) frowned. “She walked out of the flames as the first pureblooded vampire and in a fit of rage, slaughtered the nomads, ripping the women’s throats out, feasting on the children’s eyeballs, and raping the men.” Her voice quieted. “She became known as the first ‘Daughter of Coldharbour’.”

Her eyes found Jason’s and she could see the horror and revulsion within them; she didn’t blame him. “She is where vampirism descends from in my lands, unless Molag Bal grants it instead.”

Jason took a long moment to speak, and when he did, his voice was almost a whisper. “You said she was the first? Were…were there more?”

(Y/N) nodded. “A tradition grew amongst his worshippers where on his invocation day, the females of the cults would be offered to him. The women lucky enough to survive emerge as pureblood vampires and henceforth referred to as ‘Daughters of Coldharbour.” Her eyes darkened. “My friend, Serana, who was Harkon’s daughter…was one. As was her mother. They both were a part of the ceremony.”

“They did so willingly?”

She couldn’t help but shrug. “They were his followers and being selected to participate in the ritual was held in great honor and not something that was rejected lightly. Knowing Harkon…Serana and her mom didn’t have a choice but to accept it. Though Serana told me all I needed to know about the ceremony. It was degrading and agonizing, and she didn’t want to revisit it.”

They fell silent and Jason mulled a question on his tongue that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask or not until she whispered, “You can ask me whatever it is you wish to, Jason.”

His hand tightened on her back. “Did you…are you a…”

“A Daughter of Coldharbour?” he nodded, and she shook her head. “No. Even if Molag Bal had ever personally requested my presence I would never accept.” Her eyes darkened with a hatred so cold, Jason almost shivered. “If Daedric Princes could be killed, I’d’ve stomped into his domain and slaughtered him for everyone he’s hurt.”

(Y/N) stared into his eyes. “Are you relieved I’m not one?”

Jason’s expression filled with agony. “No, it’s…the thought that you could’ve endured such an event just…makes me—it makes me—”

She cut him off by leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I know,” she murmured. “I know Jason…and thank you.”

Pulling away enough to gaze at her, he breathed, “I love you, (Y/N). More than you will ever know.”

“I love you most,” she promised, resting her head back on his chest. “Rest, darling. We can both still rest until the morning.”

***Chapter Eight***

Jason hadn’t spoken to Bruce about the incident with the werewolf, knowing that it would also involve (Y/N)’s secret too. Instead, they both started their own tracking of the Lycan in addition to the normal route patrolling. Apparently as well, in her haste to get to him that night, she’d grabbed a bottle of wolfsbane too and applied it to her claws. Its healing capabilities would be slowed down considerably, and she’d assured Jason that the wound she’d given it would take at least a month of healing meaning they’d have some time to do more tracking.

It also happened that the monthlong wait fell in time with Bruce’s annual Wayne Charity Gala, and while Jason had been planning on inviting (Y/N) to it, the continual pestering from his brothers almost made him keep his mouth shut and skip it entirely. They were just as captivated by her as he was—he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but the night was young, and (Y/N)’d yet to arrive.

***

He sipped the golden champagne from his chute and ignored the urge to cold cock Dick who was practically stuck to his side.

“C’mon, Jason!” he whined. “Please tell me you invited (Y/N)!”

Following the crowd silently, he waited patiently for her head to pop in the crowd.

“Richard, you are embarrassing yourself and the family,” Damian muttered. “Todd invited her. Relax.”

“Or he didn’t because we scared her off,” Tim remarked, grinning when Jason’s gaze narrowed at the statement.

Of course, that set Dick off again and after the fifth whine, Jason reached over and gripped his eldest brother’s bowtie, crumpling it and his collar in a white-knuckle grab as he hissed, “For the last time, she’s coming. Now quit fucking badgering me and go do something useful with your useless self before I lose my goddamn patience and shove this chute up yours.”

Dick choked slightly, grinning, “Think that’ll fit up my chute?” His brothers snickered and Jason glared and let him go. He straightened out his collar and bowtie. “Just making sure you did, Little-wing.”

“Why?” Jason quizzed, exasperation evident in his tone as he glared at him. “Last time I checked, (Y/N)’s my girlfriend.”

“Well yeah,” Dick started, glancing around the room. “But we’ve only seen her that once and you haven’t brought…her…” he trailed off, jaw slacking, and he slapped the back of his hand against Jason’s chest. “Jason,” Dick breathed. “Look.”

Jason followed his brother’s gaze to the main entrance of the event and suddenly, his brother’s odd mood shift made sense because he too went slack jawed as (Y/N) stepped into the ballroom, head high and shoulders squared like she the main event herself.

(Y/N) wore a strapless gown that looked like she pulled it straight out of Gone With The Wind, red fabric and black laced up to her chest where it split across and around her arms. There were little gold chains dangling from the arm cuffs and she wore elbow length black silk gloves.

He trailed his eyes up her bare collarbones to her face and neck where she had a black velvet choker wrapped tight around her neck, a garnet the size of his pinky resting in a gold plate, dangling off it. Her lips were a deep wine red, and her eyelids were painted elegantly with black and gold eyeshadow, topped off with perfectly drawn eyeliner and dramatic eyelashes.

Everyone in the room was spellbound by her and Jason’s feet were moving before he knew what was happening, heading straight to her. She saw him coming and her dark lips split into a pearly white smile, making his knees go weak and he almost fell at her feet. Not that that seemed like a terrible idea because from the glares of the women and the hot-eyed stares from the men around, he wasn’t the only one who wanted to drop to his knees and worship her. Something tight pooled in his gut at the thought.

(Y/N) held out her hand and watched with amusement as he took it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Good boy,” she murmured, and he felt that tightness again as he pulled away.

“(Y/N), you look…” he shook his head, unable to find the words.

“Beautiful?” she offered, and Jason swallowed.

“That and everything more,” he whispered, and she laughed, sending shivers down his spine.

“I’d love to hear them all, darling.” She stepped towards him and grazed his cheek with the back of her hand before sealing his lips in a kiss that had his whole body flushing as gasps echoed around them. But he didn’t give a damn—he was too busy being seduced by the woman in front of him.

(Y/N) pulled away and smirked at the look on his face. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to speak, Jason.”

He chuckled and held his arm out for her to take. “Not just yet, doll. But something tells me I will tonight.”

“Count on it,” she winked and rested her palm on his wrist, allowing him to escort her around.

“Everyone is staring at you,” he murmured as they walked towards his family. “I think it’s the dress.”

She didn’t make the show of glancing down, but she hummed. “You said formal, and this was as formal as I have.”

“Really? A corset and a period gown?”

“Don’t act like it doesn’t make you want to bend me over a table, darling. I saw your eyes when you gaped at me,” she retorted with a smile and he huffed.

“You saw that?”

“The way you lost all control of your facial features and body? Oh yes. I saw it all.”

Jason grunted though a smile was on his face as they met his family. “Mock my attraction to you at your own peril, (Y/N),” he threatened lowly, and she giggled.

“Oh, I tremblewith fear, darling,” she murmured, then lifted her hand for Bruce to take. “Bruce, it’s a pleasure to see you again. You look wonderful tonight.”

He chuckled and kissed her hand. “And you look radiant, (Y/N). I think you outshine us all.”

Her laugh was like tinkling chimes and she smiled at Dick who took her hand and kissed it too before tugging her forward just a bit. “Would you care to dance, (Y/N)?” he asked. “Someone as elegantly dressed as you must obviously know how to waltz as well.”

She shot a look at Jason who appeared to be fuming and if looks could’ve killed, Dick would’ve been dead and buried. “I’d love to dance, Dick,” she replied, letting him lead her to the dance floor.

“You look absolutely beautiful, (Y/N),” he flirted. “And all I’m really doing right now is seeing how pissed I can make Jason, so if you’d smile or laugh and play along, I’d love you forever and ever.”

(Y/N) giggled and he twirled them. “You are going to get punched in the face, you know that right?”

Dick smirked and leaned close into her ear. “Yeah, but it’s going to be so worth it.” He spun them again, so she was looking over his shoulder. “Look at him. He’s so jealous he’s practically spitting like an angry bull.”

She inconspicuously glanced in her lover’s direction and gave a rather unladylike snort at the sight. Jason stood beside Bruce with his fists clenched, jaw tight and she could see him grinding his teeth as his eyes narrowed on them.

“Hmm…I wonder who he’s going to be more upset with? Me or you?”

They glanced at each other and she said “Me” while Dick said “You”, then they both dissolved into laughter and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder to muffle her giggles.

As the song ended, they separated and Dick bowed while she curtsied and someone came up and said, “Pardon me, may I have this dance?”

Just as (Y/N) turned to excuse herself, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her backwards and she let out a quiet gasp as her back collided with someone’s equally strong chest. Turning her head, she saw Jason glaring daggers at both Dick and the new dancer.

“Fuck. Off.” he spat, and he watched the two scatter like they’d been shot.

“Darling,” (Y/N) purred, raising her hand to caress his jaw. “Don’t be so green.” Jason’s turquoise eyes lowered to hers and her stomach fluttered from the heated stare.

“I don’t want any other man touching you,” he growled, and she smirked.

“Trying to say I belong to you?”

His arm tightened around her waist. “Like I do to you.”

(Y/N) merely gazed at him before extending her arm across his chest, raising the other beside her breasts, whispering, “Tell me you have a song just for us, darling?”

Jason’s arm shifted to her hip as his free one took her hand in his larger one, giving her a heated stare. “Of course I do, doll. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

The music started and he took the first step, leading her and she barely managed to contain her startled laugh. “The Vampire Masquerade? Really, Jason?”

His lips brushed her ear as he pressed just behind and he murmured, “It’s fitting, don’t you think?” he spun her out and pulled her back, wrapping his arm around her waist as she placed hers on his shoulder.

“Fitting indeed,” she flirted. “But awfully bold to play in front of all these people.”

Jason stepped forwards and her backwards and as they danced, he said, “I like to think I’m bold about the woman I love.”

It felt like hours in just mere moments when the music began to pick up again, signaling the climax of the song and he inhaled deeply as her eyes narrowed in amusement, and suddenly they were twirling, each spin moving them faster and faster across the dancefloor. All eyes were on them, but they simply gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about something, (Y/N),” he said lowly.

She nodded. “Go on.”

“It’s about vampirism and…the idea of joining you.”

(Y/N)’s footing failed her, and she stumbled as the song ended on the final note of the cello, her eyes wide. “What?”

Jason glanced at the party then behind him towards the door leading down the steps to the garden. He turned and pulled her along, through the crowd and into the night. They hurried through the maze of bushes and ended up beneath a willow tree in the far corner of the grounds, the moon and stars hanging overhead. She didn’t know where to start and neither did he apparently, but she figured they had to do it somewhere and she stepped just out of reach.

“What you said in there, Jason…at the end?”

He glanced at her, gaze solemn. “Believe me when I say, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, (Y/N).”

She inhaled deeply, taking in his words and she turned away, looking out at the garden. “Have you told your family about me?”

“No. Not just yet. I was waiting until you were ready.”

(Y/N) tipped her head side to side. “While I thank you for doing so, I don’t think this is a decision to make until we’ve revealed everything to them.”

“Why’s that?” Jason questioned, brows furrowing in confusion and she spun slowly.

“Jason, vampirism is a…a lifechanging transformation. Not just for the individual but for the people around them as well.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think this conversation should be had right now until we tell your family the truth.”

He took her words in stride and reached out for her. She placed her hand in his and he took her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. “Would you want me to join you?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long time, then she murmured, “…More than anything Jason. But you’ve yet to really grasp the concept and all it entails.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vampirism isn’t just extended life and protection from disease and poison, darling. It’s…it’s watching every human in your life grow old and die while you remain young forever. It’s remembering every detail that plagues history while the books get it wrong. It’s watching the world go by while you remain frozen as you are.”

She pulled back to stare into his eyes. “Though I would love to be with you for all of time, I don’t want to witness your despair as you watched your family and friends pass on.”

Jason’s mouth opened then he closed it when he realized he didn’t have a thing to say, and she smiled knowingly. “Darling, we’ve all the time in the world to figure this out.” Raising a hand, she cupped his cheek. “Don’t decide on forever, right now.”

“But I want to be with you,” he insisted quietly, that firm look she loved dearly in his eyes again.

“And I you. But as I said, you still need to discuss this with them first.”

Whatever comeback he had was cut off by a croak and they both turned their heads upwards as a bird circled them.

“Nevermore?” she called, raising her arm and he flew down, perching on her wrist. “What’s a matter boy?” He squawked and (Y/N)’s gaze hardened. “Do you know where?” When he answered her, she lifted her arm. “Take flight and lead me,” she commanded already pulling from Jason’s arm to head for the thickly barred iron gate.

“(Y/N), what is it?” Jason asked and she spun on her heel, still heading to the gate.

“Nevermore saw the werewolf hunting the city.”

He was already moving back to the ballroom. “I’ll get the oth—”

“No.” she commanded, and he stopped, gaping at her as she said, “I will be the one to finish this tonight. And I alone.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious,” he argued, and she shot him a sharp stare.

“Jason. You almost died last time.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I need to do this by myself.”

She was gone before he could say another word and he couldn’t help but stomp his foot into the ground and curse, “Shit.”

***

Finding it didn’t take long this time, less than two hours. Now that she had its scent, she had a straight path to it and even she was surprised at the location it was in—the same rooftop she’d fought it the first time on. She landed behind it and curled her wings around herself, watching as it sniffed around the rooftop.

“You’re not going to find your eye, Lycan,” she said, and it spun around, dropping to all fours as it snarled menacingly. (Y/N) merely gazed at it, taking in the pink scars across its face and the hollowed orbital socket. “Tell me who you are. I know your kind can speak in that form. Or are you feral?”

Again, it growled, and she tipped her chin up. “Couldn’t separate the man from the beast, hmm?” she challenged. “That happens when you’re weak and can’t control your own spirit.”

Something in her words set it off and it charged at her with a snarl. (Y/N) simply sidestepped when it came her way, safely avoiding the snapping jaw and it skidded in the gravel, spinning around to charge again.

“I would feel pity for you had you not murdered so many people.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I bet you got cocky in whatever circle you were in. Thought you could handle the beast before you were trained well enough.”

The werewolf swiped at her, but she dodged each strike and sent back one of her own, slicing into its side like it was paper. Howling, the beast scampered back a bit.

“Who was it that gave you their blood to consume? Your friend? A lover? Or perhaps some younger, more naïve circle member?” She shot forward and shot her wing out, colliding with the wolf. “The worst kind of transformation is the kind where the participant is foolish and inexperienced.”

(Y/N) hissed when it bit at the flesh of her wing and she scratched its leg with the claws on her feet. “How many transformations were you in control? Three? And then you just lost all control as it took over and you couldn’t come back!”

She closed both wings then extended them with a powerful beat, knocking the werewolf back a few feet. Wasting no time, she pushed off with her foot and surged forward, one hand gripping the wolf’s neck, the other flat and pointed.

“Your curse ends tonight, Lycan.” (Y/N) struck out and felt the warmth bleed across her arm as she planted her hand in its chest. “May you find mercy in whatever plane you end up in.”

Yanking her hand back, its snarl died in its mouth and she let go, watching it fall to the ground, gurgling and bleeding before it stilled, going slack in the rocks. (Y/N) cast one last look at it then turned her eyes to the moon high in the night sky. Almost a whole year of chasing and searching for this werewolf and it’d taken less than an hour to end it.

“Such a waste,” she hissed and stepped away. “So many people murdered and—”

Something latched onto her back and she spun to see what it was when she felt it spread out and dig into her skin. She grunted and reached for whatever had pierced her when it shocked her violently.

(Y/N) screeched and spun around, reaching behind her but whatever it was, was too far down. It kept pulsing and each one got stronger after the other and as she stepped forwards, she suddenly tripped and collapsed onto the gravel. Looking down through the pain, she saw her legs tied together with some kind of tri-weave rope.

She reached down to cut it when another pulse split through her body and she bellowed, back arching, wings beating out. (Y/N) knew she had to get away and she crawled along her hands, dragging her tied legs towards the edge. She was almost there when another compressed shot came from behind and she found herself cocooned by her wings, shocks still pulsing her body.

Struggling, she screeched and hissed, hoping to scare off whatever it was when she heard, “I’ve got this.”

It sounded like Dick and before she could say anything, he pressed something against her spine and the worst of the electric shocks passed through her and she descended into darkness.

***Final Chapter***

When (Y/N) didn’t contact Jason within the few hours she had left, he started to worry. He started panicking when Nevermore didn’t come to find him either.

One of the great things about her house is that other than it being a magic house that was bigger on the inside, it was also enchanted, and people didn’t notice it, so she kept the door unlocked.

Jason burst through the door, startling Fang who had been sound asleep on the couch and part of him wanted to apologize but his concern overrode it. He sprinted through the house, shouting her name.

“(Y/N)!” he turned down the hall and ran to the studio. “Where are you!” it was empty and he cursed, checking both bedrooms before entering the study. She wasn’t there either.

The only place she could be was in the basement and he moved back to the hall closet, pulling the door open. Jason yanked the rug away from the hatch and propped it up, getting on his hands and knees to yell down.

“(Y/N)! Are you down there!” he waited, voice echoing down the ladder and through the basement. “(Y/N)!”

A growl sounded beside him and he looked over, seeing White-Fang staring at him.

He reached over and ran a hand through his haunches. “Buddy, where is she?”

The wolfdog merely blinked and turned his snout into Jason’s wrist.

“She went after it, White-Fang. She went after it and I didn’t go with her and now she’s nowhere to be found.” His gazed at him. “What do I do?”

White-Fang bared his teeth in a snarl and Jason looked at them.

“I gotta tell them, don’t I?” he sighed and pulled his hand away, running it through his hair. “Alright. She might’ve wanted to tell them, but if she hasn’t sent Nevermore to relay, something’s wrong.” Jason stood and slammed the hatch shut.

As he ran down the hallway, he paused and looked back at the wolfdog. “Thanks, buddy.”

***

Bruce was anything if not punctual, and when he said for a party to be over, it was over. Honestly, it was actually Alfred who relayed the message and cleared everyone out—he had a knack for it, but Jason figured the loaded rifle he liked to clean in front of everyone.

That being said, the only people still in the ballroom when Jason got to the manor, were Lucius and Alfred. He sped up to them.

“Alfred. Lucius. Have either of you seen (Y/N)?”

Alfred blinked, shaking his head. “No, Master Jason. The last we saw of her, Miss (Y/N) was with you.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out and Lucius asked, “Is something wrong, Mister Todd?”

“I can’t find her,” Jason admitted. “She left the party to find something, and she hasn’t called back or…or sent…” he trailed off and Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Your brothers are in the cave.”

He offered Alfred a tight smile. “Thanks, Alfred.” Glancing at the other man, he nodded. “Lucius.” They watched as he hurried off to the study.

***

His feet hit the bottom step and he strode to the Batcomputer where Dick and Damian were crowded around Tim who was typing away at something. “Hey,” he called, and they spun around, eyes widening.

“Little-wing, where’ve you been?” Dick quizzed, then took in his appearance. “You haven’t changed out of your suit.”

Jason’s hands subconsciously went to his tux and he smoothed it. “Yeah, haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Have any of you seen (Y/N)?”

Tim spun around in the chair. “Thought she was with you?”

“No. She left after we went into the gardens.” He reached out and curled his hands around the latches of Dick’s armor. “Dick, this is serious. I need to know if any of you have seen or heard from her.”

They gaped at the seriousness surrounding their brother and before they could respond, footsteps echoed behind him. Spinning around, they saw Bruce walking over. “Talk to me,” he demanded.

“We found the beast while you were dallying with the elite, father,” Damian quipped, then nodded to a medical table on the far side of the room.

Jason finally noticed it and his eyes widened at the werewolf’s dead body. “What?” he whispered.

“You killed it?” Bruce questioned and Dick snorted.

“Oh no, wedidn’t.” he nodded at the opposite side of the room. “That thing did.”

Everyone’s attention turned to a glass case about half the size of the study and what Jason saw made his heart drop into his feet. (Y/N) was in the farthest corner of the cage, her wings curled around her. She was still and silent.

“What is that?” their father asked, and Tim shrugged.

“Dunno. We ran a blood sample, but we have no idea what to make of it.”

“What doyou know about it?”

As they delved into a conversation, Jason made his way over to the cage. A flash of black appeared in his vision and he looked up, seeing Nevermore gliding to sit atop the cage. He tipped his head, staring at him with a beady eye.

“Is she okay?” he whispered and Nevermore nodded, hopping down to Jason’s wrist when he held it up above the cage. He glanced at the keypad and knew it had some type of failsafe to shut down on the first failed attempt.

“What’s the number, pretty boy?” he asked softly. “Four digits.”

Nevermore cocked his head to the keypad then back to Jason. “One-Nine-Eight-Nine.”

Jason punched in the number and the door slid open with a hiss. Nevermore fluttered up to the bars away from the cage and as he stepped inside, he slammed his fist into the keypad, watching as it sparked, and the door slid shut.

He heard his name being shouted behind him, but he moved to her, yanking off his gloves. “(Y/N)?” he whispered, fingertips tracing the ashen gray skin of her wing. “Doll? Are you alright?”

Someone hit the glass door. “Jason! Get away from that thing!” It was Bruce.

“I’m here, (Y/N),” he promised. “I’m right here.”

A single wing curled away, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into it and it curled around him, darkening his vision, though he could see the faint glow of her crimson eyes.

He felt her arms wrap around his body and he shut his eyes, one cradling the back of his head as she stood to her feet and he grabbed tight to her as she bent her knees and suddenly shot up through the glass ceiling, shattering it into a million pieces.

It felt like an eternity, being weightless in her arms, then the shock of the world came back as they hit the cave floor and she uncurled her wings, exposing them to his family.

Jason opened his eyes as he heard the various weapons unsheathe, charge-up, and extend, and he stared up at (Y/N). “It’s going to be alright, doll.”

“I can hear their hearts, darling,” she whispered lowly. “They are afraid for you.” (Y/N) looked down at him. “Of me.”

He shook his head and smiled, “Let me handle this, okay?”

For a moment she didn’t move, then she slowly uncurled her arms and he turned, but he didn’t step away from her, merely extending his arm out to protect her.

“Guys, you’ve got to relax,” he directed, and Jason saw their eyes dart from her to him.

“Jason, you’ve gotta be joking man,” Tim countered. “That thing killed that thingover there.” He took a step forward. “Put its hand through its chest.”

“I know she did,” he replied and held out his other hand to motion for them to stop. “But she’s not going to hurt anyone here.”

“She?” Dick repeated. “That’s a she?” From the look on his face, he didn’t believe his brother.

Jason looked at Bruce. “She’s not going to hurt us, B.” he inhaled deeply and pleaded, “You’ve gotta trust me on this. Put the weapons down.”

They stared one another down and then Bruce held out a hand, and the weapons lowered. He glanced back at (Y/N) and nodded, though her eyes were still wary, and he murmured, “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Sighing, she stepped back and cocooned herself with her wings once more, then a swirl of black smoke rose around her and a moment later, (Y/N) stepped forward, her face unreadable and Jason would’ve paid all the money in the world to have a picture framed of the expressions his family gave at her reveal.

“Good evening,” she greeted. “I’m sure this is coming at a surprise.”

No one said a word. Not a single word and Jason was sure this was the first time he’d ever seen his family speechless.

“I have contemplated revealing my true nature to you all since our first meeting, understand though that I didn’t wish for you all to see my…other form.” (Y/N) explained. “But please, do not be afraid of me. I’m not going to harm you.”

Jason reached back and took her hand, pulling so half her body was behind him. “I know this is confusing but (Y/N)’s been doing this a lot longer than we have.”

“Uh…how long exactly?” Dick wondered.

He looked back at her and she sighed. “About ten…thousand years.”

Again, he wished he had a picture of their faces.

Tim blinked. “Is there a term for older milfs that isn’t cougar?”

At that, the cave descended into hysterical laughter and (Y/N) pressed her face into Jason’s shoulder as she cackled, and even he was rubbing at his eyes as tears gathered in them.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy I’m no longer the only one being known to date older women!” Dick shouted and the mood was broken by Bruce who walked up to them.

“How long have you been in Gotham?”

(Y/N)’s laughter faded, and she pulled a solemn expression. “About four centuries. I helped the American soldiers against the British when the war came here.” She looked away. “It’s been a long time since I involved myself in human affairs but…” Jason squeezed her hand and she glanced down at their cojoined grip. “But Jason changed that when he picked a fight with a coven a year or so ago.”

“Okay, technically I didn’t pick the fight, they started attacking me,” he retorted.

“After youwaltzed into their territory like you owned the joint.”

Jason scowled. “Semantics.”

(Y/N) chuckled and met Bruce’s gaze, and something passed between them. “Is there something on your mind, Bruce?”

“What are you?” he asked, and she opened her mouth, flashing her fangs. “Vampire?”

“Yes…but that doesn’t seem to be the problem for you.” her eyes narrowed. “So, what is?” Bruce glanced at Jason and she knew right then. “I haven’t used any powers over Jason to sway his mind.”

“Are you sure?”

(Y/N) reached up and undid the tie from Jason’s neck, then unbuttoned the first two of his shirt and showed his neck to them. “Vampiric seduction only works when a vampire has consumed the blood of someone they enthralled.” She let Jason go. “I haven’t fed on Jason nor any human for ten millennia. This I swear to you.”

Jason nodded. “(Y/N)’s never hurt me, B.”

“She killed that thing,” he said, nodding at the corpse and she turned to it, pulling away from Jason to walk over.

“I did. As was my duty as a vampire.” She examined the werewolf. “But I did confirm my suspicions. It was a feral. But now it’s dead and no more people will be ravaged by it.”

“Feral?” Dick repeated. “Like crazy?”

“Wild,” (Y/N) corrected. “When a human can’t separate the beast from themselves, they lose control over their abilities to shift.” Her fingers trailed delicately over the hole she made in its chest. “They’re lost forever. A mindless beast.”

“You mean this was a human?” Damian questioned. “A person?”

She nodded. “Was. Hasn’t been for some time now.” Shaking her head, she admitted, “Though I’m still unsure of how it got into Gotham City. The nearest werewolf colony is in Virginia. It is…concerning that it got this far, especially with as many vampiric territories between here and there it must’ve passed through.”

“We could’ve saved them,” Bruce grunted, and she gazed at him.

“No. No you couldn’t’ve.”

“You don’t know that,” he shot back, and she cocked a brow.

“With all due respect, Bruce, you’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And you do?”

(Y/N)’s face pinched. “I’m a ten-thousand-year-old vampire that’s battled against Lycans for thousands of years.” Scowling, she griped, “Yeah, I think I know what I’m talking about.”

Bruce took a step forward, but Jason cut him off. “Look, I know how much you love being right, but this time, you’re not, okay? (Y/N) stopped this thing from hurting anyone else.”

“She killed it. We don’t kill in my—”

“Bruce.” She silenced him with a firm call. “I understand your no kill rule, but you need to understand that Gotham City isn’t your city. And even if you think it is, my centuries of being here out way your family’s.” She got in his face, staring him down. “I did what was expected of me by the council and I’m not going to apologize for taking care of my business.”

Pointing back at it, she added, “And this was mine. Not yours.”

They glared at each other and Jason rested a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to soften her eyes when she looked at him. “(Y/N), you’ve expended a lot of energy being in your form for so long. We should get you something to eat and some rest.”

(Y/N) reached up and wiped the fatigue from her eyes. “I need to contact Alexander and tell him I took care of it.”

“Do it tomorrow,” Jason urged, pulling her into his arms. “Doll, you’re exhausted. Even I can tell.”

“I’m fine,” she retorted but his arms tightened around her.

“I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you if I have to,” he threatened, and she hissed.

“I am not a sack of potatoes.”

“So, you’re going to walk willingly?” he asked, blinking those pretty teal eyes expectantly and she scowled at him.

“Fine.” (Y/N) started towards the stairs, him grinning as he followed.

“(Y/N),” Bruce called, and she stopped, glancing back at him.

“Yes?”

He didn’t look at her. “Can I expect more of these again? Or any of you? That form specifically?”

“Lycans? Not likely. Vampires? More likely. Me though?” she shook her head. “No, I’m the only one of my kind in this dimension.”

“This dimension?” Tim queried and stuck himself to her side. “Are you from another dimension?”

(Y/N) blinked down at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“That’s not a no.”

She smirked, ruffling his hair. “Tell you later. How about that?”

His lips pursed, but after a moment he nodded. “Can we test your stamina and any other limits you’ve got?”

“Sure Tim,” she agreed and took Jason’s hand. “Hundred bucks says I can give your dad a run for his money.”

He grinned. “I’ll take that bet.”

(Y/N) waved at the others and leaned on him as they walked up the stairs in silence.

***

He’d already changed out of his suit and slipped on a pair of boxers when she stepped out of the bathroom and immediately collapsed beside him on the bed, letting out a groan.

“Tired?” he chuckled, rolling over to lay on his stomach, hand caressing her back.

(Y/N) nodded. “It’s odd. I don’t get tired like I used to when I first started out but…”

“But?” Jason encouraged and she turned her face to look at him.

“But I’ve noticed that when I spend long amounts of time in my Vampire Lord form, I revert back and am just overcome with fatigue.” She exhaled deeply and buried her face in the mattress before inching up to lay her face just below the pillow. “I’m tired,” she said, voice muffled against the fabric and Jason snorted, raising up.

He straddled her hips, pressing himself against her and smirked at the curious noise she made when he yanked the towel away leaving her exposed. Jason dug his hands into her skin, kneading every knot she’d gathered the past few months.

(Y/N) groaned into the sheets as he squeezed her shoulders, digging his thumb into the curve of her back muscle and she couldn’t help but shift slightly, the relief almost shy of painful. It was, however, the price to pay for all she’d put her body though recently.

“I think you’re more knotted up than a fishing net,” he murmured, massaging her sides.

She grunted and wiggled her hips, listening to him inhale sharply. “Can’t help it,” she said. “I knot easily.”

Jason smirked and shifted back slightly, hands moving down to knead the flesh of her lower back and haunches. “You must be happy to have me as your personal de-knotter.”

“Could be happier,” she countered, gasping silently when he pinched her rear. “Jason!” she hissed and shot a look over her shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

He blinked innocently. “Do what?”

“I will punch you,” she warned, and he rolled his eyes.

“No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” she shot back, eyes widening at the audacity. “I won’t punch you? Who do you think you’re talk—oh wow,” (Y/N) inhaled sharply when he cupped her, fingers sliding between her thighs.

“What was that?” Jason asked and she groaned his name.

“Jason…”

He hummed, middle finger twitching enough that it had her arching back. “What do you want?”

“I’d personally rather die than beg you to finger me,” she hissed and placed her hands out away from her and shifted, sliding her legs from underneath him. (Y/N) turned over and propped herself up against the pillows, curling her pointer finger up at him.

Jason started crawling up the bed. “So, what will it take for you to beg?”

“Depends on what you want me to beg for, darling,” she countered, elegantly raising a leg, placing her foot on his shoulder. “But I’m sure you could persuade me to lower myself enough.”

He chuckled and reached up, grabbing the top of her foot as he leaned forward and she bent it, letting her heel rest on his back. Jason pushed her other thigh apart, exposing her and he looked up at her, waiting.

“Want permission?” she queried with a smile and he pressed a kiss to her thigh.

“Can’t come without it…isn’t that how that goes?” he teased and (Y/N) rolled her eyes, reaching down to grab his chin.

She tipped his head up and whispered, “Love me, darling. Like you want to.” Jason’s eyes darkened as he swallowed thickly and she pulled her hand away, resting it on her stomach. “Going shy on me?” (Y/N) murmured and propped her other arm behind her head so she could watch him. “But you look so pretty.”

“You’re a witch, you know that?” he countered and shifted her legs further apart. “You enjoy the power, don’t you?”

(Y/N) hummed. “I’m not called a ‘Lord’ for nothing, darling.” She groaned when he nipped up her thigh to her center. “My power isn’t challenged often.”

“I guess I’m just cocky enough to challenge,” Jason shot back before dragging his tongue up her center, smirking when she gasped, the leg over his shoulder tensing.

She reached down and carded her fingers through his hair. “Or foolish,” she breathed, grip on his tresses tightening when he circled her clit with his tongue. “Jason,” (Y/N) moaned, arching her back in need.

His only response was a groan that had her shivering as it sent shocks throughout her body and then he was sliding his middle finger into her, pumping it quickly.

“More,” she begged, and he obeyed, sliding another finger into her, curling them repeatedly until he found that spot inside her that had (Y/N) writhing, hips lifting with every pump.

Each time he gave her a sharp suck, she tugged his hair, pricking his scalp with points of pain and he returned it with low groan that had her whining and pulling him closer to her. At one point, she’d forgone watching him, tipping her head back, letting out little “Ah-ah-ah’s” and Jason knew the higher pitched she got, the closer the was and all it spurred him to do was make it happen faster.

Her thighs began to close around him and before he knew it, she was grabbing at his shoulders and yanking him up to kiss him. Jason kept curling his fingers and she gripped his wrist, stopping him.

“What’re you doing?” he questioned, pulling away to look into her ember eyes. They were blown wide with desire and she shook her head.

“I want you inside me.”

“I was,” Jason breathed heavily, though he removed his fingers and started shimmying off his underwear.

(Y/N) took his length in her hand and pumped him a few times, smiling breathlessly when he cursed and squeezed the flesh under her thigh still over his shoulder. “Not the part of you I want inside anymore.”

He took his length in his hand, guiding himself until he was up against her core, but he stopped and gazed at her. “Beg me.”

“I hate you,” she hissed, and he smirked.

“Hate sex is fun too, doll. We can do that instead if you want, but you’re still going to beg a little.” Jason leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling it with his teeth.

“Jason,” she whined. “Please.”

“Little more,” he coaxed when he pulled off, heading for the other one and she cocked her other leg around his hip.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” (Y/N) barked. “Fuck me already, you ass.”

Jason smirked and sheathed himself in one thrust, both of them gasping at the ripple of pleasure; his chest was heaving as he looked down at her. “How do you want it?”

“Fast,” she pleaded. “Fast and hard, please, Jason. Please.”

He grunted and pulled out only to thrust back in, setting a harsh pace that had her shouting, back curving up against him. Jason bent forward, pushing her leg into her chest and she dropped her head back.

“Fuck,” she groaned, feeling him deep inside her and he chuckled, though it sounded strained against her skin.

“Hard enough for you?” he growled, pinching one of her nipples and she nodded rapidly.

“Yes, yes, Jason. Keep going. More.”

He huffed a laugh. “Whatever will it take to please you?” Jason captured her lips in a searing kiss as he felt her slip a hand between them, and then she was tightening around him. “Shit,” he cursed, breaking their kiss and he gazed at her. “Doll…” he panted; his voice was taut, and he could feel it coming faster and faster.

(Y/N) whimpered beneath him and cupped his cheek. “Darling, please,” she begged, and that needy voice was the final push. Jason buried his face in her neck and moaned her name desperately as he spilled himself, hips stuttering and then she was gasping in his ear, clenching, and pulsing around him.

They both laid there panting, trying to catch their breaths for what seemed like an hour, then Jason helped her lower her leg before he eased himself out, collapsing beside her. (Y/N), very slowly, turned over and tucked herself underneath his arm, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart.

“You know…” he started. “That was supposed to be a slow and gentle lovemaking.”

(Y/N) snorted, wrapping her arm around his waist. “We can do slow in the morning.” She looked at him. “Now was the time we tired ourselves out so we can sleep longer.”

“Oh? Is that what that was?” he asked with a grin and she nodded.

“Indeed, it was,” she answered and laid her head back on his chest, eyes starting to slip shut.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mhm?”

“I want you to know that my decision hasn’t changed.”

Her eyes opened but she didn’t look at him. “Truly?”

“I want to be with you. Now…and forever.”

For a moment, she was quiet, then she said, “I want you to spend one whole year talking to your family. If after one full year, you have gained their approval of this choice…then we’ll start the process and I’ll make you vampire.”

“Really?” he asked. “Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

“You won’t regret doing it?”

(Y/N) turned her head, gazing into his eyes. “I regret many things in my life, Jason. But I would never regret you.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, then murmured, “Nor I you.”

She smiled and reached up, grazing her fingers against his cheek. “Now that that has been settled, it is time to rest.”

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?” he asked, and she hummed.

“Always, darling. Always and forever.”

[yansurnummu]

...Like Winter

Ultimately, it was Donobhan's choice to leave his clan. But, years later, that doesn't change the loneliness he feels.

Many spirits called the tundras east of Hjaalmarch home. Donobhan left them be, and they didn’t pay him much mind. Far from the Reach though he was, he was a Spiritblood in his heart, and wayward spirits of circumstance caused him no discomfort.

But, there was one he saw, different from the rest, dressed in dark tones, hair blood red with the light of the setting sun. Often they stood in the corner of his vision, a slender shape off in the hills and glaciers, and when he turned to look, they were gone.

His gaze lingered where he swore the ghost stood. It was odd, he thought; not often did mere spirits leave behind footprints in the snow. He could feel the residual power left in their wake; not magicka per se, but the aetherial energy of a being no longer of this plane, yet trapped here for one reason or another. It was familiar in some ways, yet unlike anything he had encountered at the same time.

In the evening, Donobhan played his flute by the campfire, with Calahan, the guardian wolf, curled up at his side. It was a somber tune, the Song of Gwyna, though it brought back to him memories of calm spring nights as the frost began to give way to the first hints of green beneath. As he played the melody, he could hear in his mind the voice of the Vateshran singing the words, could see the smiling faces of his family illuminated by the fire. 

There was a pang of loneliness in his chest as the memory overtook him. As the end of the song drew near, he pulled the flute back from his lips, feeling a bit untethered. In the language of his homeland, the last verse he sang aloud, alone.

“We will die, but will not care,

Rowolan's dream will be done.

The clan I love is doomed,

This season or the next,

It ought not die alone.”

In the quiet that followed, the snap of a twig was heard, and Calahan's head shot up from where he lay. The wolf snarled and barked, gaze fixed on something beyond the campfire's warm light. Curious, Donobhan picked up his staff and a hooded lantern from the side of his yurt, moving to investigate the sound. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he followed Calahan around the yurt. The wolf led him around the perimeter, but they found nothing.

"Come on. Whatever it is, it's gone now," Donobhan reassured him, heading back to the campfire.

But there was something there; Donobhan could feel it in the following weeks. That same energy, a power from beyond the grave. Calahan could sense it too, he supposed, though as time went on it seemed to trouble the wolf more than him. 

Something about the spirit brought him comfort. He felt almost as if he knew them, in a way. As he reached out to the magicka around him, he could feel them there, just out of sight as he played his flute. It became almost a nightly routine, playing for the spirit just as much as for his own enjoyment.

The soul he felt was a mirror of his own, and they were so sorrowfully, desperately alone.

As the snow began to melt in the valley and give way to grass and wildflowers, it felt like just that was enough. Donobhan felt heard, for the first time in a long time. But would it be greedy of him to want more?

The days grew long and the presence of the spirit diminished, and he yearned for that shadow he had grown to appreciate. He missed them, he realized, in an odd way. In the evening, he watched a spider spin its web above the padded entryway of his yurt, and it put his mind at ease.

The days waned once more in their length, the green draining from the valley like a river to the sea. Donobhan breathed in the scent of the first frost as the sun rose, an ill-advised sense of relief rising in his chest. Skyrim’s winters were cruel, of course; but, oh, how he longed to see his red-haired spirit.

The land froze once more as it became engulfed in near-eternal night, and Donobhan smiled to himself as multicoloured light danced across the sky, feeling whole again with the spirit nearby.

“I wish I could learn more about you,” he thought aloud. The silence was broken only by the crackling of the campfire as Donobhan thought more on it. What would he say if he could talk to the spirit?

“I don’t think your dog likes me very much.” 

Donobhan froze, the breath knocked from his chest as he processed what he had just heard. As he regained his senses, he quickly hushed Calahan, placing a hand firmly at his back in reassurance as the wolf growled in the direction of the voice. Donobhan turned to look behind him, eyes darting over the dark treeline.

“He’s– not usually like this. I swear, he’s real friendly once you get to know him,” Donobhan said quickly, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “Cal, stop it!” he hissed under his breath.

An amused chuckle sounded from the shadows beyond the campfire.

“Perhaps I’ll just stay out here for now, if that’s alright.” Their cadence was soft, staccato in a way that suggested their words were carefully chosen before they spoke, and their accent was one with which Donobhan was unfamiliar.

“Sure,” he replied. Calahan’s growling ceased, though his attention still fixed intently on the source of the voice. Donobhan laughed, a little giddy and disbelieving, as he saw the barest hint of red in the darkness. “Will you tell me your name, spectre?” He chanced after a moment.

“Asha-ammu,” they said, and Donobhan saw a flash of red as their eyes met for but a moment, like the haunting crimson light of Masser in the night sky.

“Asha-ammu,” he smiled as he tested it on his tongue. “That’s beautiful. I’m Donobhan.”