#my pale vampire with a soulless eyes

[wusopiejung25]

I UNDERSTAND YOU OP 😭😭 I literally screamed at everybody to not vote for any faces but his original design. WDYM HE NEEDS SOME REDESIGNING, HIS LOOK IS PERFECT AND FITTING HIS CHARACTER SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  He is how the story describe him, regal, has royal vibes in him, look unapproachable, but has a warm eyes. i’m gonna cry.  IF they do change his design, I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY OF YOU COMPLAINING BECAUSE YA’LL DON’T WANT TO HEAR ME AND I TOLD YOU SOOOOOOO And for vincent, i’m glad that they’ll fix his soulless eyes but i hope the design won’t be too far off from his relics, because vincent in his relics is absolutely gorgeous :((

I guess SoL2 is gonna come till the new Vincent model is ready?

and I'm going to commit crimes when Reuel model drops

[pursuitseternal]

Introducing “Love Me or Hate Me (for both work in my favour):” Enemies to Lovers, Gur!Tav x Astarion

Astairon x Tav (Katja) | E | 4k Chapter 1

Ask box fill from @thegoodwitchs-blog

Summary: Katja hates her circumstances of a tadpole in her head, but she hates him more. Gur by birth, monster hunter by trade like her people, it takes all her limited Barbarian control not to stake him in his sleep. As for him, she’s the same stock of vagrant that killed him all those centuries ago; punishing her should be fun and harmless… well, maybe just a little harmful.

CW: Enemies to Lovers, Hate sex, angry sex (DubCon?), manipulation, semi-public sex, jealousy, biting and mild choking, Act 1 spoilers

Ao3 Link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Ch. 1:Little Vagrant

Every single instinct in Katja’s body sat at high alert from the moment she met him. Since the moment he pulled a dagger on her, she should have disarmed him like her elders had taught her back in the village and staked him through the heart for good measure.

And that was before her worst suspicions had been confirmed.

Before she saw the after effects of his true nature, the morning after he bit her cleric.

Vampire… slave to sanguine hunger… monster…

Enemy.

But there were worse monsters to fight—Mindflayers. And he was too useful to dispatch, not while they had a healer to find and a Goblin camp to infiltrate and an Archdruid to save.

Katja would just have to let the monster’s undead heart keep beating at a dirge’s pace until she no longer needed him. His blades were too quick, his ferocity in battle unmatched, especially now that he could fight with knife and fang. She had to admit, it was thrilling to watch… his lithe movements, graceful and equally deadly as he fought. She understood why her people couldn’t let his kind live.

They were too powerful, too dangerous, and too beautiful.

Once, she stumbled on him bathing in the river, another gift of the tadpole to allow such a monster the ability to enter running waters without harm.

Pugh.

At first she had been revolted by the paleness of his skin and the scars on his back. It was… too disgusting for her to look away, she told herself. Too risky to leave him unobserved, unguarded. He could attempt to do anything… best to remain in hiding.

Crouching in the bushes, she heard him giggle. “Well, well, well. Our churlish leader…. You’d be a blight on your people if they knew you were… lusting after a soulless creature like me.” He turned those unnerving crimson eyes in her direction. “Likely they’d put your head on a pike just for thinking about what I look like naked, darling.” He smirked wickedly. “Tch, what a shame that would be to have one less Gur vagrant in the world.”

His lip twitched as she stood from her hiding place. Katja’s rounded human ears turned beet red in the dark, her long golden braids whipping her back as she spun on her heel and made for camp.

He won this battle. But she would win the war between them. His insufferable voice would quiet permanently someday, his shifting, crimson eyes would stare at her lifelessly. He would look so beautiful with a stake through his ribs.

He was a menace, and Katja was lucky by all the gods that he hadn’t killed her yet. She didn’t know why he had yet to drain her dry. Maybe his hunger was sated because he was drinking his fill from the Cleric every night. She rolled her eyes as she watched them each morning departing their shared tent. It made her sharpen her ax extra those mornings before battle. This day, they were headed for the Goblin camp, just beyond the village. And as they packed up camp, making their way over trails, Katja bristled as Astarion’s cold presence drew close.

“Are you alright, darling? Your pulse sounded this morning as if your feeble, mortal heat was bout to explode. I didn’t know that a Gur had a heart, much less that it could beat so childishly fast with jealousy,” he sneered down at her. Those sharp and sinister features were a good head and a half above her after all.

“Jealous? Pft,” Katja grimaced, shifting her pack on her shoulders. “Why would I be jealous of a creature with no soul, vampire?”

“It’s not my soul that interests you, I’ve noticed. It’s my body, and what I do with it…” his icy lips pressed nearer to her ear, almost touching, “and to whom I do said things…”

A dagger pressed into his ribs faster than he could draw a breath, a breath his undead body didn’t need. “Careful, monster,” Katja hissed. “Or I’ll be the one thrusting. You’ll be rammed on the point of my weapons, not unlike our poor Cleric whom you’ve beguiled.”

“She doesn't consider herself in such dire straits. In fact, she rather enjoys it. You should ask her, see what it is you’re missing out on…”

“I’d sooner skin a kobold,” she gagged. “The Cleric's choices are her own. If she wishes to sully herself with the undead, to damn her soul by feeding you her life essence, then so be it.”

Astarion paused in his tracks, laughing slowly. “Oh, I can’t tell if it would have been worth the risk to bite you instead.” He tilted his rumpled silver head, eyes assessing her every inch, noticing weaknesses in her hide armor, watching her fingers still twitching on her dagger’s hilt. “No, corrupting you and your narrow prejudices wouldn't be worth the risk of tasting your blood. I bet it’s sourer than vinegar and just as repellent.” He sneered so wide, she could almost see her reflection in the glint of his teeth.

“You try to bite me, and I will make a necklace from your teeth…” she hissed. “Once I pry them from your skull, Vampire.”

“Oh, I do like them feisty….” A single cold digit ran down her blushing cheek. Ice on her temper’s flames. A gentle caress, a lover’s touch. It made her whole frame go rigid in a second.

And it made Astarion chuckle, low and throaty as he continued on the path.

“Honestly, we could just leave the Druids and Tieflings to their own natural consequences,” the Vampire mouthed off as usual, complaining with his typical arrogance and selfishness. Leaning against the wall of the Shattered Sanctum, he gave his wicked half-smile to Shadowheart beside him.

Katja just shuffled her feet, switching the shoulder her greataxe rested on for a reprieve. “We can’t let a bunch of Goblins in league with the Absolute decimate a sacred grove,” she sneered, making that scar down the side of her left cheek twist. “But I don’t expect the Cleric of Shar and a fucking vampire to understand the sense behind it.”

Astarion raised his brow, his sinister smile turning to land on her instead. “Can’t you imagine just how wonderful the resulting chaos would be if we did?” He gave a deep and almost lewd sigh. “It would be… delicious.”

Rolling her eyes, Katja mumbled a curse in her native tongue, sure that neither of her least favorite companions would understand.

But given the way the vampire’s mouth curved down in distaste, she wasn’t so sure she was the only one in their midst to speak Gurri. Katja grimaced as she looked around the desiccated temple of Selûne, remembering all her childhood prayers to the goddess and ignoring the way the Sharran seemed to gloat at every violated shrine.

Honestly, they deserved each other, she decided with a derisive sniff. She had company enough with Gale, sweet and intelligent, and with Wyll, bold and legendary monster slayer himself.

Stuff of dreams and fantasies. The kind of man to make her tribe proud.

She should go and find him, the Blade of Frontiers, but her feet seemed frozen. If she left these two imps, what trouble would they get into… no. She needed to stay right where she was, even if it was vile and disgusting company.

“Shadowheart!” the Wizard’s voice hissed from behind a column, and all three of them turned around. Gale beckoned the Cleric forward. “We need to find where the Archdruid is being kept… but we also need to deal with a little… problem. This Priestess Gut seems to need a talking to, asking us about some brand and the worship of the Absolute. It’s your time to shine, Cleric of Shar, or… well, as a servant of the Goddess of Darkness, I guess you won’t shine so much as…”

Astarion huffed to interrupt the beginnings of another awkward and king ramble from their companion. “You can’t handle it, Wizard? Didn’t you used to fuck a Goddess and now what? Can’t handle a lowly Goblin priestess?”

“I’d be more than happy to handle this,” Shadowheart grinned. “It was getting a little too crowded in here for my tastes.” She shot a pointed glare with those green eyes towards their blonde Barbarian.

As the Cleric left with Gale, Astarion closed in on Katja, silently and stealthily until his body barely brushed her back. “You Gur always ruin all the fun,” he hissed in her ear. “Not the first time your kind has… spoiled my endeavors.”

She turned to face his glare, crimson and wroth. “I haven’t done anything to you, Vampire, not yet anyway. I’ve only found myself in the same predicament as you; such hatred for someone who could be your ally.”

“Or my sworn enemy,” he sneered, looking down this aquiline nose at her, this little Barbarian. “Don’t you have some throats to cut and innocents to swindle?”

“Or monsters to stake?” she sneered right back, unknowingly drawing her small and strong frame to stand toe to toe with him. Her face mere inches from his own, his breath washed down on her, cool and metallic in scent. And then that mouth twisted in a wicked smirk, opening to speak…

“C’mon,” a high-pitched, nasally voice giggled beside them as three Goblin children bolted past them. “That bear they captured is in the Worg pens. Bet we can make him roar!”

“Halsin,” Katja whispered, following the urchins at a distance as they weaved through the camp. She was small, but certainly not stealthy, and even as she managed to slip into the cells, the faint growls of a large animal’s rumbling in the distance, an ice cold hand shot out from behind her to pull her into the shadows.

A small storage room, just off the cell block, that’s where she was. Astarion’s hard, cold body pressed her against the wall, his finger over his lips to signal for her silence.

But her rage ignited, her nostrils flared, ready to burst. Quickly, his chilled palm closed over her mouth just in time to muffle the below of anger she gave. His frame crushed her, and that palm wasn’t enough to quiet her. Long, icy fingers closed around her throat, silencing her and shutting off her air.

Her breath ragged, she did the one thing her feral mind screamed for her to do. She bit him.

“You viper,” he hissed right in her ear. “Do you want us to get caught? Want to join the Druid in the cell?”

Katja only bit harder, struggling to fill her lungs.it made her body squirm against him, fighting to move to claw at him, but her arms were both pinned behind her back, already going numb. Writhing, she chased some unknown feeling… a blind need for release, her heart racing as her hips bucked against his thigh. His toned leg pressed harder between her thighs, the friction making her eyes tear as she struggled. She needed to break free, she told her brain, but her body, her core longed for a different release.

His laughter rumbled in her ear, the din of the dungeons thick enough to cover whatever little sounds they made in this small, neglected space. His thigh lifted her, pressing perfectly against her seam where she burned for more. Sparks of light crossed her vision, heat seared through her veins, and something pressed into her belly, something long and hard. His own icy, blood-stinking breath raced faster as he observed her grinding on his leg. And as she stared into his gaze, she watched as his eyes dilated, from crimson to black in seconds.

Shit, she cursed, unable to keep her body under command as she just squirmed more against that lean thigh and that protruding erection.

“Oh, little vagrant, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?” he hissed in her ear, rubbing that wet, cold tongue up its shell. “I can smell you, just how excited you are to be so close to your quarry. It’s a pity you chose a predator as your prey, darling. You see… you can thank the Cleric for her blood to sate my hunger, but she is rather closed off… or closed-thighed… when it comes to other hungers of mine.”

Fingers released her throat, his nails tearing into the laces of her breaches as she squirmed even harder. Cool, dank dungeon air made every hair on her now-bared mound and thighs stand on end as he tugged them down to her ankles.

“I know you want me, that you’re too proud and stubborn to seek it out for yourself. Allow me, darling, to show you what you’re miss—”

Silencing him, Katja freed one hand, launching it to close around his own scarred and pale throat.

A fang-toothed grin was his only reaction. “Oh, darling…” he rasped from beneath her knuckles. His fingers brushed the skin and curls of her mound and something untamed and hungry unleashed itself from within her. Her grip on his throat tightened, yanking that sneering mouth to hers. She wanted to devour him, to silence him and punish him in the only language he seemed to understand— the language of body and blood.

Jerking her shoulders, she freed her other hand, her nails tearing into the buttons of his own leathers. A growl in his throat, he gripped her ass, lifting her as if she were no more than a child to shove against the wall again. One hand squeezed around her mouth once more, keeping her moan muffled as he finally slotted himself inside her. The rough and ancient brick dug against her armor, padding her flesh from every jolting slap he made against her, his thrusts fast and punishing.

Air hissed through her nostrils, her dark eyes locked into his own, that crimson stare daring to do something. Kill him? Fuck him? Kiss him again? She knew not which. Her body cried out for all of them at once. Never mind the elders or the tribe or her gods.

Heat unlike anything she had known before coiled in her belly, drawn forth by his thick and cool cock inside her. Her teeth grinded into his hand again, drawing blood to coat her tongue. Making him smile. Making his tongue run over his lips, as if he barely bridled his own need to drink.

But her hand kept its place on his gullet, pushing to keep him at a distance once more. Careful not to risk his fangs and sell her soul to be his next meal.

His eyes rolled back and closed, his bone white fangs bared at her, inches from her flesh. Those thrusts grew hard and erratic, his breath whistling in time with hers. Pathetic, she grinned. The sight of him at her mercy burned itself into the back of her eyelids as pleasure burst from inside her, her body shaking as it squeezed him in wave after wave.

One last thrust and he groaned in her face, jaws snapping on air as if he wished it was her neck. Her hand gave one last punitive squeeze of his throat before she released him. Crimson eyes opened halfway, still hazy with lust. A sly snarl twisted his lips as he set her small and muscular frame down.

Disgust roiled in her belly as she ignored the way his cum leaked from inside her. No, she kept her mind on fixing her breeches, a hard task to do as she watched him do the same as he stuffed his half-softened cock inside those form-fitted leathers. Katja tried to swallow the drool that collected in her mouth as she straightened.

His hand ran through his hair, those dangerous lips parting to speak again when shouting sounded from the cells. The bear roared, iron bars clanged as then burst from their hinges and smashed to the ground. Before they could think about what passed between them any longer, monster and monster hunter grabbed their weapons and bolted towards the fray.

Gale turned, launching his magic missiles at the Goblins nearest them. “Oh good, there you both are,” he turned and fired off a few more in the opposite direction. “We thought maybe you had finally killed each other.”

“Something like that,” Astarion replied calmly, despite the smug glare he leveled at Katja. It made her ears burn beet red with hate again. But as she gripped her greataxe and launched into battle, she wasn’t sure if it was hatred more for him or for her own actions.

A few cleaving swings through Goblin flesh, and she knew it was hate for him.

For what he made her feel, for what he made her choose to do, she would hate him forever.

Wine flowed freely, but gods, what Katja would give for a flask of her tribe’s liquor, clear as glass and hotter than the Styx. Or a pint of mead. But neither was within reach. The green glass of her sweet red wine bottle pressed nearly constantly to her mouth. Anything to try to numb the feeling of his cum still dried to her thighs.

He would pay for this. But not tonight. Tonight they celebrated. Many monsters slain; many questions answered, even if those answers only gave rise to more questions. Halsin, the ancient and wise Archdruid loomed over her. More than anyone else. Gods, he could probably eat her in one bite as a bear. Good thing he was a Druid and no monster, she smiled to herself.

She let herself go numb, drinking and listening to the ancient elf talk about this Shadow Curse and the freedom of nature’s gifts… she ignored the way Astarion kept one hand on Shadowheart’s narrow waist, his face pressing into her neck where bite mark scars were beginning to form.

Trying not to gag on her wine, Katja rolled her eyes as they came closer. Halsin’s eyes scanning them all. “I should thank you all for coming to my rescue. It’s nice to be among friends. A wonderful balance to find, if surprising, to see monster and monster hunter as lovers…”

Katja spat her wine out at her feet. “How… the fuck…”

“Forgive me, my wild form tends to lend me heightened senses even in this state, and let’s just say, the nose knows, eh?”

Astarion’s eyes pinned on her, wild and accusatory. “I don’t know…” he started to shirk off the suggestion, even as the Cleric rounded on him.

“Oh, so that’s where you two disappeared to in the camp today.” Her vitriolic scoff hurt more than an arrow would have into Katja’s stomach. Actually she would have preferred the arrow. “No, no makes sense. You always claim to love a challenge, what better place to try to sheathe your little dagger than the one person who hates you.” She narrowed her green eyes at him, “I won’t worry then about keeping you well-fed or strong. Maybe I can find someone who enjoys my devotion to my lady instead of whining about your hunger every day.” The Cleric gave a nice, long, and dramatic sigh, “Well, if that’s over, I’ll be glad to save the spell slots from having to keep myself from being bloodless every day. Thank you, Katja, for doing me that favor.” The sarcasm in her tone lingered long after she strode away, losing herself in the fray of the party.

The glare that Astarion threw Katja shouldn’t have hurt at all, let alone more than the bitchy glares from Shadowheart, but it did. It was a piercing look of malice and disappointment as he strode after her, lies pouring from his thick lips to try to smooth things over.

“I… I’m sorry if that was a secret,” Halsin tilted his head as he watched the drama unfold. “Over three centuries in this realm and I can still be taken out at the knees by surprise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Katja replied, wiping the stains of red wine from her jerkin. “It was a mistake, nothing more. I may have left with a stain on my conscience, but my soul is intact at least.” She pointed her finger at her neck. “I won’t be bitten, even if I’m fucked.”

Halsin shook his head, laughing. “I forgot how deeply superstitious your people are, little child of the Gur. To think that a vampire’s bite has any effect on your soul,” he smiled gently and chuckled, “you might feel a bit woozy, but by Silvanus’ beard, you won’t lose one bit of your warrior soul.”

Katja’s spine straightened, as if shot once again in the gut. “I’d call you a liar, but you’re a Druid…” she whispered, more fearful for own good.

Halsin’s own scarred face twisted in mirth as he gave a deep belly laugh. “Implying I can’t lie?” He chuckled harder, “a good thing that isn’t the case. But I assure you, a vampire has no interest in your soul. They aren’t fiendish, just hungry and often imprisoned by the whims of their masters.”

Katja tilted her head, considering. Their masters… she turned to scan the crowd for that mop of silver hair or a hint of glaring crimson eyes. If Astarion was a spawn, where was his master? That haze of hatred seemed to part for a moment, a moment of lucidity amid the burning hatred, and Katja realized what a poor hunter she had been. What were his weaknesses and ambitions? What would bait him into the open or control him enough to bring him to heel?

She’d have to get closer to him to discover that. And that thought made her stomach wrap tightly in knots and made her heart set at a galloping pace.

As if summoned by her loping heart, he stepped into her line of sight, browline furrowed, half his fangs bared as he smirked. A single finger crooked in her direction. And Katja made a visible point to check her dagger before crossing towards him. “You seem to be alone,” she smirked, tucking her weapon back home at her hip.

“Thanks to you,” he sneered slightly, the clench of his jaw a slight tell to the rage simmering beneath that cool, alabaster exterior. “You owe me…” he snarled, quiet and pressed from behind his clenched teeth. “Because you, you grub, didn’t have the decency to clean yourself after your little moment of weakness today, I’ve lost my tentmate and meal ticket,” his voice was cold and exacting, a none-too-slight of a threat hidden beneath that refined exterior.

She just tossed her long, blonde braids behind her. “Needless to say, it was your choice today to do that, too,” Katja rolled her shoulders, squaring up for a fight.

“Oh, little brat, always angling for combat,” he suddenly eased, a well-practiced, sultry smile on his handsome face, “it’s bad form to discuss such… personal matters in the open.” He cocked his head, looking down at her seething, defiant glare. “Let’s find a little piece of nowhere, a place to… discuss all this madness like two mature creatures.” His crimson eyes shimmered like the shitty wine in her near-empty bottle. Extending a cold, pale hand at her, he drew close, invading her space. “Truce?”

She just narrowed her eyes, disbelieving the sincerity of such a gesture. Refusing to take his hand in hers. “Where?” she snipped.

His predatory grin widened enough to bare his glinting fangs. “There's a secluded place nearby that will do nicely… far enough away so no one will hear you scream…” his voice scratching into a growl.

“You mean from when you try to kill me?”

Thick lips twisted dangerously as he took a breath. “Death… a little death… it’s all the same, little brat,” his gaze hardened, “isn’t it?”

Katja glared at him, her mouth twisting to hide her confusion, sure there was a hidden meaning in his words she failed to recognize. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she sassed back at him, confident outwardly…. Only to be discouraged as his grin intensified and as he gripped her hand by force. One yank, and she was pulled against the hard planes of his chest. This time there was no armor to hide the feeling of his skin or to conceal that sharp, clean scent of citrus and herbs.

“Oh, but you do know, better than anyone now,” he growled into her ear before shoving her away again. “There’s a clearing,” he jerked his head to his right, “we can meet there, no weapons, no axes. We can discuss our truce with just the clothes on our backs, what do you say?”

Katja just stared at him, fuming and stoic.

“Or are you too cowardly to meet a monster alone?”

“See you there, asshole,” Katja snarled before turning away, wine bottle raised high above her little blonde head to drink. Draining the dregs of that disgusting vintage, she smashed it against a tree before entering the dark, moonlit forest.

[androgynouspoetry]

Vampire Teen Angst

A silent dark figure glided down the long wooden hall. It came to a stop in front a wide mirror-tall as the molding would let it. The clad in black shadow moved a pale hand from the darkness and into the dim light, almost to touch the mirror. Its hand looking sickly frail with the skin almost transparent-purple and blue veins running under its cold flesh. It touched its finger tips against the cool mirror and let out a shaky breath unneeded. The reflection…it’s ghastly reflection.

“…”

Just then a second tall figure placed a heavy hand on its shoulder.

“Don’t look. You know it messes with your head.”

The smaller figure moved its hand from the mirror as if burned.

“…he should have stuck to silver backings. It’s cruel to have modern ones.”

The taller shadow clenched his jaw, his animalistic canines piercing his warm lip.

“He thought we would miss seeing us.”

The smaller shadow whipped around, his milky white and pale blue eyes burning with a fury that came from no soul.

“Us? Us?! Can we call what’s in the reflection “us”?!”

He stepped into the low light, showcasing the appearance he cursed. His skin pale and sickly translucent, his body lean bordering boney in his thin wrist, his hair dark and stringy, ears pointed and near pink inside, and his face…thin enough for the bone of his cheeks to near kiss his eyes. And his eyes milky blue, sunken in and soulless. His lips thin and crack, gums receded showcasing a sharp angry mouth like a rabid dogs.

“LOOK AT ME! I’m horrifying-disgusting! A corpse who knows not that it’s died long ago!”

His black sweater hung loose on his hungry body. The taller man let out a sigh of annoyance-not in anger but as if they’ve had this talk before. He also stepped into the light.

“Tim, you’ll get better once you eat! We’ve been through this the past 50 years! It’s not the 1970’s anymore-you…you need to move past this! It’s not healthy to starve yourself!”

Dick looked concerned and pleaded to Tim to eat, over and over and over again. Dick-taking to the life as a vampire fairly quick-had long since fed whenever he felt the want for fat on his body, weight on his hips and color on his caramel cheeks. Unlike Tim’s walking corpse Dick drunk the blood of the living, just like his father and siblings. He had meat on his bones, healthy weight to his face. He had full black hair with shining blue eyes and full lips that hid strong teeth and perfect gums where his livelihood was retracted.

“Healthy? Do I look like I fucking care?! You know what happened! All of you! I didn’t ask for this!”

With that he stormed down the dark hallway leaving behind a worried brother.

“…I was never this difficult.”

The man in a dark red robe came down from the high ceiling.

“True but you were already being raised by vampires. Just give him time, he’s been through something horrific. He’ll come around one of these decades.”

Dick let out a groan at Bruce’s words of “comfort”.

“Never thought I’d miss the 50’s so much. I totally would have given him some cocaine.”

“DICK NO-“

(Hi guys! I know it’s been awhile and I’m excited abt posting for tomorrow, but for now I just wanted to give a little drop of what’s been stewing in my head. Just a prompt of spooky Batfam. I think I might add on to this if you guys like it, might make it a series cause of all the ideas I have for it! I just love the idea of like traditional vampire lore with some other stuff. Like vampires not able to see their reflection back in the day being because mirrors were made with silver which wouldn’t be all that common in todays world which is why Tim is able to see his reflection. I also threw in my own little thought that vampires are kinda like that once scene in that smurfs movie where the old woman gets young again and “plump? And stuff when Gargemel used his magic. I think of them like the dried out version of fruit if they don’t have any blood in their system. Like they don’t only eat blood to help the hunger but to also feel and look more alive, hence why Dick has warm skin and a more healthy and alive look-he ate recently. The blood of someone else’s keeps his body warm. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and happy pre Halloween! 🎃)

[unstablerk800]

Party Punch

Pairing: RK900/Fem!Reader, RK800/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (I'm lazy, everything is mature)

Warnings: none really, harmless fluff (wind down fic in between Soulless chapters, haha!)

Description: A hot priest and a hot vampire appears at the Halloween party and someone spiked the punch. That is definitely a recipe for disaster for you and your friend.

Word count: 2,988

Read on Ao3.

Chapter 1.: Nines 🔽

Chapter 2.: Connor

"Oh my God. Nines is here."

"No way!" Your friend gasped when she turned and noticed Nines enter the room.

You both had been teasing each other about the crush both of you had on the two androids at your station. Frankly, Nines was a piece of art; Connor already made both of you foam at the mouth but Nines's professionalism sealed it for you. Your friend had a raging crush on Connor but you were drawn to Nines instead. You often planned in private that she'd date Connor and you'd date Nines; it was a fun, harmless game you could fantasize about while you were between solving crimes. Talking about what sort of dates you two would go, how they'd like to do 'mundane human dates', wondering if they'd even enjoy it at all, and always coming to the conclusion that it'd never happen.

They were androids. They were made to solve crimes, not to mingle with humans. Even if they deviated.

And then Nines just showed up there at the Halloween party like he was doing you both a favour. You couldn't remember if anyone even invited him, but fuck, he was there, and...

"He dressed as a fucking priest", you had to look away to stifle the laughter that bubbled up in you, making it look like you were really interested in the muffins at the table behind you.

"A fucking hot priest", your friend added. "Oh my God he's really serving us all."

You couldn't help it. You burst into giggling.

"PILF!" The whisper escaped you and your friend giggled.

"What?"

"Priest I'd like to f-"

You didn't finish, and you didn't have to (your friend laughed uncontrollably anyway), just grabbed a muffin and stuffed it in your face. It was filled with chocolate and it tasted so much better than you expected.

You blamed your hormones and your undying horniness for Nines.

When you were ready, you turned to face the crowd again. There were quite a few interesting takes on what people figured would be a good costume; and some - like Hank Anderson - didn't even bother. Connor chose to be a vampire, his set complete with vampire fangs, an elegant black suit and a red-black cape; it was another running joke at the station because he kept sampling stuff at crime scenes and Hank started to call him thus. Gavin decided to be a cat - he looked uncharacteristically cute with his black cat ears and fluffy kitty tail and mittens.

Your friend decided to come as an angel. She had big fluffy wings attached to her back, a glittery-shiny halo over her head, and silver-pale blue makeup. She was gorgeous in her white dress.

And you? You were her friend, and naturally, you were a little devil. Dressed in a red dress similar to hers, with a devil's tail and devil's horns. Your makeup was fiery red with black glitter.

Now, it was twice as funny how Nines dressed up as a priest. He walked over to Connor to tell him something.

"Oh how I wish I could corrupt him", you sniggered to your friend and she giggled.

It was weird how they both looked at you two at the same time, but you both just blushed and pretended that something else was so much more interesting. Your eyes wandered at the party punch on another table, while your friend observed the paper bats that hung from the ceiling.

"Gonna get something to drink", you decided, "want some?"

"Yeah. Yeah, some punch sounds good."

You made a beeline for the table, swaying your hips to the music a bit with a little smile on your face. You were so excited for the party which got ten times more interesting - not because Nines showed up, of course not. You poured some punch in two glasses and walked back to your friend. You both sipped it at the same time, giggling to each other like two schoolgirls.

"I can taste real rum", your friend commented and you nodded.

Refill after refill, both of you were reduced to two giggling girls who kept to themselves at a corner, politely answering anyone who approached you two, but letting them leave - and always resuming to the topic of hot androids. You loved your friend because there was no harm in having fun with her; she teased you about Nines and you teased her about Connor, giggling and blushing to yourselves.

"I'm guessing we're not driving tonight", you giggled, "I could think of someone who could drive me home~"

"And who might that be?"

The familiar monotone voice made you spin your head around and up. Nines quirked a brow to show his curiosity in your answer. You felt your friend nudge you, invisible to him, telling you silently that this was probably a chance for you to finally crack the ice between you two.

How inappropriate your answer would be, though? What would Nines say and moreover, think of you? Oh God, you were already overthinking and the more you looked in those calculating, cool eyes, the more heat rose to your cheeks.

To Hell with it, the rum said in your system, already making you more courageous than ever. It's been long since you've had alcohol, and it never was your good friend. Probably wouldn't be your saviour now, either.

"A hot priest, maybe?"

The reaction to your answer wasn't spectacular, but his eyes seemed to darken with a new, unknown shadow, and your cheeks were as red as your dress when you've noticed his LED started to spin in a beautiful, although alarming, amber colour.

Your friend snort laughed in her punch, but all you picked up was the ringing in your ears. You did it. You idiot, you did it. And you couldn't take it back.

You ruined it.

Nines will never take you seriously ever again and whenever you'll have to look at him or talk to him, you'd be reminded of this conversation and this exact expression on his face all the time from now on. You were a bit too tipsy to figure out what he was possibly thinking, but he had been known to strictly guard his expression at all times anyway.

Androids didn't get drunk. Humans did. Androids didn't do stupid things like this. Humans did.

His almost completely guarded expression made you bit your lip. To do something, you ever so innocently moved the straw between your lips and sucked the last of the punch out of your plastic cup. The slurping noise definitely did not help making you look and sound professional at all.

"I think it would be best if I took you home right now", Nines finally spoke, making your stomach tingle with nervousness and causing your face to burn with embarrassment.

"I don't think I-", you were eager to protest, but he cut you off.

"Now", he repeated coolly.

You glanced at your friend who looked back at you serious; the smiles and giggles were gone. At least she sobered up just as much as you did; not much, but enough not to embarrass you more. Another thing you loved her for.

"I'll call you", you mumbled, placing your cup down on the table nearby.

He spun on his heels and led the way out and you followed him like a scolded puppy. You picked your jacket up and put it on; he didn't have, neither did he need one, so he stopped near the door to wait for you.

There was no escape, and you weren't looking forward to the embarrassing talk you'd get during the drive.

The last day of October was very cold, but at least it wasn't raining. He had one of those automatic cars that didn't really need a driver, and it beeped softly without Nines doing anything other than walk towards it. Right, you thought, must be an android thing; he probably could connect to other machines.

That always intrigued you. You were so curious what was he really capable of other than sampling stuff real time, reconstruct events and analyze data. You sighed to yourself, reminding yourself that you ruined the chance to ever know. He wouldn't want to talk to you after this.

Nines didn't need to punch in the destination; he just needed to use his special connection with another machine to make the engine whir to life and start driving. Your cheeks still burned and you didn't dare to look at him when you saw he glanced at you from the corner of your eyes.

"Did you mean it?" He asked quietly, surprising you.

"Did I mean what?" You asked as you finally looked back in his eyes.

He hesitated. The planet's most advanced android actually hesitated. His LED still was spinning in yellow.

"What you've said."

You blinked at him stupidly. He wanted you to repeat that sentence? You didn't think he'd embarrass you even further. Oh God, you wished Hell would just swallow you right there.

But perhaps his curiosity was genuine? You couldn't determine. Was he... did he feel insecure?

The rum said, once again, to Hell with it. You'd burn all of your bridges down anyway, didn't you? He'd never look at you the same way ever again, so you might as well get it all off your chest.

He'd ignore you, starting from tomorrow, anyway.

"Oh, Nines", you sighed, "you're the hottest man I've ever laid eyes upon."

He stared at you with a look that you understood as disbelief.

"You're mocking me", he concluded.

Now it was your turn to look at him bewildered.

"No", you frowned. "I'm serious."

When he said nothing, you felt like you needed to prove your point. And your tongue couldn't be stopped. Damned party punch. You didn't dare to look at him, though; wouldn't want to see his reaction to your stupid babbling.

"The first day I saw you I had to make a conscious effort not to stare. You looked so amazing as you walked in like you owned the place, all serious and professional. I had to make myself look away from where you sat but I couldn't focus on my work all day. Do you have any idea how hard it is when you're around?" You pouted now. "Of course not, you probably have no idea. And then you started to work and solved crimes and turned out that you're so bloody good at it, I mean there's a reason I'm trying so hard because it's so inspiring to have you around and-"

You paused, sighing as you deflated on the seat. You glanced at your hands with a pout, but you prayed your tears back where they belonged. You'd have so much time to cry yourself to sleep tonight, because this was the most embarrassing experience of your rather short life. You'd ask for a transfer the next time you went to work for sure. You wouldn't be able to stay in the same place with him.

You didn't dare to glance at him as you bit your lower lip, fighting your emotions in silence. But he appeared to be relentlessly curious.

"And?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, and you shrugged.

"And I think I'm hopelessly in love with you", you finished.

You thought that saying it out loud would fix your problems. That this craving would finally vanish, and it'd never return. But no, it was actually worse, because it was true. You really were in love with him.

All those micro expressions he exposed to the station, those little things he noted out loud to others to signal that he had noticed, the way he had saved Gavin's life more than once even though Reed was an asshole to him... Nines was a deviant, he wasn't bound by his programming or CyberLife anymore, but the acts of service, his seriousness when it came to his line of work made your love for him grow and grow until it was unbearable.

And then there were those little things.

There was one occasion when you forgot your tea on the counter in the break room and he brought it over to your desk. You were genuinely surprised as you looked up at him, especially when he made a comment that it was indeed healthier than coffee and that he was glad that you showed a good example to the others.

Or when twelve folders accidentally slipped out from your hands, scattering about on the floor, and you wanted to pull your hair out - organizing them was a tedious work, at least an hour, if not more, for you anyway -, and he volunteered to help you, gathering, analyzing and organizing the folders in the matter of minutes.

Or that one time when you dislocated your shoulder during a mission and for some crazy reason you asked him to set it right - and he did. Sure, he made you scream as he yanked the bones back where they belonged, but you didn't want to go to the hospital, and he helped you without dismissing or making fun of you for it.

You just realised now that he was showing little acts of kindness towards you. And that realisation made it even worse. You could've been friends with him, and you ruined it before it could even happen.

"I thought you were in love with Connor."

His quiet words made your eyes widen in disbelief and you finally looked at him. You nearly fainted. He was smiling. But there was also a shade of... blue tint... over his cheeks? You were bewildered at the sight. Was he blushing? Androids blushed?? He blushed because of your confession? Your head was spinning.

"It should've been obvious", he continued now, actually chuckling to himself. "It makes sense now."

Your throat was as dry as the fucking Sahara.

"What makes sense?"

"Every time I approached you, your eyes glazed over, you blushed, your pulse elevated, your pupils dilated. You were stuttering so much in the beginning, too, when you talked to me."

You hid your face in your hands. He remembered that! The way you were trying to reply to his questions - you were mortified he reminded you of that!

"I've always thought that you were afraid of me", he continued calmly. You made a squeaky noise behind your hands. You sort of were afraid of him, but also entirely enamoured by him, too. "Your reactions fit the fight or flight response. But then Valentine's day happened earlier this year."

"Oh my God", you squeaked again, but Nines still was relentless.

"It was a clever move, I'll admit", he added, "but there was a crucial detail you've both forgotten when you both left your envelopes on our desks. You've printed the cards in a public print shop", how did he figure that out?! "And there were no fingerprints", you exhaled sharply; at least you didn't fuck that up, "but I could detect a special dust on Connor's envelope. It wasn't dust, though." He paused and you chanced a glance at him, pulling your hands into fists, still covering your mouth with them. "Tea", he gave you the answer when your eyes met again. "Your tea, to be precise. You seem to like that brew, and I could identify it. My envelope, though, had some dog fur on."

You wanted to bite into your fingers. You successfully made him believe you sent a Valentine's card to Connor, and that your friend sent yours to him - it was hilarious, if not slightly terrible for confusing two wonderfully innocent androids.

"Up until lately, I've had no idea you two switched the envelopes with your friend", he confessed.

"Lately?" You whined, wondering what betrayed you and your friend.

"I've started to pay a bit more attention to her during this summer", Nines half smiled. "And I've identified the same reactions you have for me whenever Connor spoke to her. Interestingly, neither of you had the same response in a switched situation. If I walked up to her desk, for example, she was completely unbothered, and you were always polite and kind to Connor but he couldn't detect a change in your body language and vitals."

"You two were experimenting with us??" You whined in disbelief.

"We wanted answers", he quirked a brow now. "And neither of you ever told us the truth why were you both acting the way you did. You both dismissed as being 'excited' about your works." He smiled again. God, did he look good when he was smiling! How unfair of the world, how cruel! "So we didn't know. Until tonight."

"I shouldn't've told you", you whispered.

"It wasn't you", Nines shrugged, "it was Hank."

"Hank?!"

"He overheard your friend sighing to herself how handsome Connor was, so we decided to interrogate you separately." Nines looked so proud of himself. "I didn't need to do much, so I must thank Gavin."

Your head really was spinning from all the information. You hid your face in your hands again.

"Gavin??"

"He sneaked the rum in the party punch", Nines half smiled.

"I'll kill him", you squeaked and that got a chuckle out of him.

"I'm afraid you won't really have the energy after tonight to kill him", his words made you as red as a rose as you chanced a look at his smug expression, "all that remains now is to forward the information to Connor."

"Oh no!" You thought of your friend and her steadily approaching doom.

"It's only fair, don't you think?" The car stopped in front of your house and after switching a few buttons, Nines looked back at you with a look that you identified with unbridled lust. "You both gave us quite the headache, so to speak." Seeing you squirm and detecting your undoubtable arousal, Nines decided to make it even worse for you. "You've been so, so naughty..."

[gunmetalgrey]

@sorrowsick making me look bad bc I haven’t done my vampire lore:

* Alex was turned somewhere around 800 AD and therefore has experienced a lot of differences in her curse over this time. When she started out, the magic needed to keep her alive was a lot weaker and therefore she had less consequences for breaking laws/superstitions. Alex now also doesn’t drink fresh human blood which means she is weaker than someone her age (or older) who does. She’s still far stronger than baby vamps but it’s not easy.

* Alex was born a witch, and lost all ability to do magic when she died. You have to possess a soul to possess magic, which Alex doesn’t anymore.

* Sunlight affected Alex in the first 20/30 years after her transformation, these days it’s a mild irritation at best. If she doesn’t drink human blood, this is one of the symptoms that becomes far worse. She tried to drink animal blood for a while however she started to receive terrible scalding burns and had to switch back as the curse wasn’t able to sustain her.

* Alex doesn’t sleep, her body doesn’t know how to rest but she’s got quite good at meditating over the years and will often lie with someone else who is sleeping for hours unbothered.

* When triggered, her eyes turn black and her canines appear to grow larger. Usually her appearance is fairly normal apart from how pale she is.

* She’s cold to the touch and knows it can be a little off putting, so often wears layers to make people so do some into physical contact more comfortable.

* Alex has both super speed and super strength, to the point of being able to appear and disappear as necessary. Both of these increase as she gets older as long as she is drinking human blood, and both of these falter first when she refuses to feed.

* She can’t fly, although she can jump impressively long distances. She’s not sure if flight is a thing even older vampires have or just a rumour made up to scare children.

* Alex skin will burn on contact with garlic, and she experiences a migraine around religious symbols of she is not in the throes of blood lust. There was a whole phase where she went around eating priests despite the pain, it was a thing.

* Alex, at full power, can turn into a bat. This is usually used for comedy effect but she hasn’t done so since about 1890.

* She can enter homes without an invite, however she can’t harm the people inside unless she has been invited in. That’s where that trick has come from. Often witches will have additional wards that bar the soulless from entering, and Alex has had Mori work on some special spells around her own home to keep her family safe.

* She doesn’t show up in pictures of mirrors. She’s not sure of this is just her or not- it’s been this way since the invention of photography so she’s never known much different. She CAN see her own reflection in water, that’s about it.

* Silver is DEADLY to her. It will burn her skin in contact and piercing wounds will kill if the source isn’t removed. There are faint scars on her wrist from being forced to wear silver shackles for years that have never truly healed despite her condition.

* Other wounds caused by silver will take two or three times as long to heal. As she ages, the effect of silver only gets worse.

* Alexs methods of death are silver, wooden stake, burning and decapitation. Explosion is also a threat as if there is no body for her to come back to them she can’t. Pretty much anything else is fair game.

* Alex has aged ever so slightly, not that she would notice. Since 800AD, she has aged from 22-28ish.

* RELEVANT TO THIS VERSE- Alex has both a fascination and a fear of fire in this verse, it’s… weird.

* She has kept the injuries she had BEFORE she died, same with tattoos. She has a tattoo across her chest, and one on the side of her head but since the Viking age she has grown her hair back so that is always covered. She has a nasty burn on her right shoulder that is old and worn (it’s where her surgery scar would be in main)

* Alex has a few fun extra powers that have come about with age, such as: compulsion, mind reading, dream sharing. These are exhausting for her to use without drinking fresh blood and so these are used rarely. She can’t use these powers on other soulless creatures or protected magic users like witches.

* She has TERRIBLE bloodlust. Given this, alex doesn’t have much of a sire line. She has turned three people successfully in her life time, and all three are terribly linked to her. The problem is that her blood lust is carried down, so usually these poor vampires have died from attracting too much attention. One of her sire line is still alive and she is very much sire bonded with him, but that’s m e s s y. Again, Alex has no plans to turn anyone else ever.

[haruraine]

Scars of madness

Too many times. Too many times I have let them bite me. Even now I could feel the infected blood making its way through my body. Eating at everything that it touches. The pain is maddening.

My eye twitches as a drop of blood burns its way out of my eye and down my cheek. That drop falls from my chin and down onto the face of the woman at my feet. Her dead soulless eyes staring out at nothing. The pale bite scars on her broken neck practically glow.

It’s for the best. I saved her from the suffering that I am going through. She will never know the feeling of melting from the inside out, or the madness that comes with it. I must get to the others before the symptoms begin in them too.

I step over the body, the feeling of having just taken a life fading. I must get to them before they do. Then I will let them come to me. 

The self-absorbed scientists that dare try to keep us alive. I will lure them to me, and then I will tear them apart. They will never send another innocent human to the infected vampires.

[seudxnimx]

Orion scoffs at the correction, anyone with one foot in the grave is more dead than alive in his eyes so he’d keep his opinion in tact. A smirk as he seemed to have annoyed the man, “Trying to cover the reek of death?” A rhetorical question and more just trying to get a rise out of the man who seemed more impressed anc curious by Orion than anything else and if someone or some thing was going to step foot towards him he would use it against them. He may hate what he is, how he is and what he needs to survive but at the end of the day he is a demon and the first of his kind.

He leans against the wall near the other and listens, watches. A vampire who likes to party isn’t a first for Orion to come across, he’s met a small handful and he can understand that much because living forever is one of the most boring curses to ever be given. He hates every added day to his life and he knows it will never end so the drugs and drinking and anything else to make one feel something is understandable.

Orion grins with the last bit though, “You’ve had my attention..” Motioning to himself still being here and shrugging, “I do bleed… But my blood just might drive you fucking mad.” An emphasis made by poking his own temple and closing the distance between them, “You want me to clean your messes… You’re soulless, what can you offer me?” He’s just a few inches from his face, Orions good eye takes him in, every detail of his pale complexion and Orion goes as far as to bring his hands up as if he’s going to cup his face but simply ghosts his hands there, “I know you have your answer on if i am enough, you want me… You could even say you might need me if you’re as reckless and stupid as you say… You cannot destroy the world alone…” A soft smirk as his head tilts, “I feed off souls and sex…” Taking a step back and stretching his back some, “I’m not against destroying what you leave behind but there must me more in it for me…” giving the other the opportunity to offer something before Orion makes a demand.

❛ you honestly thought anybody would love you? purely and truly love you? ❜ @the-raven-dhampir

Orion can’t help but laugh, a dry and gargled laugh, “Do I look fucking lovable?” The mock laugh stops and his jaw flexes, he’s just been dragged through and beaten - nothing new by any means for Orion but it’s never enjoyable, “I don’t think pure and emotions are even on the same playing field… but do you think you’re so lovable?”

Gritting his teeth as he gets to his feet, those who dragged him are now lifeless bodies behind him, souls drained but Orion liked putting up a fight, he liked the fight in general… as a demon, as the first of his kind… he has known love, sure, he’s experienced obsession and possession and not wanting to be or lose someone but obviously that never lasts and never would for an incubus of his nature. “Why are you fucking here..” snatching his jacket off the ground and slipping it on before a flick of his fingers start to decompose and burn anything left of the three bodies left behind.

[vickyvicarious]

Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where.

[...]

The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her on. One said:—

"Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to begin." 

[...]

"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:—

"You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of fiends.

+

Then the beautiful eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and the voluptuous mouth present to a kiss—and man is weak. And there remain one more victim in the Vampire fold; one more to swell the grim and grisly ranks of the Un-Dead!...

There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the mere presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb fretted with age and heavy with the dust of centuries, though there be that horrid odour such as the lairs of the Count have had. Yes, I was moved—I, Van Helsing, with all my purpose and with my motive for hate—I was moved to a yearning for delay which seemed to paralyse my faculties and to clog my very soul.

I'm really intrigued by the hints that the fair vampire lady is somehow the leader amongst the three. She seems to have the strongest power of hypnotism, enough to affect Vam Helsing even when she is laying still in her coffin. She is the first to drink, has the apparent right to do so. She's visually distinct from both Dracula and the other women, meaning that perhaps she's not related to them (or maybe she wasn't his blood relation but perhaps his wife?). Jonathan feels like he knows her somehow. She's the first to claim Dracula can't love, to talk back to and even laugh at his anger.

I just... am so curious about the story of all three of these women, but especially her.

[yallemagne]

the reincarnation plot from every bad dracula movie but make it queer

Preface:

Every time I go out for a walk I think about the goddamn reincarnation plot that movies use and I ask to myself “but what if it was Jonathan--” and then twenty years get taken off of my life as retribution. Basically most story ideas I have are “what if the bad thing happened to Jonathan”, and I refuse to reflect on what that entails. 

How most reincarnation plots go is that Dracula rifles through Jonathan’s bag and finds a picture of Mina and suddenly goes batshit as if he’s not seen a women in a thousand years (he totally has, he has three roommates). This happened in Nosferatu (don’t recall if it was bc she looked like his dead wife or he’s just an incel) and way too many other adaptations while having never actually happened in the book. 

But I can make the reincarnation plot gay AND stick more faithfully to the book. 

Okay lessgo--

When Jonathan finds the study:

Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. 

and

I determined not to return tonight to the gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. 

Besides just screaming femme Jonathan, that’s perfect reincarnation fodder. You can play this as if he’s recalling his own memories of being Dracula’s forlorn wife worrying about him as he goes off to war. 

And then he meets the Weird Sisters, and he recognizes one of them:

The other was fair, as fair as can be, with great wavy masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the moment how or where. 

Most people interpret the blonde vampire as being Dracula’s original wife and the two dark-haired vampires his daughters. Totally see that. Now, why does Jonathan recognize her? Blah, blah, she’s him, he’s her. 

The thing about most reincarnation plots though is that they always have the Sisters but they have no bearing on the plot. Hey Mina, your “hubby” has three women he keeps as pets, why don’t you ask WHO THEY ARE AND WHY HE DOES THAT TO THEM. But those would be rational questions. 

So anyway, how do dead vampire wife and living Jonathan wife exist at the same time? I mean, it could be that Dracula’s original wife wasn’t turned when she was alive. Perhaps the same deal with Satan he did to become immortal reanimated his wife’s corpse. But of course, her soul was gone. 

Whoopsies Dracula, you fucked up. 

"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:—

"You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:—

"Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?"

I’m just gonna say, the blonde vampire’s response to Dracula staking his claim in Jonathan being “you’ve never loved”... foreshadowing. Even the corpse bride over here is like “bitch, I know you’re not gonna treat my soul right this time”. And I’m not the only one who has said Dracula looking at Jonathan and saying softly “Yes, I too can love” is pretty homosexual. 

Now you may think I’m veering towards Dracula/Jonathan, but Dracula is still an abuser, so no. 

With that said-- MINA!

She fetches Jonathan from the convent and they travel back to England, and Jonathan can’t help feeling severely out of place now. He spent so much time as a damsel in that castle, having past memories come to him in the form of nightmares, and then he spent his recovery surrounded by women who were sympathetic towards him and promise to keep the weird memory dreams secret. 

But now he’s in England, and he can hardly walk down the street without being a little genderqueer about it. 

And what is he supposed to think about his relationship with his gender when he’s not even sure these are his own feelings? Is he experiencing actual gender dysphoria towards being a man or are these just the thoughts of a long-dead woman? Doesn’t help if this is still set in Victorian England where if he were to confide these feelings in anyone, he could be institutionalized. 

Not to mention his relationship with Mina. Is he being deceptive towards her? He doesn’t know. He feels guilty for these newfound feelings. Does having a woman’s soul invalidate their relationship somehow? Does his previous relationship with Dracula invalidate it? Should he let her go so she can seek out a more worthy partner? The answer to all the questions are no of course, but this is a drama. 

I could go on and try to plot out an actual story on the spot, but the original intent of this was just to make a point that the reincarnation plot has more backing it if Jonathan is the reincarnated bride of Dracula instead. Which plenty of people have already said, but I'm giving my own talking points because I’ve been dying to okay.

[inhcritance]

Harry knew that, given where Maurice was, he could have been there much faster. There even was the temptation to have security haul him to the office, but of course Harry squashed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind: not only because he'd never do that without a good reason, but because it would be an abuse of power. And for all that Harry tended to resort to posturing and authority when threatened, there were lines. Especially with someone he'd almost considered a friend.

It made the perceived betrayal sting even more.

As Maurice entered, moreover, Harry took a moment before his gaze left the remarkably unimportant documents before him, and then settled on the other, on his clothes and his sword, and Harry was glad that he not only knew how to fight off an opponent with a sword, but was also carrying his knife. Just in case. And then, he listened.

There was going to be a lot of corporate cleaning to do after the conversation was done, he suspected, and it was unfortunate: Harry hated cleanup and cover-ups both, and he knew he could not afford some things to be known. How to stop them, well, that was the question.

He did consider the fangs, however, and some pieces started falling in place. Other began to make even less sense. Especially given the reassurance.

Pale green eyes settled on Maurice's face, as Harry considered him, head barely titled, hands over the table, the very picture of a soulless corporation turned young heir, armed with distrust and regret.

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" He asked at last, voice far too even to be anything but cold, disbelieving.

Careful to admit nothing.

"I admit it's my first time in such a situation, and I find it hard to believe that someone would accuse another of supervillainy and then offer his help, not without some serious ulterior motives." He spoke. "Vampire or not." If he was even a vampire, but he hoped to get a full confirmation from his reaction. "So what would be in it for you, Maurice? What are you looking for?"

he knew that the call was coming.

he knew that harry would request to see him. so, he hadn't even started work, instead sitting at his desk and folding a paper swan over and over again until the friendly woman came to get him. It was late. very late and he's the only one on the way to the office, walking at a SLOW human pace.

he's tempted to make harry wait longer but he needs to know exactly what it was the inflicted the other and his glamour had been surface level. he hadn't wanted to dig TOO deep into harrys mind, didn't want to risk doing damage.

he slams open the doors, green eyes observing the other behind his desk. pale digits slowly close the door behind himself. he's unassuming in his clothes. dark leather trenchcoat is certainly NOT dress code. neither is the sword on his waist.

but HR, after some SPECIAL convincing,declared it was alright. an exhale escapes from his lips as he moves towards the desk, taking a seat, resting his hands evenly in his lap.

"so why green? and did you pick your name? because, mate, let me tell you....green goblin is such a lame ass name." he leans a bit forward. "but who am I to say anything. i'm a mythological creature" there's a pause.

"if you're worried i'm blackmailing you, I assure you that is not the case." he allows his fangs to slip downward. "you have your secrets. I have mine. so, harry osborn, are you going to let me help you?"

[babiesdreams]

Vampire Jaemin- Requested by honey <3

That smell +18 Na jaemin 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, suicidal thoughts and angsty stuff in general. [If you suffer/ are going through any of the described scenarios, pls get help. If you need to talk to someone, you can trust this blog as your safe place] Unprotected sex, overstimulation, sexy jaemin.

This decision is not something that simply came out to you like a sudden thought. You’ve been wanting this for your whole life. The simple thought of disappearing, stop the noisy daily life you were forced on living... it was the only thing that made you happy.

Thinking about the silent and peaceful life you were about to get into, it was the only thing that could calm you down. Your fingers grabbed the knife placed on table next to the bathtub. Your hand hesitated for a second, but then it held the knife tighter putting the pointy tip over your wrist, applying enough pressure to cut the flesh slowly, leaving a messy blood lake behind it. 

It hurted more than what you expected, making you scream loudly as the blood kept coming out, uncontrollably. Your hand felt weak, letting the knife drown on the full bathtub. Tears started falling down your cheeks as the blood slowly painted the clear water.

The smell of the blood was so pure, you had never smelled anything like that. A sudden noise kept you awake, even if your head felt dizzy. A pale looking boy entered the room, looking likke he’s been hiding all along. You look at him confused, not enterily sure if he was real or part of your imagination. Could a human being be so perfect?.

“What did you do?” He asks anxiously. His nose kept on making sounds as he smelled the weird bloody scent. “Who are y-?” You couldn’t really manage to finish the sentence as you lost conciousness inmediately. The boy riped his shirt, putting it over his nose, avoiding the scent. His arms grabbed your, now heavy body, looking at the cut you made on your wrist. His eyes rolled into his head at the view of that much blood. 

“Calm down Jaemin” He whispered to himself. His teeth bit your skin, letting more blood to come out of your neck. He sucked all the blood in, drinking every little drop as you weirdly became more and more conscious. “Get off” You whispered trying your best to push him away, though your weak arms could only leave slight caresses on his skin. 

He let you go after a couple of minutes, getting his shirt off his nose and putting it around your cut, trying to stop the bleeding. “Get off” You repeated with a completely exhausted voice. “Shut up” He shouted at ou while he covered your whole arm with the shirt.

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

You wake up on your bed, covered by an unfamiliar sweatshirt, feeling completely exhausted, like you never felt before. You turned your head and you saw him sitting down in a chair. 

“You fucker” You say angrily, getting up and walking towards him. He looks at you, judging your every word. “I saved your life” He says calmly. “You should thank me” 

“You ruined my chance to live in peace” You shouted at him, as tears fell uncontrollably down your cheeks. “You don’t get to live after that, so what’s the point anyway. You should try to change your life. Doing that doesn’t help, god” He says angrily. 

You start crying louder and messier, lying down on your bed, as you felt helpless. His words were right but damn, you hated living this way, you hated...

“Hey, hey I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so... Hey listen, I just wanted to give you another chance, to enjoy life. I couldn’t... I couldn’t just let you die like that” He says slowly, calming you down as his fingertips brush your back carefully.

“What’s your name?” You say in between cries. Your voice sounds distant as the sweatshirt, as the fabric block the sound of your crying voice. “Na Jaemin” He replies quickly. “That’s a cute name” You say still crying. The boy chuckles and caress your back lovingly. “You dummy” He says smiling.

You take your head out of the sweatshirt sleeve and look at him angrily, crying louder at his words. “No, no , okay you’re not dumb” He says panicking. You laugh at his cute reaction and hug him softly. “Why do I feel like I know you?” You whisper in his ear.

The boy looks at the wall, not giving an answer at all. Silence fills the room for a whole minute. “I... don’t know” He simply whispers. You close your eyes, letting your head rest over his shoulder as your whole body relaxes. Jaemin opens his mouth, wanting to explain you how he turned you into a vampire, and what it meant. Wanting to tell you everything you should know. But your lips are quicker.

“Jaemin” You say cutely. The boy shuts his mouth and simply hums at you. “I’m horny” You say even with a cuter tone. He chockes on his own saliva, making you laugh uncontrollably. “You what?” He shouts incredulously. You laugh out loud at his panicked self, pulling off the hug. 

“It is true tho, I’m horny” You say, keeping the cute tone on your voice. The boy’s cheeks turn red slowly, letting you giggle a little more at his shyness. “React, Na Jaemin” You say, squeezing his cheeks cutely. He grabs your wrist strongly. “Don’t do that” He grunts under his breath.

You furrow your brows, worried at his sudden serious nature. You look at your wrist, covered by a bandage. Your eyes quickly get teary, remembering that moment. “Blood’s smell... It makes me go crazy, so keep it away” You nod at his words, not really understanding them.

His mouth tho, starts getting moist due to the saliva drooling out of his red lips. He starts getting closer to you, closing his eyes when he’s almost touching your lips with his. Your eyes close as well, letting his tongue get into your mouth. 

His fingertips run through your body, making different paths along the curves, getting underneath the sweatshirt that covers your body. “Jaemin” You say breaking the kiss. He backs up and looks at you directly, as if asking “what’s wrong?” with his shiny eyes. “I feel weird” You say caressing his fingers with yours. “Isn’t this weird?” You ask him, now aware of the weirdness of the situation. 

This stranger was inside your house for some reason, he saved you and now you wanted him. You wanted him so bad. This was a new kind of neediness. There was something inside of you that you couldn’t really control. Something that wanted to get the boy so badly...

“It’s my fault” He says looking down. His black hair covers his facial features as his eyes get lost on the folds of the bedsheets. “I’m a monster, Y/n” He says in a soulless voice that really gets into your heart. “I’m a vampire, I know, that’s crazy, omg, I can’t believe vampires exist... You can skip that part. Just, look, I have known you for long enough by now, and when I saw all that blood I couldn’t think straight. The smell of blood is simply too much, it invades my mind, and I can’t control myself. I turned you into a vampire...”

“What?!” You scream, not quite understanding the situation. “I’m sorry, I wanted to save you, and it was the only way... I... God I’m sorry”  Tears starting going down his cheeks. You looked at his sad expression, wanting to be mad at him, but completely failing.

“It’s fine...God” You say lifting his face with your finger, and looking straight into his teary eyes. “So now I’m a vampire too?” You ask him confused. “Yeah... Well not yet, you’re transitioning, that’s why you feel weird....” His voice gets weaker and weaker as he speaks.

“What do you mean?” You look at him even more confused. “Well, this system was created by ancient vampires, they decided that for the sake of our species, when a vampire turns a human, they become attracted to them inmediately, so that they can have... you know.... babies” His cheeks turn into a cute shade of pink.

“God...” You say sighing, releasing your hold on his chin. “Does it go away?” You ask keeping a certain distance. “No, It never goes away, it just...gets...”

“What?!” You scream at him “It gets what?” The boy backs up slightly and looks at you with puppy eyes, keeping a pouting expression. “More intense...” His voice sounds like a mere whisper. 

“Oh my god. So I’m just supposed to be needy for you 24/7?!” You shout, getting off the bed and standing next to it. “I.. I guess” He says looking down, embarassed at the situation that he got himself into. “Fuck.. Jaemin.. Why would you ughhh”

“I’m sorry okay, I wanted, I wanted to save you...” Jaemin says looking down, again. “Um... it’s fine I guess. Just let me have a minute, I’ll take a shower..” You say getting to your bathroom.

You prepare yourself to see all the blood and remember everything that happened last night, but the bathroom is absolutely clean. Even cleaner than usually. “I cleaned it” Jaemin clears out, still lying on the bed.

“And i get all that, let me get a break, buttt” He stands up, walking closer to you. “But?” You ask before his hands surround your waist. “It gets worse every minute, every second...maybe you should let yourself go first” His low voice whispers inside your ear and you completely lose it.

You can feel how your body is desperate for his touch, but your mind keeps on telling you how weird the situation is and how you should stay away from him for the moment. “Ahh.. Let me shower” You manage to say, struggleing at every word. 

Jaemin chuckles at how cute you were when you were shy. “Don’t get too horny in there” He whispers getting his hands off your waist. Your cheeks get as red as they can possibly get. 

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

The shower helped you get away from your dirty needs at least for some seconds. But when you saw Jaemin, all those feelings came back stronger, making you stop and stare at his body, lying on the bed.

He turns, feeling your presence. “Are you ready?” He says with a seductive voice letting his head fall out of the bed. His view is completely upside down, looking at your body and expression from the posture. You blink slowly, trying to hide your inner desires, but the boy is faster.

“You are ready” He shouts, jumping off the bed, excited. He gets to your position fastly, as he’s excited to start his little game. “I can’t wait to have kids with you” He says smiling. “W-what?. We are not having kids today. Nah-huh. Not in this household” You say pushing the boy away. 

“Plus, I’m on birth control, so forget about that” You say looking away from him. His hands trap your waist, keeping you closer. “Okay, but the process is fun” He whispers, using that damn voice again, gettng you on your limit. His hands travel down your body, getting to your clothed cunt as he does.

“You look so cute when you’re shy, did you know that?” His body moves, making yours follow. “Huh?” You simply say, but you understand his words when his fingers get more aggresive. You can feel his cold fingertips moving against the fabric that covered your clit.

“Damn, I would have liked to fuck you while you were wearing my sweatshirt” He whispers, as an inner thought. His hands quickly turn your body, making you face him direcly. Your eyes study his already big smirk while his arms grab your body, putting you down in bed.

His body follows yours slowly. You can see how his mouth is drooling again, as he gets closer to your pussy. His hands remove your pants and underwear, letting his eyes get fixed on your exposed body. His tongue comes out, brushing your folds slowly, tasting the flavour of your juices.

“You are already so wet...” His tongue passes again through your folds “Fucking love it” His voice lets you know just how much he’s enjoying, making it hard to control the moans from coming out your mouth. “Fu-ck Jaemin” You moan out, unable to control yourself.

The boy rolls his eyes back, getting his tongue off your folds. His fingers though, get into you without a single warning. His lips are now pressed against your neck, licking the marks he did last night, and leaving some bruises around. Then they get to your own lips, moving into a heated kiss. 

His fingers get faster into you as the kiss gets more heated, making you feel as well just how wet you actually are. “Fuck” He says under his breath. You look into his eyes, trying to guess what was wrong.

“Your arm” He says with an even deeper voice. You gasp lightly seeing how your arm wasn’t wrapped anymore, as the bandaid got off during the messy moves. The boy breathes slowly, and you can feel how his bulge grows against your thighs. 

“It’s fine” You say blushing, your hands grab Jaemin’s face, forcing him to look at you. “Jaemin, it’s fine” You repeat calmly, making the boy calm down as well. His body stays the same, nonetheless.

He slowly gets his pants and boxers off, as you try your best to keep your arm away from him. His length quickly gets into you, stretching your walls slowly. His cute low moans mix with yours as his pace starts speeding up. 

“Fuck Jaemin” You moan loudly, making the boy smile and get faster. “Cum for me baby” His low voice says while his hand caresses your cheek softly. You put your arms around his neck, keeping him closer to you and completely forgetting about the effect your blood had on the boy.

He breathes in, slowly and starts getting even faster, hitting parts of your insides that had never been touched before. “Fuck Jaemin” You manage to say as you cum.

Your whole body shakes but the boy doesn’t seem to bother. He continues thrusting into you, getting faster with every thrust, with every second. He doesn’t even bother when he cums inside of you, as he keeps his pace.

You try to keep your arm away once you notice the cause of the mess, but it’s completely impossible as his hand strongly grabs yours still. His tongue licks your forearm clean, drinking every drop of blood coming out from it. 

“Jaemin, stop, fuck” You shout, feeling a second wave of arousal coming. The way your body shakes this time, makes something click inside his head, finally realizing what he was doing. He gets out of you, letting all the different fluids come out as well and inmediately his face turns into a concerned expression.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Are you.. are you” He starts panicking, studying every inch of your body, looking for possible damages he might have done. “That was amazing, holy shit” You let out, in between giggles.

“You’re so hot like that” You finich off, before placing a kiss onto the confused boy’s lips

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

That was loong hahhahhahaa

Masterlist –requests open– How to request?  Check out your score.

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY THEY REMIND THEM OF: dark, cold, possessive. With a slight resemblance to KIM SURA of/the SOLOIST.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

last name, first name: choi, aureila alias: eir realm of birth(if earth, nationality): earth, korean age: 223 vampire years / 24 human gender: female preferred pronouns: she/her species: vampire, pureblood occupation: night blood's hitman sexual orientation: bisexual any associated/owned businesses: --

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: lightly pale skin with small freckles across her nose eye color: heterochromia iridum: left eyes is red while the other is blue scars: none piercings: nipple piercing tattoos: gang's mark tattoo is located on the behind her left ear, sleeved left arm (i know its not the actual arm but just imagine) hair color: black (like to dye it often) abnormalities: none horns/ wings/ etc:  none transformed form: their eyes begin to glow a golden yellow no matter the color, black, grotesque claws protrude from their fingertips and their fangs go from slightly elongated to a two full rows of spiked teeth.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF:   n/a

SINS:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  /  lust  /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath

VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility /  kindness /  patience /  justice / temperance

KNOWN LANGUAGES: korean, english, chinese, and latin

SECRETS:   n/a

SAVVIES:   photography is a major hobby of arus when she's not on a mission

Powers & Abilities:   Blood Consumptions, Blood Empowerment, Blood Flow Vision, Contaminant Immunity, Conversion, Immortality, Supernatural Condition, Hypnosis, Claw/Fang Retraction, Soullessness, Undead Pulse, and Venomous Fangs.

Traits:   (positive) patient, (negative) possessive

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth:  September  1st

Date of Death:

Crime Record:  

Background/Biography:

Aureila's parents began her assassination training when she was young; they continuously expressed their desires for their youngest daughter to follow in their footsteps. Confused and slightly terrified, Aureila had no choice but to obey her parent's orders. The two older siblings watched on the sidelines as their sister got her ass handed to her. Over and over again. Constantly, Aureila went to her room while bloody and bruised. Only to have history repeat itself the very next day.

It took Aureila a few years to grasp everything her parents trained her on, long, long ago. But, it doesn't mean their relationship during those years was positive. Aureila had grown to hate them and yet continued to endure despite the toxic environment.

When it came time for her to choose what side she was on, Aureila's answer was shocking. Aureila voiced she did not want to follow in their footsteps as his sisters have done before him. Boy, her parents were pissed. They banned the female from stepping foot onto her grounds. Laughing with joy, Aureila gladly left her old life behind and began anew.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

"Let me get this straight. You want me, an innocent bystander, to explain to you about that night?" Aureila repeats, eyebrow raised in fake annoyance, and leans back against the metal chair. Legs crossed, she rests her chin against the back of her palm and grins at the police officer. "I'm afraid I'm not going to be any help to you, my good sir. I was merely there at the right place but the wrong time." She snorts, highly amused by the turn of events. "I'll give you a piece of advice because I'm in a good mood. Do not waste your time looking into what happened that night. If you value your life, of course."

[z0urcherri]

Let's do it. How long have you been appreciated Forte ?

(*warning for infodumping) Well, i only saw Enchanted Christmas last month, so years before that i didn't even know he existed. Saw Beauty And The Beast 1 as a kid, but only once and on a rented VHS so i hardly touched the franchise after that. You'd think maybe i would have discovered him via PyroCynical or something, or the meme "bolted to the wall", but i actually never saw any of that until after the movie. But i can truthfully say once i discovered him, the intrigue led me to replaying scenes with him, not just to admire his handsomeness and all but also because i felt like there was much deeper lore than what had been initially presented. And...let's just say my imagination quickly stirred. *Lots of this might be just my own interpretations. The vampire hc, i feel, should just be canon at this point, because i feel like Disney snuck in intentional references to him being one. There's what we see on his human form; fangs, pale skin. And then there's even features of his organ form that hint at it like his eyes. They have an oddly black, blank, soulless look, almost lifeless if not for his expressions. Part of me also feels like this is why you're not seeing anything in his chambers like mirrors, silverware, things associated with driving vampires away or killing them, basically. Additionally, it would make sense in this case for him to be highly neurotic and frantic at times; vampires in the 1800's were...well...not highly respected, i'll just say that. It's actually impressive that he's found a comfortable place to live within the castle, moreso that the prince allowed him to do so. It could be that he knew the Maestro before he died, and recognized him when he rose again and prevented people from panicking and killing him on sight. That might tie into his obsession with the prince, in my book. One of the few people who saw him as still a person and not a monster. So getting betrayed by him, even slightly sets him off pretty badly. (I, for one, understand; he worked hard to gain the prince's respect and admiration, got it finally, only for him to continue to disrespect his passion for music.) If we listen to "Don't Fall In Love", we hear alot of what sounds like his own personal experience with maybe a potential wife. As if THAT had been the cause of his demise originally. "The quickest way to break your heart Make you depressed and ill Is to get tangled up inside The side effects could kill" He's not being subtle about it either. What also gets me is "Your freedom is the most important thing, my friend" because, as we know, Forte has little freedom IF ANY. "It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone" We're also treated to what could be his feelings on Fife, to some degree Belle, who tend to be "always there". To him, Belle is as untrustworthy as the Enchantress (what happened the last time a strange woman entered the castle??? Huh???) and Fife, despite feeling for Forte what Forte does for the prince, seems like another obstacle between him and the prince. I get it. Fife's a sweetheart, sure, but Forte has already put his heart and mind on someone else. "And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?" Funnily enough, i can think of a dog, child, and cat in the castle. That HAS to be another not-so-subtle hint. "You'll go to pot You'll turn to drink You'll never rest You'll end up mad" Oh dear... TL;DR yeah i have feelings for this guy.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty: The Puppeteer

Rated: PG-13 (Themes of insanity, graphic imagery, and violent thoughts. This is sort of an age gap relationship but keep in mind that the physical ages of both parties differs from their cognitive age. Martina is cognitively 20 and Jack is cognitively 18.)

(Author's note: Remember that Martina manipulates emotions...)

Masterlist

~I counted the stars tonight Oh, how they shine so bright I gather them all, so we perfectly align

While we gaze from far away And separately watch the day Come rising across the horizon in our minds

But now I know my heart is strong Where you belong is by my side So will you hold? 'Cause time is cold But in your soul, I'm standing by~

"It's okay, Jack. It's a crooked kind of perfect. I think I like it better now."

Then she turned and left the shed and Jack buried his head in his hands. Guilt was a crushing thing and now it was crushing him.

Why hadn't he gotten there sooner? If he had, then she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Max had led them to four wrong sheds before they finally found this one. But that wasn't on her. Max had just been trying to help. It was his fault. Jack had been the one to rush off and leave her all alone. He had promised that he would never leave her but he'd broken his promise! Would Marty hate him now?

Jack thought about the way she had looked when the fight was over.

Marty had looked like she had the day they had found her. She looked absent, detached, vacant, alive but not awake. Like the lights were on but no one was home. It wasn't the same as when she had purposefully demonstrated that emotionless act like she had earlier; like there wasn't even a person inside. This was a different kind of emptiness. It was more like Marty was hiding because she didn't want to face what had happened, and then she was lost because she couldn't find herself again. He had seen that emptiness before, on a hunt.

Sam had called it shock.

Marty hadn't even flinched when she picked up that vampire's head. There hadn't been much emotion in her when she had talked about the former owner of that head. Nor when she had talked to the head like it was some sick sort of ventriloquist dummy. But Jack had seen her eyes, and in them, he'd seen hate among the emptiness.

Just thinking of what Marty had said about the vampire she'd called Boyd made Jack's blood boil beneath his skin. The thought of that thing - that monster - touching her, made him angry. That thought made him so angry he didn't even have the words to express it.

The anger - the rage - the sheer undiluted hate that Jack felt coursing through his veins couldn't be described. He had never felt hate so strongly before, not even for the monsters or the angels in the apocalypse world. This kind of hate was new. It made him want to do something horrible. This hate burned him. This hate made Jack want to hurt the monster that had hurt Marty. Not just hurt it - no, no - that wouldn't be enough for him. This hate pushed him to do more than just hurt or kill. This hate was more than a want or an urge - this hate inside him was a craving. The kind of pain that Jack craved to inflict upon that monster was downright unfathomable, unthinkable, vile to the absolute purest definition of the word. Jack craved to make that monster pay.

He sat on the floor of the shed with his fists clenched as tight as his jaw, staring steadfastly at the corpse of the vampire that had hurt his friend and contemplating the reattaching of that vampire's head and subsequent resurrection of the thing just so he could watch as he slowly burnt it alive and twisted its horrid limbs into knots. How dare that thing lay one rotten finger on her. Jack desperately wished he could kill it again.

Because Marty was his.  She was his sister and even if she couldn't be anything more, he felt the need to protect her like she was. Jack decided that no one else should ever get to touch her.  Ever. From now on, that was how it was going to be. That was the new rule. Nobody gets to touch Marty except for him.

Jack wanted to go find her now. The thought of that vampire touching her made Jack want to touch her and make that thing's touch go away. Jack needed to go find her and make sure she was okay. But his family was talking about her so he decided to stay a little longer to listen.

"This is wrong," Dean muttered as he looked over the mess of scattered corpses Marty had left behind, "No way one kid does all this. No way."

"Did you see Martina's eyes?" Cas asked, shaking his head at the thought. "When she picked that vampire's head up and talked to it like it was a puppet, did you see her eyes?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." If Jack didn't know better, he would have thought Dean sounded scared.

"They looked like a demon's," Cas added. This time, Dean shook his head.

"No, not like a demon's - not evil like a demon's, not necessarily. No, just... empty. Just empty, like Sam's when he lost his soul..." Dean trailed off, shaking his head while Sam just sort of stood there, looking uncomfortable.

"A soulless empath?" Cas questioned, "Is that even possible?"

Dean shrugged.

"I dunno, man! I dunno," He said with a huff, "All I do know is that there somethin' very dark inside that kid." He shuddered.

"D-dark? What-what do you mean?" Sam cut in.

"For her to do this -" Dean gestured to the carnage "- all by herself... Sammy, I don't know if she's souless or not, but there sure as Hell is something broken in there.  This  ain't self defense. This was rage. I don't know what's goin' on with that girl, but Marty ain't right in the head."

"But we can't let her go now." Sam's voice might have been quiet but its tone was made of iron.

"I dunno, Sammy..."

"We made her a promise, Dean! We can't break it!" Sam argued, "So what if she's a little broken? We all are! But there is good in her just like there's good in all of us."

"Look around you, Sam!" Dean gestured to the corpses. "I'm not talking about depression or a hero complex here. We're talkin' bonafied nuts! Full-on Loony-Tunes!"

"Based off of Martina's behavioral patterns, we could very well be dealing with a sociopath," Cas spoke up calmly.

"Even if that's the case, she's still just a kid! " Sam said, pleading. "A-and, you know what? So what? We've dealt with worse threats than a sociopatic-empath-kid! And since we found her, Marty's been getting better. Every day she get's better - I've seen it! Jack makes her better. He brings her out of things like this. Maybe he can fix her. I think he should talk to her, you know, s-see if she's okay."

"No." Cas shook his head, firmly.

"W-why not?"

"Because I said no," Cas repeated.

"Cas, you've seen how she responds to him. If one of us goes out there, we might just make it worse," Sam reasoned.

Jack stood and left the shed then. Marty needed him and he wasn't going to waste any more time listening to them argue.

"Jack wait!" Cas called out.

"No."

"I said wait!" The angel's tone was a command, not a request.

Jack did not stop. "And I said no!"

Cas reached out and snagged Jack's arm, yanking him back. "We don't know what Martina is truly capable of! This may be just the beginning."

"I don't care! Marty's my friend," Jack ripped his arm free from Cas's grip. "And if I can help her, the rest doesn't matter."

Jack left his family standing in the shed with the vampire corpses, bewildered that Jack had just disobeyed.

"Did he just hit his terrible two's or is this the rebellious teenage years?" Dean asked the others after Jack had left.

Jack found Marty rather easily. She was sitting in the snow curled up with her chin on her knees and her back pressed against the shed's metal siding. She stared at the rose that she twirled between her fingers.

"Hello," Jack said, raising his hand. Marty didn't reply, she just stared at her rose. "Are you alright?" He tried again.

Marty sighed, yet still, she didn't move. She just considered the bloody rose like it meant something greater than it did like it held the answers.

"Do you think I'm crazy, Jack?" She asked him, her voice soft and childish. Jack hesitated.

"Well, do you?" He returned, carefully. Marty's lost yet tranquil expression crumpled into a frown.

"I don't know," She whispered, laying the rose lightly on the snow, "I didn't used to think so but..." She trailed off, gazing into the middle distance with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"But what?" Jack sat down beside her and noticed the frosty trail of a tear on her pale skin. He brushed it away.

The simple action was enough to send a shiver down the angel boy's spine. Although the rosy hue tinting the tip of Marty's nose and cheeks was a testament to the frosty temperature; the shiver that ran down Jack's spine, leaving residual sparks lingering in his fingertips, had nothing to do with the cold. Jack studied Marty's winter-nipped rosy complexion. She looked very pretty and something about it made Jack's chest warm.

"But I don't know anymore." Marty seemed to come out of her trance, eying him warily. "Is that bad?"

Jack shook his head. "I wouldn't know."

"They think I'm crazy." Her voice broke and so did Jack's heart. "Cas and Dean - I heard them say I'm broken."

"No! You're not broken, you're amazing!" Jack grabbed her hands but she shook her head, averting her gaze.

"I killed them," She mumbled.

"You had to; they were monsters."

"So, I'm not broken?" Marty asked. Jack shook his head, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I don't think so. At least, no more than anybody else is," He replied, "No more than I am."

She nodded and was silent. Acting completely on impulse, Jack reached out, wrapping his arms around her torso, he pulled her into his lap. Marty didn't complain.

"Jack?" She spoke up a while later.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong with me?"

Jack sighed. Was this what talking to him was like?

"Nothing is wrong with you, Marty. You're perfect." He stated it like it was a fact and to him, it was.

"So, why don't I feel guilty?" She shook her head. "I killed them and that should earn me some measure of guilt, right? But instead of feeling bad, I don't feel anything. I should feel scared or shocked or angry but I don't. I don't feel anything."

Jack frowned. "Sam says that numbness can be part of shock."

She shook her head again, her eyebrows pulling together.

"No, this isn't numbness. It's not that I feel empty, I just feel indifferent." Marty's breath caught and panic rose into her voice. "It's like I'm back in Copper Harbor again. I couldn't feel anything there either! I want to feel something but I can't and there's just nothing! I wanna feel something but I can't feel anything!"

"Whoa, whoa! Hey! You're okay!" Jack tried to calm her but his efforts were futile. She shot up from his lap, stumbling forward in a discombobulated state of panic. Marty gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she raked her hands through her jet-black hair and tugged at the roots as if trying to tear it out.

"I didn't feel anything till I met you guys and I don't wanna go back to nothing! Why did I never feel anything? There has to be something wrong with me!" Marty twisted to face him. Her grey eyes were dark and turbulent clouds just before a great tempest. Not angry, but powerful and natural, beautiful in a way that commanded respect. Yet she was still vulnerable, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Jack, what's wrong with me?! "

She gazed at him with wild desperation in her eyes and Jack felt his heart sinking in his chest. He had no words for her and he felt useless. Jack couldn't give her the answer. So, he just shook his head and pulled her close again, guiding her face into the crook of his neck and holding the sweet girl in his arms like she was made of glass. Feeling Marty's body flush against his ignited those sparks inside of him but he tried his best to ignore them.

"You're okay, just focus on me!" He said, rubbing circles on her back like Castiel sometimes did for him. Marty's breathing seemed to even out a little.

"Jack, I'm scared," She whimpered against his neck. He could feel her lips brushing against his skin and he felt this tugging sensation in his stomach. It felt good, Jack realized. The sparks exploded inside of him. He wanted more. But he pushed it down. Marty needed him and he had to focus. It took quite a bit of effort to ignore it.

"Why are you scared?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"I think I'm going insane."

Jack wasn't sure about that, but Marty's lips moving against his neck was definitely driving him insane. It felt so good, so unbelievably  right! Ugh! Why couldn't he just focus on the moment at hand? He caught a strand of her hair and started twirling it around his finger in an attempt to both calm her and distract himself from this blissful feeling. It didn't work. Marty made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob, her warm breath fanning against his neck. Jack's hands acted on their own accord, gripping her waist tighter. He simply couldn't stop himself and he found that, honestly, he didn't want to. Jack liked touching Marty this way. This new feeling that was sprouting inside him felt amazing. But it was hard. Keeping his breathing under control nearly caused him physical pain.

"W-why would y- um- you think that? O-other than Dean and- a-and Cas?" It was too difficult for him to focus. He  had  to put some distance between their bodies, but that was hard when distance was absolutely the last thing he wanted. With all the willpower he had, Jack tried to gently push Marty away, just enough to look at her. But Marty didn't want to move, she clung to his shirt like it was a lifeline and Jack simply didn't have the strength to try to push her away again.

"I'm forgetting things, Jack," She choked out.

Jack's heart kept on breaking for her but these sparks inside him were making him ecstatic. He couldn't help it. He felt  so  bad and  so  good at the same time. It was  so  frustrating! Would it really be so wrong to indulge this feeling? Maybe if he gave the sparks what they wanted, then they would calm down?

Jack tangled his fingers in the hair at the base for her neck, tugging a little because it felt right and he wanted to. He turned his face towards her hair and took a deep breath. He had taken the blood away when he'd healed her and her hair smelled perfect. It made him smile.

"What are you forgetting?" He asked softly, speaking into her ear.

"I remember being kidnapped but then - nothing. There's nothing after that! It was like I woke up out here and then I heard them say that I'm broken and I think I really am!" She was panicking again, her breaths quickening against his neck. It was maddening. His grip on her waist tightened again.

"No, no! Shh! It's okay, you're okay!" He tried to calm her. Jack did have to admit that what she'd said didn't sound good. Memory gaps are never a good thing, at least in his experience.

"No, I'm not! I'm not okay! Jack, I can't remember what I did!" Marty clutched onto him even tighter, anguish filling her voice. "I know I killed them, I just can't remember doing it! That's why I can't feel anything! And this isn't the first time this has happened!"

Marty pulled away from him then, and Jack's breath caught in his throat.

'When did you get so beautiful?' He thought. Even with tears streaming down her face, Jack couldn't remember seeing a more beautiful girl. She was perfect. How had he not noticed this before?

Jack let his eyes roam over her face, drinking it all in.

She was so wonderful and she didn't even know it. How little she saw of her own beauty. All Marty could see were her flaws but Jack thought they made her even more beautiful. If only she could see it.

Marty opened her mouth to speak but Jack pressed a finger to her lips. He tried his best not to think about how soft they felt under his finger and focus instead on what Marty needed from him.

"Don't talk," He said, "It's okay to be scared, Marty. But you are an amazing person, and you're so pretty and I wish you could see that. So, if you're broken, then you're the most beautiful broken thing I've ever seen. Whatever is happening to you, we're gonna find a way to fix it. I promise."

Marty shook her head, closing her eyes like she couldn't even look at him. "I think I'm losing my mind."

The response tumbled from Jack's lips before he'd even thought about it.

"Then I'll help you find it again."

Marty looked up at him then, furrowing her brow like she couldn't believe anyone would say that to her, let alone mean it. She was like a porcelain doll, her perfection was a delicate illusion. Jack could see the fractured glass of Marty's soul through her eyes. Broken pieces like shattered glass just waiting for someone to mend them; Jack felt like that sometimes.

"What if you can't? What if you can't fix me? Jack, I don't think this is something you can fix," She sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself like she was holding herself together. Jack smiled gently at her.

"Well, I suppose if you cannot look on the bright side, then I will sit beside you in the dark," He said, quoting what she had said to him the night before. Their talk by the lake house seemed so long ago now.

"Ironic," She huffed, laughing just the slightest bit.

"What is?"

"That quote," She answered, shrugging, "The Mad-Hatter says it. He's crazy."

"Oh." Jack knew who the Mad-Hatter was; he had seen Alice in Wonderland, the Disney cartoon at least. He guessed that probably wasn't the best thing for him to have said.

"I like him though. He's my favorite book character." She frowned again. "Guess I know why now; I'm just like him."

"No, you're not." Jack shook his head. "You don't wear a top-hat!"

Marty rolled her eyes and shook her head, cracking a wry smile. "Yeah, okay."

Jack felt the sparks shooting through him as he pulled her close again. Unfurling his massive, powerful, metaphysical wings, he wrapped them around Marty's tiny, fragile body, encasing her in their warmth and softness. It felt right. This was where she was supposed to be. He wanted to keep her there forever.

Jack wanted to keep her forever.

"Even if you do go crazy, I'm not going to leave you," He breathed, petting her hair, "I'm gonna be here every step of the way."

'I'm never gonna leave you again.' He silently vowed.

The sun sank lower until it dipped below the white Kansas horizon as Sam, Dean, and Castiel worked to remove the vampire corpses from the property of whoever owned the shed. Jack made sure to block the bodies from Marty's view, instead directing her gaze upward.

"Marty!" He nudged her gently and she glanced up at him, "The stars are out."

Marty angled her head towards the night sky and Jack grinned as he watched that wonder-filled expression bloom across the girl's face, just as it always did whenever she looked out into the cosmos. Her eyes reflected the starlight from above and so did her soul. Jack could see the soft, pure light, twinkling and pulsing within and around her, just like a star. Marty's soul could have been made of starlight.

"They're beautiful here," She said, her voice soft.

"What do they remind you of tonight?" Jack asked. Marty's face scrunched up as she thought and Jack waited, patient and eager, to hear whatever thought's her beautiful mind would give him.

"You," She sighed after a while, "Tonight they remind me of you."

Jack's brows pulled together, expressing his confusion. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you're ninety-three percent stardust," She replied. Marty shared a secret smile with the sky, tilting her head a little and keeping her eyes on the stars above. "

"Oh," Jack said, his tone laced with surprise and a bit of confusion. "Thank you."

Marty shook her head. "No, Jack. Thank  you. "

"For what?"

"For saying that you'll stay with me, no matter what," She sighed, "And coming to rescue me. And for telling me I'm okay." Jack shrugged.

"Anyone would have done that."

Marty shook her head.

"No, not anyone. That vampire who claimed to be my friend - she never rescued me. All of her promises were empty."

Jack didn't know what to say, so he opted for a silent nod.

"Ik hou van je, zoet wezen," Marty whispered, her voice so quiet he almost didn't catch it.

"What does that mean?"

"It's Dutch."

"Okay." He nodded like that was an acceptable answer. "But what does it mean?"

"Not telling!" She smirked up at him. He shrugged and nodded before tilting his head down to whisper in her ear.

"Ego autem semper defendat vos, stella-puella."

He promised because he meant it.

Marty twisted around to face him, a playful frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Okay, what was that?" She asked. Jack shrugged innocently and hoped the dim starlight would hide the fierce blush spreading across his face.

"Latin."

"What?"

"You're not the only one who can speak another language!" He defended. Marty didn't look amused.

"Latin's a dead language," She claimed.

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's not."

"It totally is."

"Well, I speak it and I'm not dead." Jack grinned at the glare she was giving him.

"So what's it mean then, oh wise half-angel one?"

"Not telling!" He chirped. He should have known better.

Marty huffed and rolled her eyes before turning away again. Then she jabbed her elbow straight back into Jack's stomach.

Jack groaned, rubbing his side.

Marty had very boney elbows. It was very painful.

"Moron," She chuckled under her breath.

"Pipsqueak."

"I can hit you again."

"Please don't."

~I counted the stars tonight Oh, how they shine so bright I gather them all, so we perfectly align

While we gaze from far away And separately watch the day Come rising across the horizon in our minds

And now we know, our hearts are strong Where we belong is side by side And so we'll hold each other close And in our souls, we're standing by~

Lyrics from: Standing By by Pentatonix

Translations:

Ik hou van je, zoet wezen = I love you, sweet creature

Ego autem semper defendat vos, stella-puella = I will always protect you, star-girl

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Vampire Mitch/Bloodwhore Stiles; putting it under a cut with warnings for like. Everything lol (but mainly some mentioned self-harm and dub-con in a few spots. And also it’s like 3k long)

The general set up is this: Mitch frequents goth clubs in search of victims to feed on, because that’s the easiest way to find willing prey. One night, he meets Stiles, and is intrigued by the scent of blood on his skin. Later, he finds out it’s because Stiles is cutting, and that night he tried to kill himself, after his father’s recent death, but he couldn’t do it. Then he meets Mitch, and thinks/hopes Mitch will do it for him. 

When he was finished, Mitch cut the pad of his thumb on a fang and rubbed it over the bite. It would stop the bleeding, and Stiles would be healed by morning.

"Look at me," Mitch said, cupping Stiles' cheeks. His eyes were glazed, the glamour already working.

"You're not going to kill me?"

"I told you I wouldn't."

"Oh." Mitch could have sworn he heard a note of disappointment in Stiles' voice, but that wasn't his concern anymore.

Mitch isn’t interested in leaving a trail of bodies; that’s a quick way to attract hunters, and he likes living in peace, thank you very much. 

He sees Stiles a very different times before it becomes a regular thing. Even after taking his memories the first time, Stiles is drawn to him, and he keeps coming back.

Mitch has no guilt for what he’s doing with Stiles; he’s totally fine letting his pretty boy cut himself when it means he can lick up the blood, and Stiles is perfectly happy to be his blood whore. It gives him a sense of purpose again, it makes him feel needed, giving him something he needs to survive. (Though as we saw in the above snippet, Mitch doesn’t need Stiles when he can get blood from anyone, reminding him of his place.) But Stiles doesn’t need the reminder; he knows Mitch could easily find someone else. But this is the most content he’s felt since his dad died, so he’ll take whatever he can get. 

But poor Stiles felt so alone and useless after his dad died and his friends moved on, so why keep going, right? But now he has a reason to live. Even if it’s not a good one, it’s good enough for him, and Mitch is happy to keep him around like a beloved pet. 

Mitch pushed up Stiles' sleeve, his fingertips brushing along the lines of scars. There were dozens, too many to count, some deeper than others. Nights when he had been more determined, no doubt.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked softly, watching blood bead along a fresh cut that Stiles had hastily tried to hide, jerking down his sleeves and crossing his arms even when it pained him to do so.

Stiles was ashamed of his weakness, his pale cheeks showing his humiliation. He didn't try to pull away now that his shame was bared; there was no point, nowhere left to hide.

"To feel something, I guess."

"I could smell the blood on you when we met. I didn't know why." Mitch looked up at Stiles, understanding in his dark eyes. "You wanted me to kill you that night, didn't you?" Slowly, Stiles nodded.

"I couldn't do it… I tried, but I couldn't. I thought it would be easier if something else made the choice for me."

Mitch bit his lip then tenderly kissed Stiles' arm, smearing his blood over the wound so that it would heal. When he sat back up, Stiles had tears in his eyes; he gave Mitch a watery smile.

"I like it when you bite me, you know. It didn't hurt that first time. I thought it would, but it felt… I don't know. Better than this. Will you do it again?

"If Mitch were a better man, then he would leave his lover, get him the help he so dearly needed. Instead he let Stiles climb into his lap, folded into him and held Stiles closer. Turned to gently sink his teeth into Stiles' wrist when he offered it, petting his hands down Stiles' back when he shivered from the elation.

Mitch is Complicated. On the one hand, he does like Stiles, and wishes he weren’t so sad that he turned to self harm. On the other hand, he’s a selfish creature by nature, and he can’t deny that he benefits from it. Pretty soon, though, Stiles trades his blades for Mitch’s fangs. 

Then one night, further into the relationship, but not far enough that Mitch has Feelings yet (so he’s still a soulless prick), Stiles starts asking some morbid questions. Eventually Mitch says something like if he wanted to, he could keep Stiles young and beautiful forever. And that’s the end of the conversation; he doesn’t offer to do it, and Stiles doesn’t ask, thinking that if Mitch wanted to keep him around that long, Mitch would offer to. So he’ll just content himself with however long he gets with Mitch before he eventually gets bored and kills him.

The blood ritual wouldn’t turn Stiles; he’d be more than human, but less than a vampire. It would bind him to Mitch as his blood whore forever. But the catch: if Mitch dies, so will Stiles. Interdependence at its finest. 

But as far as Mitch is concerned, Stiles is a sweet snack pack with the added benefit of sex, and feeding while fucking is quite the high; it’s not something he’s had in a long time, because he doesn’t like to sleep with someone and then take their memories of the night. He does have some morals. But he hasn’t decided if Stiles is worth keeping around forever, yet, which is why he doesn’t offer to do it. 

Changing tracks to much later in the relationship, which Mitch has caught Serious Feelings (but is still in denial). Mitch works in the hospital which is how he normally gets his blood, which his weekly outings being used to get something fresher than the frozen stuff. Then one day while he’s on shift, Stiles gets brought into the emergency room. 

Whatever happened, Stiles almost dies and Mitch realizes that he really doesn’t want to lose him. And not even because it would be inconvenient to go out and find someone to replace him, he just Really Enjoys Stiles (it’s okay Mitch, you can admit you love him) and he is unwilling to give him up. So he shoots Stiles up with his blood to help him heal/keep him alive, and after he offers to do the binding ritual for Stiles, to keep something like this from happening again, because he can not risk losing Stiles again. What if someone hadn’t called an ambulance? What if it had been just a little slower to respond? What if Mitch hadn’t been there? It’s not something he’s willing to consider; Stiles means too much to him. But Stiles just has hearts and sparkles in his eyes because Mitch! wants!! to keep him!!!

Once Stiles gets discharged and Mitch takes him home from the hospital, he’s still weak from the blood loss, and they should really wait before attempting the ritual, but Stiles doesn’t want to give Mitch a chance to rethink his offer. (He wouldn’t, but Stiles has self-worth issues). So they do it practically as soon as they’re through the door; there’s set up of course, preparations to be made, but as soon as it’s physically possible, they’re doing it. (Featuring bloodplay and ritual sex for the win.) 

My friend once asked if the binding out reinforce Stiles’ obsession with needed to be worthy of Mitch, or if it would comfort him, and it’s definitely the latter. The ritual is damn serious; it binds their souls, and it can’t be broken; it’s not something a vampire does lightly. Most never find someone they care about that deeply, that they would tie their lives together in a way that one can’t live without the other. Not when it’s so much easier to make a thrall, and have a similar effect. But it’s about more than having a slightly-immortal-human to feed on. It’s about complete devotion to the one person you want to spend eternity with. 

Mitch isn’t very emotionally expressive most of the time. Nothing extreme, anyway. His natural state of being is pretty apathetic, just as a result of being undead. But when he almost lost Stiles, he was devastated, and Stiles was just aware enough to see how broken Mitch was at the possibility of him dying. It’s enough to tell him Mitch really does care for him, that it wasn’t just an act to keep Stiles coming back, or a passing infatuation. Mitch loves him, enough that he can’t live without him. 

(Not back to the beginning of their story) 

Stiles could barely breathe past the hand around his throat, Mitch’s nails lengthening into sharp claws that savaged his skin. His smile was cruel as Stiles scratched at his hand, trying to pull it away.

“I like you, Stiles,” he said, sweeter than poisoned honey, “but I don’t need you. Don’t forget that.”

Mitch carelessly cast him aside, leaving Stiles to collapse in a gasping heap on the filthy alley floor. The vampire stalked off without so much as a look back, having already forgotten about the pathetic human pleading for him to come back.

In the beginning of their acquaintance, Mitch is Very Unkind at times. He has no problem using Stiles up and throwing him away when he’s done like a Capri Sun. He’s not always like that, a lot of times he’s perfectly nice, but he’s also a fickle bitch. It’s no wonder Stiles is so desperate to please, because now that he’s been with Mitch, he can’t imagine not having him again.

(Heads up for some lamb-to-the-slaughter flavored dubcon)

Mitch left Stiles feeling thoroughly used, curled up in filthy sheets with every part of his body aching. There was nothing left unscathed, from the welts raked down his chest by sharp claws to his aching insides from too rough sex. His fingers were cramped from digging into the sheets, a litany of bite marks spanning his neck and shoulders and thighs, angry red and still sluggishly bleeding, a perfect match to the thin scratches and cuts covering his chest.

Stiles curled up around a pillow, wrapped around it for comfort. He felt cold, colder than Mitch. His lover hadn’t bothered to heal him this time, not sharing the rejuvenating properties of his blood before he left. Tonight, he wanted Stiles to hurt. Even as he sniffled into his pillow Stiles smiled to himself; it smelled like sex and blood and Mitch, comforting even if he lover wasn’t there to hold him.

(That sounds worse than it is in context; Stiles likes the rough sex lol. But he’s also being super self-destructive about it, basically using Mitch as a replacement for his self-harm. Once Mitch figures that out, he’s sweeter during sex.)

Mitch is super dismissive when he wants to be. But he can also be kind. After that,t he next time he sees Stiles he’s very gentle with him, making love instead of making him hurt, and Stiles loves that side of him, too. Especially when Mitch stays afterwards, feeding him chocolate and giving him kisses as a reward for being his good boy, and making amends for being so rough with him. Sometimes he forgets Stiles is only a delicate human. 

There’s also the issue that vampires feel differently than humans. I keep mentioning that his emotions are dulled, because once you’ve been alive for hundreds of years, things starts to just... flatten. Which means Mitch can be incredibly callous, and not take into account how Stiles feels. It’s easy to treat him like an object. 

But no matter what Mitch does, Stiles is never afraid of him. Not even when Mitch probably tries to scare him; when he realizes he’s catching feelings, and doesn’t know what to with that, so he tries to push Stiles away by frightening him. But Stiles refuses to see him as a monster. But it’s not just that: what’s Mitch going to do, kill him? That’s what Stiles originally wanted, anyway, and now he would rather die than live without him. Stiles has zero sense for self preservation. 

(Mitch is... a little concerned about that, actually, when he realizes just how deep it goes. Stiles is the complete opposite to him, as someone who’s a pure survivalist, that only cares about himself and staying alive. Stiles cares about everyone else, and doesn’t care if he lives or dies.) But it doesn’t matter what Mitch does, as long as he keeps coming back, and that has him like woah. That’s A Lot for him. He doesn’t even really understand it, because he’s never felt like that about someone before. (Except Stiles, of course, he’s just in denial. He doesn’t truly get how deep he is until the hospital incident.) 

(And now to the end of the story, so to speak.)

After they do the ritual, part of the binding is that they can feel what the other is feeling. This means Stiles can immediately tell when Mitch is in a Mood, and knows just what he needs, and the reverse is true. Stiles deflects with humor, but Mitch can always tell what he’s really feeling. Now he has no choice but to consider Stiles’ emotions, and the bond takes away all the guesswork. 

Then of course the feedback loop is a thing. Mitch hasn’t been able to feel strong emotions in centuries, but like everything about Stiles, his emotions are so vibrant. He feels things so deeply, it’s a rush, and Mitch can’t get enough. It’s like a drug; he does something to make Stiles happy/pleased/excited and he gets some of that back, and it’s Great. (He liked pleasing his precious boy before, but now it’s Even More, and Stiles has to admit, he loves it. He thinks it’s cute the way Mitch does different things to see the effect it has on him, like a kid with a new science experiment. It’s adorable.) 

Unfortunately, the binding has an unforeseen consequence. 

Ronnie, the vampire that turned Mitch, finds out he has a new pet. Word travels, and it’s not every century someone is binding themselves to a human. And isn’t that just the sweetest *gag*. It’s clear Mitch adores Stiles, and really? Mitch of all people has fallen in love with a human? Ronnie almost doesn’t believe it. (He was probably very Vlad the Impaler back in the day. Dracula Untold kind of vamp.)

Ronnie thinks it’s pathetic. He thought Mitch was better than that. It was bad enough the way he used to get so guilty when he killed someone to feed, starving himself for days or weeks at a time until he couldn’t take it anymore, instead of killing whoever and whenever he wanted like Ronnie. (Little bit Lestat and Louis, but Mitch isn’t that much of a bitch about it. Maybe more Damon and Stefan; Mitch overdid it when he was first turned, then felt bad about it once he got a handle on himself, and went to the other extreme trying to make up for it. Now he’s equaled out.) Anyway, now Mitch has reached a whole new low in Ronnie’s eyes. 

So, he decided to pay Mitch a visit, see if the rumors are true, and finds him being all disgustingly domestic and in love with Stiles. Hardly the fearsome predator befitting a vampire of his status, and he is irrationally angry over it. Feels betrayed. The meeting doesn’t go well. Mitch tells him to fuck himself and stay the hell away from his mate -and isn’t that interesting. Mitch knows it was a mistake as soon as he said it, but he can’t take it back, can’t pretend like Ronnie didn’t hear it. He really has drunk the Kool-Aid; Stiles isn’t even just a bloodwhore for him anymore; he’s gone and fallen in gross, sticky love with the human. 

Ronnie leaves, but not for long. He decides to find out what it is about this particular human that’s got Mitch all ruffled and weak-kneed, and kidnaps him. He bides his time until Stiles is alone, Mitch nowhere near close enough to save him. Stiles wasn’t there for the initial reunion, but he can guess who Ronnie is; Mitch has told him about his life, and who he was before, when he was still human. About the monster that turned him. But he knows Mitch will find him. 

Mitch immediately knows Stiles is in danger, can feel his distress through the bond, but by the time he comes home it’s too late. They’re gone. The house is trashed, and he can smell Stiles’ blood, and he has no idea where they could have gone, and he can’t think because all he can feel is Stiles’ fear, and it’s driving him crazy because he doesn’t know what to do. Where to even begin looking for them. 

Ronnie starts off by torturing Stiles, knowing it will get Mitch riled up. Drinks his blood, makes him hurt. He’s not particularly impressed; there’s nothing special about Stiles, he’s just another human. Nothing he can see to make him worth tying his life to Mitch’s own, putting his own life at risk. Because just like Stiles will die with Mitch, the reverse is also true. 

Slowly, Ronnie begins to use his thrall on Stiles. He’s gradual with it, so that his slow acceptance of his new place in life feels natural. Stiles doesn’t even realize it isn’t, so of course Mitch won’t. Until Stiles is completely under Ronnie’s influence, a perfect little blood slave, who Ronnie keeps naked and chained to his bed. Not because he’s particularly interested, but because it keeps Stiles afraid, he knows it will kill Mitch to imagine the kinds of things he’s done to his mate. (Not that Ronnie would eve debase himself by lying with a human, he’s Better Than That, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have his fun in other ways...) 

Since it’s not so much physical feeling that comes through the bond, Mitch would have no way to know if someone else was touching Stiles, or if he was being ordered to touch himself, putting on a show for Ronnie’s amusement. Mitch would only know that Stiles was getting off, and assume the worst given the circumstances. But with how much Ronnie hates humans, and is angry at Stiles in particular for having one of his old “friends” whipped like a bitch, it wouldn’t be far-fetched for him to find someone else unsavory to play with Stiles for a while, and give him back his mind just enough that the fear bleeds through to Mitch. 

By the time Mitch finds them, Stiles is barely clinging to life. He’s slightly more immortal than your average bear, but he’s still only human, and Ronnie has been doing the bare minimum not to kill him, if only because he doesn’t want to actually kill Mitch (yet). He still hopes he can bring Mitch back to his way of things, and relegate Stiles back to the worthless bloodwhore he is. 

Mitch finds them mid-feeding, and Stiles’ heartbeat if so faint, Mitch would think he was dead if not for the fact that he was still standing. Ronnie has been keeping him weak as a kitten from the frequent feedings; Stiles doesn’t even register Mitch is there. 

Of course Mitch is going to kill Ronnie for what he’s done, Stiles watching in a daze from the bed, feeling like it’s all a dream, still under the effects of Ronnie’s compulsion. It finally breaks when Mitch tears his throat out, and Stiles is so relieved but he’s also so tired. And then Mitch is there, holding him, wrapping a blanket around him, trying to keep him warm. Gives Stiles his blood to help him heal, and Stiles sluggishly realizes Mitch is offering to turn him, but Stiles doesn’t want that, because then Mitch won’t be able to feed on him anymore - except Mitch doesn’t care, he just wants Stiles to be safe, strong enough to protect himself, since apparently he can’t, he failed, and he can’t risk that happening again so please-

But Stiles refuses, because it might not be important to Mitch, but it’s important to him, because it means Mitch still needs him, and if Mitch turns him, he’ll be taking that away. He’s half right; Mitch does need him, but he’s never needed Stiles for his blood. 

[lovemalecforever]

Chapter 17

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

*Before leaving for the forest*

A loud yawn escaped from Jace's mouth before he could stop it, earning a light smack and an eye roll from his Parabatai.

"What was that for?" He asked sleepily, blinking hard to stay awake.

"I only asked Clary to create me a portal, not for you all to gather to see me off. I'll only be gone for a day."

"We wanted to see you before you leave, big brother. When you get back you won't be a mortal anymore." Izzy said, trying to suppress the yawn and failing badly.

"I agree, I missed Fray's calling upon the angel thingy, at least I can see off before you leave to become immortal." Simon defended his girlfriend.

"Why is he here, again?" Alec said, eyeing Simon.

"Because we wanted to see you as a mortal Shadowhunter one last time kid!" Luke said while walking towards the gang with Maryse.

"Luke! Mom!" Alec's eyes widened. "Now don't tell me Max is here too!"

As on cue, Max chimed in. "You're gonna have wings when you return Alec? Like real wings? That would be so cool!"

"Seriously!" Alec looked at his family around him and wanted to bang his head on the wall, only the looks on their faces stopped him from doing so.

"Alec, my boy, Luke is right. What you're going to do is a big step, we just wanted to be there for you before you take this step and tell you that we all are there for you, and we all love you, mortal or not."

"Thank you, Mom, all of you. Now, can you please create the portal Clary?" He asked, a little frustrated.

"Before that," Jace interrupted, "handle me your phone, Alec." He said, stretching out his palm in front of him.

"What? Why?"

"As I remember, Catarina said that you're 'awakening' will be really powerful. Do you want to shatter your phone into pieces?"

Alec took out his phone but hesitated.

"Alec, we'll handle it if Magnus calls, don't worry," Clary said, noticing the way he hesitated.

"Don't worry big brother, you're doing this for Magnus right? We'll handle him if he calls any of us, okay?"

Alec sighed. "Okay." He handed the phone to Jace. "Now, the portal."

Clary stepped forward and created a portal for him. He looked around to see his family and thanked them all for their support then stepped into the portal.

____________________________

*Later- Jace's room*

Jace stirred in his sleep when his whole body suddenly started aching. He started twisting and turning, then jolted awake, sweat dribbling from his whole body.

Clary, who was sound asleep on his chest, jolted awake.  "Jace, what's wrong?" She asked, completely alarmed.

"D... Don't know. My whole body, it's aching, precisely my shoulders or around there."

Clary touched his back to soothe him a little but he flinched so she backed away, not sure how to help him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to. But my whole bo...." Before he could finish a loud scream escaped from his mouth.

"Jace!" She quickly wrapped her arms around him and started rubbing his back, unsure what else to do.

"I don't know what's happening, Clary. My back!" He grunted in pain.

"Jace! Try to relax, okay? Just breathe!" She ran her fingers through his long golden hair and continued rubbing soothing circles on his back when something caught her eye.

"J..Jace, your Parabatai rune!"

Jace looked down at his rune which was glowing in a goldish silver color. They exchanged a confused look, they've never seen a rune glowing in silver.

"Alec! He's.. he's in pain. I need to get to him."

"Jace, wait! Remember, we can't be there. This might be an awakening like Catarina told us. He would be fine, Jace. Come here now." She grabbed her boyfriend and caged him in her tiny arms, planting a soft kiss on his neck.

"I hope he is, Clairebear. The pain I felt... if this was what I felt then Alec..." He trailed off, shivering from the thought of how much pain his brother would be going through. And also utterly confused by the silver glow of his rune.

"Try to sleep, Jace. He will be fine."

Jace nodded, knowing that the pain had now faded, Alec would be fine. But that did make him worried about his Parabatai. He sighed frustratingly knowing he couldn't do anything about it, then laid down again, but this time on his girlfriend's chest, listening to the rhythmic beats of her heart which helped him to calm down. He closed his eyes, giving in completely to the soothing sound of his girlfriend's heartbeats.

Clary looked at the sleeping form of Jace on her chest and smiled fondly, stroking his scalp soothingly. She of all the people knew that behind a cocky, stubborn, egoistic, strong, self-centered Shadowhunter is a lost, soft-hearted, emotional, and broken person, who wants nothing but love. Not long after, she drifted to sleep.

_______________________________

*Later that day*

*Alicante*

Magnus was thoroughly exhausted, he worked the whole day trying to distract himself from the disappointment, guilt, and constant emptiness but it was still there, as bright as a summer day, adding to his exhaustion more than before. His house was way too empty for his liking. After last night, lying to his husband, he couldn't help but feel guilty about it. He just wanted to be in his shadowhunter's arms badly. He wanted him home, but he knew that he couldn't, he was away for work. He wouldn't disturb him or ask him to come back just because he was being selfish.

He sighed, rubbed his face then looked down at the plate kept on the table and gently pushed it away. He didn't have an appetite, didn't want to. The pin-drop silence of the apartment was nerve-wracking. At one point he would have enjoyed this solitude, but not right now. It was too much for him. He got up, created a portal, and quickly stepped into it.

When he stepped out of the portal he was outside that bar in Germany again. taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, went to the counter, and ordered a neat whiskey.  as he took a huge sip of it, his shoulders slumped. after finishing the first glass, he ordered a refill, completely oblivious to a figure approaching him.

The woman eyed him from a distance, setting up a plan in her mind as she started walking towards him. She had long thick black hair with red highlights, deep black eyes, and had a perfect eyeliner traced above it, with deep red eyeshadow, and pale skin. Her glossy black lipstick stood out from her pale skin tone. She wore a shimmering black sheath dress with a deep sweetheart neckline, defining her perfect curves; accompanied by a pair of blood-red 6-inch pencil heels. She stood beside him, smirking at his obliviousness, then waved to the bartender.

"A shot of plasma, love."

Magnus was draining himself into the effect of the alcohol so he could forget the pain he was feeling when he saw a woman approaching him. she stood beside him and ordered her a drink, she looked familiar but he ignored it, ordering his own refill. The bartender was quick with his refills. He took a sip and sighed audibly.

"A neat whiskey! Are you in pain love? I think I can help you with that." The woman said.

Magnus wanted to answer her, but something about her sounded way too familiar. 'Do I know her?' he thought.

"No thank you, I'm fine." He said without looking at her.

"Come on, Magnus, who else other than me can help you in forgetting your pain?" She asked, her tone was sweet but dipped with venom.

Magnus froze, he was listening to those words, that voice after a long time. He now knows why the voice sounded so familiar. 'No! How can it be possible? It can't be possible!' he thought.

"C.. Camille Belcourt?" He slowly turned towards her, noticing her completely different features but the same dreadful eyes.

"Who else can it be, Magnus? What happened, did your Shadowhunter left you? I had told you, love, warned you, he won't last." Camille said, a vicious smile forming on her lips.

Magnus swallowed, hard. He was here to forget his pain in alcohol, not adding to his misery. "Shut your mouth, Camille. And don't say a word about him, I have no interest in sharing my personal life with you, so get lost."

"Come on, Magnus, you know that I'm always going to be your true love, even after what you did, I still love you. I'm always going to be the one, Magnus. Your Shadowhunter won't last." She said, sipping her shot of plasma in one go.

Magnus looked at her, not just looked at her, noticed her, every change on her except for her dark soulless eyes. 'Is that.. plasma? The hell!?' He thought to himself.

"How are you a vampire again?" He asked before he could even register he was going to say it. His eyes never leaving her changed form.

"Oh, Magnus, you know I have my way, love." She grinned evilly.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

-3 years ago-

"Remind me why Clave needs my presence all of a sudden? As far as I remember, I'm doing my job properly." Magnus asked, way too frustrated with the sudden call to be present at the gard for a meeting when he was enjoying the beach in the Caribbean with his husband.

"Us, our presence, Magnus. And I don't know, Jia didn't say anything. Apart from that fire message we got, she didn't contact me further."

Magnus sighed. They were heading towards the conference room when they bumped into Jace and Izzy in the hall.

"Jace! Iz! What are you both doing here?" Alec asked.

"Jia called us and said it was important. What are you both doing here?" Jace replied.

"Same!" Alec replied with a sigh.

"Let's see then what she wants from us!" Magnus said, and they entered the conference room where Jia was already waiting for them. She greeted them and they all sat in their respective places.

"I know this meeting was a sudden call, and for that, I apologize Mr. Lightwood Bane(s), Miss Lightwood, and Mr. Herondale, but this is regarding the act of Victor Aldertree, he conducted two years ago."

Everyone exchanged a look. "What about it, Jia?" Alec asked, trying to push away his fear.

"When Victor converted the downworlders into mundanes, there were many who were killed, but when you Miss Lightwood and Aline secretly investigated it and caught Aldertree, destroying his lab in the process, there were many prisoners who escaped, in these two years we caught many but there are few who are out there and we need to find them soon."

"Where are we going with this?" Magnus asked. "As we all already know, the search is fully in progress."

She took a few files from her bag and handed them one each. "These are the prisoners we recently caught, Pandora Berklee and Raven Thomas, but the problem is, when we caught them they were not mundanes, Pandora was a vampire again and Raven werewolf. They were more ferocious and dangerous than before. That's why we need to find the remaining prisoners as soon as we can."

"Wait, they are downworlders again. But how?" Alec inquired.

"We interrogated them but so far we only know that they lured out their kind into transforming into what they were. We still don't know the full details but need to catch the rest as soon as possible. If you go to the next page, they are the remaining prisoners: Flora Hollis, Tatia Ross, Ulsura Enkenzi, Gabriel Liaison, Yinsu Yinki, Dora Venter, Seth Allberti, August Rosedale, Benzene Westfield, and Camille Belcourt."

Everyone except Jia froze listening to the name of Camille on the list. Alec put his hand above his husband's thigh under the table and squeezed it gently.

"We'll spread the word around the globe. Magnus?" Alec said.

"I'll spread it to all the warlocks and the rest of the downworld." He replied and squeezed back his shadowhunter's hand.

"I'll start with New York and spread the word around the institutes," Izzy said.

"I know you all will do your best, that's why I called this meeting. Thank you for your time." Jia greeted them once again.

They all got up, shook each other's hands, and left for their respective places.

Magnus opened the portal and dragged his husband back to the beach in the Caribbean, trying to soothe himself. He snapped his fingers and vanished their clothes, then snapped them again and summoned coconut water for them.

Alec looked down at himself and shook his head, followed with an audible sigh. "Seriously, Magnus, I already told you I'm not comfortable being naked in the open, put me in some clothes!" He said while trying to cover his junk from one hand and holding the coconut water in the other while sipping on it.

"Alexander, it's just us here. So try and relax."

They reached the campsite and Magnus started laying down the beach mat when Alec froze in his place.

"Magnus!!" He called. Magnus reached beside his husband and froze. There was a message written on the sand.

I'll come back for you, Magnus. One day I will, and those nephilims will suffer. I'm not done with you, love. CB

They both looked at each other with horrified expressions, sinking in what just happened. They searched the whole island but she wasn't there.

As soon as they got back to Idris, they did everything to catch the remaining prisoners, working day and night, doing everything they could, eventually, they caught the prisoners except for one... Camille Belcourt! She vanished without a trace.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Ways? And what were your ways, Camille?" He spat out.

"Oh, Magnus! Don't be so spiteful, love. I came back for you." She said while running her perfectly manicured nails on his face.

Magnus shivered when she traced her fingers on his face. As soon as his mind registered what she was doing, he quickly shoved her hands away. "Where were you all this time, Camille? And how the hell are you a vampire again?"

Camille gave a malicious smile. "Doesn't your Shadowhunter love you anymore, Magnus, because you definitely enjoyed my touch."

Magnus screwed his eyes shut and gulped. He took a deep breath then ordered one more refill. "Answer me, Camille!" He said coldly.

"It's so easy to deceive the clave. Bunch of idiots! I was in India, it's a nice country and very welcoming!"

"India!" He repeated, surprised. "This whole time!" He mumbled under his breath. "You didn't answer my second question!" He said coldly.

"Oh, my love, there are many vampires who crave mundane blood, and many who want to expand their clan. You just need to find the right one." She smirked.

"You manipulated Vampires, just to become one once again!" He sighed. "Why am I not surprised!" He drank his whiskey in one gulp and ordered one more refill.

"Oh, Magnus, what had that shadowhunter done to you! Let me take away your pain." She pushed herself on him, pinning him on the counter with her vampire strength, running her hands over his and rubbing her knees over his legs.

Before Magnus could register what was happening, a pair of soft glossy lips were on his own, taking him hungrily. The kiss was filled with lust and passion, and he could taste something metallic as the kiss deepened. His shoulders slumped as he leaned against the counter, body giving in to the needs and mind going numb. Lust was clogging his mind and he was replying with the same fierceness as the heaviness above him kept increasing as if someone or something was crushing him.

With every passing second, the kiss kept getting deeper as sharp teeth clashed against his making a moan escape from his throat. He was completely gone into the lust until a pair of beautiful soft hazel eyes and an intoxicating smile flashed in his mind, followed by memories of his wedding day. 'Alexander...' wedding vows rang in his ears, bringing him back to reality. 'Alexander... no! no! What am I doing? no!'

With every inch of strength he could muster, he pushed her with full force, making her stumble back. An evil smile was plastered on Camille's face and she was licking her fangs when he opened his eyes. Licking his lips, he noticed that blood was dripping down from his lips onto his chin and down on the floor. Tears pooled in his eyes as his heart pounded in his chest. 'What have I done? no, Alexander... what have I done? How can I do this?'

Camille took a step forward, outstretched her hand, trying to caress his face but he shoved it harshly and pushed her back yet again. "Don't touch me, Camille Belcourt!"

"What's wrong Magnus? I thought you were enjoying it!" She said, playing innocent.

"Don't you dare try to be innocent! You did this! Stay away from me, Camille! Stay away from me!" He spat and then ran out of the bar.

"Oh, love, I'm not done with you. It's just the start, we'll meet again, Magnus!" She said viciously and disappeared into the crowd.

Tears were pooling down Magnus's face as he tried to wipe it away, rubbing it again and again as he kept running until he was far away from the bar then halted and leaned against the wall of a dark alleyway, heartbeat racing so fast that it was audible in the silence. 'What have I done? How can I do this? How can I cheat on him? Alexander... I... I need to tell him... yes...'  Without thinking he took out his phone and dialed his husband's number.

"A.. Alexander, I-"

"Hey Magnus, this is Jace, Alec is with Maryse. They are having their no phone, no disturbance mother-son time. Is there something important? I'll convey your message." Jaces' rushed voice came through the other side.

Magnus sighed as tears kept falling on his cheeks. "Uh.. n..no, umm.. nothing important. Just... just wanted to talk to him. I'll call later I guess."

"Okay then, bye."

Hanging up the call, Magnus created a portal and stepped into it, landing right beside his bed, then snapped his fingers to remove the clothes that had Camille's perfume all over them and burned them down to ashes, then fell on the bed with a loud thud.'What have I done? How can I do this? I'm so sorry Alexander, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to!  I'm so sorry. '  Curling into a ball of a fetus, he burst into tears and, not after long, fell asleep.