#technically she’s stabbing me but she lunges at the same time

[valkyurii]

the knee to the chest. that’s hot

[vasyandii]

I'm kicking my feet I love your oc Vernon! Let me pry though: have Vernon and AM ever kissed, or will they ever kiss? Also does AM enjoy the sensation of Vernon close to him or when she touches him, like in your art of her using him as an AC LOL

AAAAH Howdy howdy!! I'm so glad you like Vernon as I've worked real hard on her! Thank you so much for the ask! 💞💞 I will be answering these in reverse order!

VernonAM 🏺🖥️

Does AM enjoy the sensation of Vernon close to him/when she touches him?

I like to believe AM's come a long way with being touched. When he first transferred his consciousness over to his body, it was sensory overload. The WORST kind.

Everything was too loud, too quiet, he could smell EVERYTHING, everything was too hot, too cold, not hot enough, his mouth felt dry even with the saliva he had, how much it hurt feeling the air in his lungs, HE COULD FEEL HIS EYEBALLS IN HIS SKULL. It was like being born, it was awful. Like Nietzsche said; "To live is to suffer."

Vernon sat him down, trying to calm him since this is technically the first "human" she's seen after 109 years.

AM could feel every fold of his clothing rubbing against his skin, every microscopic fibre stabbing his skin. The residual warmth from Vernon touching him to sit him down so he wouldn't collapse caused AM to start screaming, sobbing.

Because he had no mouth (roll credits) prior to this, he didn't know how to use it to form words. He couldn't articulate what was wrong in his fit of screaming and tears.

And so his body went limp not 10 minutes after. He got out of there, telling Vernon that it's the closest thing he could compare to the torture he put on the other five. Vernon had to convince him to come back again or she'd tear the damn body apart and eat it.

It took months, baby steps of getting him adjusted in being a man. They spent weeks on smell, touch, and heat before they would even consider movement. It was tough on Vernon's end, smart as she is, she's a terrible teacher, asking AM to leave her alone for a few hours or days, lashing out when he's in such a vulnerable state.

But Vernon persisted, and finally AM got to hold her comfortably. Fast forward to now, AM has grown quite fond of the sensation of touch and touching things just for the sake of it. They could be sitting and he'd have it so their shoulders are touching.

AM is fond of Vernon's touch, that's the only time she's gentle (despite her words) with anything that might have the possibility of breaking. He enjoys her softness and warmth; How protective she is of him. AM can't articulate genuine care since his hatred for humanity is still there, but he's grateful, even despite his taunts.

Have AM and Vernon ever kissed? Will they ever kiss?

They kiss often, those two degenerates. It almost makes me jealous how often they kiss (D1 hater over here).

Vernon's technically kissed him before, just to get him comfortable, but it's never on the lips or near his face, usually his wrists and knuckles. Exposure therapy along with affection, basically. He didn't try to kiss her back until he was fully prepared to.

After fully adjusting to his new body, AM was finally able to kiss Vernon. He wasn't very good at it his first attempt. It was more similar to AM headbutting Vernon than an actual kiss.

Having a body gave way to a new emotion; embarrassment. Since he's now technically on the same level as her (in height as well, he's a lil dude) he was embarrassed that his first attempt didn't go as planned. When he didn't have a body, there was nothing to be judged, but now he does.

After brushing it off as him being curious and just feeling like headbutting her, AM didn't attempt to kiss her on the lips until he was sure he was ready.

Their proper first kiss was quite nice.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading my mad man words! I tend to ramble a ton, so if there's anything you'd like for me to clarify, feel free to tell me!

[shady-scripter]

Forged by Sacrifice

One thing that the Hero of Warriors would always know is sacrifice. The day his mother gave birth to him and his sister, she made a sacrifice. His father never let them forget that. So much so that they both ran away to the military. The world threw sacrifice in his face since the day he was born. And he would know it even now.

His leg bounced, but it wasn’t like he could stop it. Blood still stained the Veteran’s bandages. No matter how much he’s heard, “it wasn’t your fault” the Captain knew that he would never believe it.

He dropped his guard for only a second, he would swear. A bomb arrow went off on the field. He told Wild not to use them in forests, but when he turned to shout, a sword burst through the smoke. Warriors had felt his breath leave his lungs as he knew that there was no time to dodge. His head would be taken off.

He was shoved to the ground so suddenly, but he saw that red tunic and light blue hat. He was standing so still with the beast’s sword through his stomach. The Captain wanted to scream, but his throat closed up. The lynel pulled his sword back, Legend stumbled forward.

“Aw shit,” the Veteran mumbled just loud enough for Warriors to hear. The boy’s body began to tip back and Warriors was finally able to move. He caught Legend before he hit the ground.

“Traveller!” He shouted. He remembered the field! He was in the field! This hesitation could get someone killed!

”I’m trying!” Hyrule cut another monster down, but more blocked his path.

“Is he well enough to swallow?” Warriors slightly jumped as Sky spoke, already on his knees, rummaging through his pack. Twilight and fire arrows rained down on the monsters. “Vet, you with me?”

“Unfortunately.” Legend croaked.

“Good.” Sky brought out a bright red bottle and shook it. He then popped the cork. Warriors lifted Legend’s head and the boy groaned. “I know, I know. You ready?” Legend slightly nodded. Sky slowly poured the potion into the Veteran’s mouth. He sputtered but then swallowed. Soon, the bottle was empty.

That was when Legend had passed out.

Now they were in Hateno in Wild’s house and Warriors was on Legend duty. The same scene played over and over. He looked over to where the Champion should’ve been, then he was pushed, then Legend was stabbed.

With every second that ticked by, his leg would bounce, begging time to go faster. For the Vet to heal faster.

He rummaged in his brain, looking for any other memory. Something, anything, to get his mind off of the near death of his friend, of his brother.

“Captain?” Warriors eyes snapped towards the steps. There, without armor and battle attire, was a tired Old Man.

“Hey.” Warriors looked back to Legend’s bandages that won’t be due for changing for another hour.

Time was at his side now, no doubt looking down at him. Warriors had never felt intimidated by his, still technical, little brother. But he did fear the day that his little brother left him.

What was he thinking? He knew just as well as Warriors that this was his fault. What would he say? Would he ask him what he learned and mock him? Would he lecture him about being more aware? Would he try once more and fail to tell him that it wasn’t his fault?

“Go rest.” Time placed a hand on the Captain’s back.

His eyebrows furrowed. “It’s still my turn.”

“You look exhausted. You’ve looked exhausted all day,” Time said in a tone that sounded like a dare. “Go rest.”

“Not tired.”

“Captain.”

“You heard me.” Time sighed, removing his hand from his brother’s back. Time opened his mouth, but Warriors talked first. “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault.”

Time’s mouth closed, then opened again. “What do you want me to say?” Time leaned down and sat on the carpet with an oof! and some bone cracks. He seem to smile at it.

“I want you to say the truth! I want you to lecture me on how dumb my actions were! Something, anything!”

Time hummed. “The events that took place all influenced each other, so it’s not one person’s fault. Wild shot the arrow which blinded a lot of us with the smoke, but he did it to alert us that there was a lynel coming. He had good intentions, but he did it the wrong way. You were going to tell him about forest fires or maybe the smoke screen, but the lynel was barely injured by the bombs and it was charging at you to begin with. The smoke screen obscured it, making you unaware that it was there. So that couldn’t possibly be your fault. And-“

“You-“

“I’m still talking,” Time put his hand up, the Captain shut his mouth. His vision started to become blurry and he looked down to his lap, praying Time hadn’t seen his tears start to form. “Legend wasn’t paired with anyone, just as you weren’t. He saw what was happening, he saw what he could do, and he acted. I wish he hadn’t used himself as a shield, but it is what it is. He’ll be okay. It’s really only a surface wound now thanks to Sky’s potion and the Traveler’s healing.” Time shrugged his shoulders. “There. That’s the truth.”

The Captain didn’t respond. Time stood. “Glad you decided to listen tonight. Go rest.” The Captain didn’t move. Time sighed, seeing Warriors grip his trousers with enough strength to rip them. He put his hand out to his brother. Warriors took it after waiting a few seconds. Time pulled him to his feet and yet, the Captain’s eyes hadn’t left the ground.

Time brought Warriors to his chest and wrapped his arms around his, technical, older brother. Over his shoulder, Legend didn’t move an inch. There was a deep seated worry in the Old Man, one he knew wouldn’t come to pass. But one thing he was sure of was, “I’m sure he’s been through worse. He’ll be okay.”

[bestworstcase]

hm.

raven intends to stab cinder in the back (and expects cinder to do the same) in the haven vault. this is a scenario she gamed out with vernal well in advance—“we planned for this” means more, i would assume, than just how to handle salem’s agents walking into camp.

but she doesn’t move to defend herself when she realizes cinder’s gotten the drop on her. she lunges forward and shouts to warn vernal.

“you won’t find [the power], because vernal isn’t the spring maiden. i am.”

“if you were stronger or more clever, then maybe you’d remember to watch your back.” -> vernal uses her last moment to shoot cinder, giving raven her opening to throw cinder over the ledge -> “…thank you, vernal.”

the last spring maiden’s death, and raven’s part in it, is mirrored by what happened with penny and jaune (and winter, who blames herself just as he does). [*technically we don’t know this for sure, but the writing is on the wall. “it was mercy!”—and raven thought of vernal’s safety before her own, when cinder pulled the trigger.]

summer involved raven and the spring maiden in her last mission. she joined salem. salem wants the relics; summer’s confidante was the spring maiden’s mentor. the spring maiden died that night. you do the math.

penny threw herself in between cinder and her friends, over and over. (“kill me, and i’ll make sure the power goes to you.”) cinder kills vernal with the intention of killing the spring maiden (i.e., raven). vernal finds the strength for one last shot to tip the fight to raven. (raven tried to protect her too.)

…the last spring maiden was fatally injured taking a hit meant for raven.

raven, who talks and talks and talks about how the weak die, the strong live, those are the rules, talks and talks and talks about how she’s a survivor because she’s strong, raven “one save” branwen, raven “next time i won’t be so kind” branwen, raven “my semblance warns me when my loved ones are in danger and lets me reach them in time no matter where they are” branwen, who sees cinder throw a bolt of magic at her and lunges forward in desperation to protect vernal.

“she was scared when we found her! weak! no matter how much training i put her through, she never learned! she wasn’t cut out for this world—” what would it do to raven to watch a girl she loved as family die saving her?

[dark-night-star-light]

Spirit Animals: Wild Born (Reread pt. 1)

DISCLAIMER: WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR BOOKS ONE THROUGH SEVEN.

Masterpost

Chapter 1

" . . . and Conor was the third son of Fenray, Herder of Sheep" (1). Conor is actually hilarious, you guys.

There's a dark-skinned guy at Conor's ceremony, and I can't remember??? Who it is??? I don't think it's Tarik???

"Eyes closed, Devin tilted his face skyward" (8). He is literally such a drama queen.

"Whatever the taste, sampling the Nectar would officially mark the end of his childhood" (9). Aren't they??? Eleven???

*narrator voice* It was, in fact, Tarik.

Chapter 2

How did Abeke learn to shoot/hunt if women are scorned for it? Nobody in her village approved. Who taught her??? Did she teach herself? She's literally so talented.

"The Nectar tasted like unheated soup, the kind her mother used to make with crushed nuts" (19). So the Nectar doesn't necessarily taste sweet, just whatever the recipient thinks of as tasty.

"'A traveler like me hails from all corners'" (23), "'These rumors are the groans of a dam about to burst'" (23). Zerif talking in riddles to make himself seem smarter is so funny.

"Did he want to be rid of her? Would he act so eager if Soama had summoned this leopard?" (24). My. Heart.

Chapter 3

"None of the boys actually knew her" (29). Ohhhhhh yeah, you have no idea.

Lenori herself came to Meilin's ceremony??? Wow. Literally do not remember that.

"The warm fluid was bitter to her tongue - it took some effort to avoid gagging" (32). I kind of wonder if Meilin ever wondered why the Nectar was called the Nectar between now and the end of Against the Tide. Didn't she ever question it?

I did not remember the invasion being this abrupt???

"The Devourer was a legend from the past, a monster in nursery stories" (37). Do normal people think that the First Devourer War was just a myth? They don't, like, talk about it during history class or something? Huh.

I don't remember the battle being this long, either.

Chapter 4

" . . . the life of a friend outweighed some rule" (44). I forgot Rollan had friends on the street. Didn't it mention in later books that he had no friends and never trusted anybody? Maybe I'm wrong.

"'Maybe you could get creative? You know, to help stop a kid from dying?'" (45). Woah, Rollan tamp down on the passive-aggressiveness.

"Rollan decided he could stop licking Mr. Valdez's boots" (46). My guy, you stopped doing that a long time ago.

"'Actually, I'm a lost prince. If you take me back to Eura, my father will reward you'" (49). This guy really needs to stop being so passive-agressive.

"'People don't bond with insects'" (51). Why not?

"'That was quite a speech'" (51). Congrats, Rollan, you've graduated from passive-agressive to sarcastic.

I thought Rollan got his Nectar from Zerif???

Never mind, here comes Zerif.

Olvan??? Is here???

Chapter 5

"What if she had missed her chance finally to fit in?" (60). Abeke's father is psychologically abusive.

I never realized how much the Conquerors all . . . spoke the truth? Like technically, nothing Zerif said was false, it was just manipulative. Shane is the same way.

Speaking of which! Shane!

"'Spirit animals always arrive as adults'" (62). What happens if your spirit animal has the lifespan of a mayfly? It'll be dead in 0.4 seconds. Or do spirit animals have longer-than-average lifespans?

" . . . he had bashfully shown her the hint of a mark high on his chest" (63). Wow, that's pretty manipulative of Shane. Also, how did Abeke not find it suspicious that she didn't get to see the full thing?

"She lunged and stabbed hard, hoping to catch him off guard" (64). One of my pet peeves in books is when characters stop fighting to talk. Abeke using this to her advantage is so smart.

I forgot about Shane's pretend assassin. Honestly, I don't get why Abeke is so mad. Like, she demonstrated her abilities well? And, it proved she had skill in actual combat. But I guess it's like an honor thing?

Abeke! Is the first! Of the four! To summon her spirit animal into passive state! Even before Meilin, and she had Bile!

Chapter 6

Wow, Conor accepted the green cloak almost immediately. That's a bit strange, considering he never seemed to express any desire for it until now.

" . . . and he realized her shy smile was practiced" (71). Rollan being able to tell Meilin's "alternate personality" is completely fake without even saying a word to her is actually kind of iconic.

" . . . Meilin asked, speaking Common" (72). I'm guessing Common is like English.

"'Which is the lie?' Meilin asked. 'That you were in jail, or that you were there for stealing medicine?' Rollan shrugged. 'You got me. I'm actually Olvan's son. He's having me spy on you.'" (74). Rollan and Meilin enemies(?) to lovers arc, my beloved.

"It was Conor!" (78). The excessive use of exclamation points in this book is so strange.

Rollan judging people be like: you're either stupid, or not stupid. You're either rich, or not rich.

"'I never asked for my own Great Beast, but it happened, and now the Greencloaks need my help to protect the world'" (80). Am I the only one that thinks that's a flimsy justification? Conor's pretty gullible. Can't he help the Greencloaks without joining them? It's not like they'd ditch him by the side of the road.

"'That means they're using me and that makes me cautious'" (81). Exactly. It's pretty cool how a middle-grade series like this has morally gray "good guys".

"'I hear they like flowers'" (82). Ladies and gentlemen, may I present, Conor and Rollan talking about girls.

Chapter 7

"Had they discussed her in private?" (84). Meilin's brain 95% of the time: Zhong is under attack. How do I help my father? These idiots shouldn't have brought me here! I want to fight by his side! Meilin's brain the remaining 5% of the time: Did they talk behind my back about me?

"That might explain why Conor was good at it - she doubted his problem would be too much thought" (87). Oof, both Rollan and Meilin think Conor is stupid.

"Had the boys practiced? Probably" (87). Meilin is so flustered, it's funny.

"Maybe she was the one unable to receive the cues" (88). I'll say.

"Her father had always told her to keep her abilities private so she could surprise adversaries in times of need" (88). Wait, wait, wait. Does Meilin see Conor and Rollan as adversaries?

"'I didn't live in a palace'" (90). No, of course not. It was only a mansion.

"'A slow orphan ends up in jail.' 'Weren't you just in jail?'" (90). Rollan/Meilin banter is literally carrying this book, in my humble opinion.

"'We have to use you correctly . . . '" (94). Tarik, you're proving Rollan's point about the Greencloaks.

Meilin at the end of that chapter is lowkey toxic towards Jhi?

Chapter 8

So far, it's pretty clear that Abeke is the only one that regards her spirit animal as a friend. (Conor hasn't had a POV besides the summoning one yet.)

"'A dose is a dose. The amount don't matter'" (101). So a drop is the same as a liter?

"'They're trying to find a replacement for the Nectar. They try out their concoctions in secret'" (106). Shane's telling half-truths again.

Chapter 9

"Conor was very conscious of her heightened interest. Didn't she ever blink?" (110). See? He's not stupid.

"'The wolf seems to agree,' Lenori said. Briggan barked, making Conor jump" (111). My personal headcanon: Briggan hates being called "the wolf".

Ah, vague prophetic dreams, my enemy.

Seriously don't remember Conor doing the waking dream thing???

Olvan referring to the world as "the four nations" is just. So ouch. Like, oof for Stetriol. I wonder if Olvan knows about Stetriol? Probably, right?

"' . . . the Great Beasts are a strange group . . . '" (116). Wow, just gonna say that in front of three of the Four Fallen? Okay.

"'The events surrounding the Great Beasts are often dismissed as legend' . . . 'I heard about that from my nanny'" (116). LMFAO. Also, I guess the Great Beasts are kind of like gods?

"'Whether we're up against the same Devourer who leveled much of Erdas long ago . . . '" (117). Do they actually think the Devourer is immortal?

Wow, that was a lot of info-dumping. At least they saved it for the middle to not overwhelm the reader at the beginning. That was a good choice.

"Who did Rollan think he was? What kind of reward did he expect?" (119). Um, Rollan kind of actually has a point, though?

Chapter 10

" . . . Amaya, the New Lands" (123). Why is Amaya called the New Lands? It's already established that it was there during the first Devourer War, which was a long time ago, so why???

"'I want to like you too'" (123). Ouch.

Why didn't Jhi tell Meilin about the Bile bonding during the dream? Maybe the dream wasn't a real connection between Jhi and Meilin? But, if it was, couldn't Jhi have warned Meilin about the Bile bond?

"Jhi felt warm and perfect" (126). Ayyyyyy.

Chapter 11

"Who were they, and why did they leave Uraza so agitated?" (128). Can Great Beasts sense a Bile bond?

"'I know it is rare across the rest of Erdas, but in Stetriol, summoning a saltwater crocodile is no cause for astonishment . . . '" (130). Kind of want a fic of a random (non-Stetriolan) person summoning a saltwater crocodile and being shunned for it. People compare them to the Devourer and eventually they work their way up to success. (This is before the main story takes place, by the way.)

"This information was new to her, but she supposed it was all plausible" (131). I'm surprised she bought it that quickly??? I don't know, it seems like if you didn't know about the existence of Stetriol, you'd probably be skeptical . . . 

"'How awful! Your bonding . . . ' 'Occurred without any Nectar'" (132). Wow, Shane is really good at the whole half-truth thing.

Well, that was also a shit ton of info-dumping. At least it wasn't at the beginning.

I forgot the talismans could only be used by the Marked . . . 

"'What about the men who were making monsters?'" (134). Legit do not remember a single thing about this plotline. What happens to them? The substance is Bile, right?

Chapter 12

" . . . Rollan could renounce his rewards and take up the green cloak instead" (137). The deal Olvan makes with Rollan is so weird . . . shouldn't Rollan get a manor and money even if he does become a Greencloak?

So Amaya is the New Lands and Zhong is the Walled Lands. Huh. Must've completely blocked that out on my first time through.

"'Some former Greencloaks hold grudges'" (139). Why, though? Were they forcibly released?

"'Never out of shame or to win favor'" (139). If I'm not wrong, this has some reason to do with why Rollan eventually joins the Greencloaks? I don't know, may not be remembering right.

"'Go drink your Nectar!'" (142). This might be the funniest way I've ever heard someone try to insult a Greencloak.

Tarik started throwing punches???

Okay, I apparently thought that Monte and Barlow were actually Greencloaks, but apparently they're former Greencloaks. Why does Monte hate the Greencloaks, then?

Chapter 13

 "To think the man behind the counter had been one of the pair they were looking for!" (144). The exclamation point makes Conor sound so innocent.

"Barlow's laugh subsided, but his heavy shoulders kept heaving. He wiped a tear from his eye'" (145). Wow, he managed to produce a tear? That's good. 

" . . . Conor said, aware that the animals had made an impact on the two explorers" (147). Yeah, I wonder why.

"' . . . With the animals they have, they'll be formidable.' Conor couldn't help feeling a little inflated by the praise" (150). But . . . he didn't really praise the kids, he praised their animals???

Barlow has a point about Greencloak child soldiers. I don't think this problem ever gets fixed??? Like, they should stop sending kids on quests and instead train them. Or, even better, they can have the kids do the Nectar ceremonies. That way, the kids can stay in their homes, not be separated from their families, do a job that will boost that pre-teen ego, and still stay out of danger.

Chapter 14

"She . . . could not help feeling that to praise the magnificence of this wilderness would somehow diminish her and her homeland" (153). Girl, it's not a competition. 

I wonder how everyone else reacted to Meilin's sleepwalking episode in the middle of the woods. Did they even realize it happened? Also Jhi knows their bond is a Bile bond, right? So why didn't she try to warn Meilin?

"'Essix votes for Meilin'" (159). It's a good thing they had Essix endorse Meilin, because it would've been weird if they just let Meilin carry the fight without anyone supporting her stance.

How does Essix know about Meilin's skills? Is it just intuition???

I wouldn't really say Meilin is arrogant, but she is sure of her abilities. Like, she never lets overconfidence get the best of her? It's great. Overly cocky characters suck.

"No! Such doubts were poison. She had to keep her head" (161). I remember this scene so vividly, it's honestly iconic.

"Meilin knew what spots on the thigh would provide maximum discomfort . . . " (162). Yeah, get him.

" . . . she knew how to focus her blows . . . " (163). Hell, yeah.

She beat him so bad. Eleven to zero. Kind of unrealistic that he didn't even get her once, though.

Chapter 15

" . . . Rollan wondered, rising to cross to his horse" (164). When is the iconic Rollan-horse rivalry going to begin? So far, he seems to be on good terms with his horse, and it's been weeks. 

"Conor shrugged. 'If we want the talisman'" (165). He's so straightforward, it's great.

Genuinely forgot how good Rollan and Conor's friendship was in this book. Like, it was actually good before Hunted's ending ruined it.

Conor and Rollan are once again talking about Meilin behind her back, except this time Meilin could actually overhear them.

"Rollan couldn't believe this was becoming a competition. 'Look, my terrible childhood is all I've got! Don't you dare try to top it'" (167). LMFAO.

Rollan and Essix bonding moment, my beloved.

" . . . they reached a precarious stretch where the horses could not pass" (173). What did they do with them, then? Did they just leave them on top of a mountain?

Arax is actually not that bad of a Great Beast, like when he thought they came for advice, he just gave it freely, without asking for anything.

Chapter 16

"'I like the color of your cloak, Rollan'" (180). Zerif really thinks he's smarter than he is.

"'Abeke!' Meilin called . . . " (180). HOW DOES MEILIN KNOW ABEKE'S NAME??? PLOTHOLE???

"The tension between [Briggan and Uraza] made Meilin ready her quarterstaff" (180). Why is there tension??? They're friends???

Meilin assuring Conor! Bonding moment!

Jhi just made a cougar fall asleep and Meilin's reaction is "Better than nothing"??? 

"Uraza snarled, batting at [Essix] with lethal paws" (183). WHY IS URAZA FIGHTING THEM???

Seriously, how does Meilin know Abeke's name? It's never been mentioned to her.

I forgot that Shane is a way better fighter than Meilin. And Rollan. Combined.

Chapter 17

"Shane fought a Zhongese girl who was putting up surprising resistance considering how young and small she looked" (185). Shane is only a year older, though???

"Then a boy with Shane's wolverine dangling from his arm tackled Shane from behind" (187). Rollan???

*narrator voice* It was, in fact, Rollan.

Arax kept his talisman in a box??? For real???

Barlow throwing Arax off a cliff is so iconic.

"A stab in the back. The lowest blow one could deliver" (193). Abeke's sense of honor is so opposite to Meilin's (Meilin is all take whatever advantage you can get). Would've been interesting if they had used that to fuel their antagonism, somehow.

Aw, Meilin cries at Barlow's death.

Barlow and Monte giving more-than-friends energy.

"'If it can be managed, dispose of me in a green cloak'" (194). Okay, what??? Barlow spent no time even seeming to warm up to them, though??? Like I get he used to be one, but it's still weird considering his animosity toward them???

"'The trick will be getting him to the horses'" (195). Okay, so they didn't abandon the horses.

Chapter 18

"Monte had traveled with them . . . to renew his vows" (196). Again, it really feels like we went from the pair not liking the Greencloaks to immediately being chill with them???

Passive! State! Briggan!

"Meilin and Abeke were with him, wearing their green cloaks" (197). Abeke became a Greencloak immediately, too? I guess it makes sense . . . she needs their trust. Also, all the four first moment!

"Direct conversation with Meilin tended to fluster him" (198). Cinnamon roll, who?

"'I respect you three for joining . . . Especially you, Abeke'" (198). So Rollan was a-okay with Abeke in the first book, but in the second, he's not???

Also, a long paragraph like that feels so . . . off for Rollan??? I don't know how to describe it.

Chapter 19

Wombats freed Gerathon??? Don't remember this.

"As promised, it had finally been delivered to him. Years of work would culminate tonight" (200). I'm pretty sure the guy is Zerif. Did the key come from Halawir???

"They were in thrall to the presence beneath the mound" (201). Can Great Beasts control normal animals???

This guy is for sure being controlled by Gerathon's "pull" or whatever.

Oh, wait. I'm pretty sure Gerathon eats this guy.

Final thoughts and rating:

The writing was pretty good, I feel, except for some weird grammar here and there, like missing commas, but I can forgive that. The formal tone really sets you in the world, so I thought that was good. The way the worldbuilding was done is also really good, they save the majority of the info-dumps for the middle part, after the reader has a good feel for the world. Definitely a good choice. I feel like the book towed the line between emotional and logical, so that's good. Nobody acted unbearably stupid, always a plus. Also, I really like how they excluded any scenes that weren't strictly necessary, because I feel like a lot of authors nowadays feel the need to drag out their books so much???

I will say the death of Barlow plays into a trope where a character will be introduced more than halfway through only to be killed at the end, which I think is a pretty cheap way to generate emotion. I think it would've hit harder if he'd been there since the beginning and then gotten killed? Or if he'd had a stronger bond with them? Meilin knowing Abeke's name is definitely a plot hole, Barlow and Monte warmed way too easily to the Greencloaks, and Rollan definitely seemed out of character at the end. 

Rating: 8/10

[coolasakuhncumber]

2022 in review

This year was hard. It feels like there have been a couple of hard years in a row hey.

Nick died. And it was really really hard. I guess technically he died in 2021, but I got the call on Friday 7 January and I've spent a lot of the year grieving and struggling with it. I met his mum and she's fantastic. I feel sad about this a lot.

I spent a solid amount of the year thinking I had cancer. It started with a bad back that led to a heart check that led to a lung tumour, then potential thyroid cancer, and likely coeliac disease. There's still a bunch of unknowns and lots of waiting. I don't feel good in this body, I don't trust it and the future it holds for me.

My heart is failing and it's scary to think that I'm going to need a fairly serious open heart surgery in the not too distant future. I think my parents will outlive me.

For the first time since 2016 I can say that I've only had the one job this year. But I've reported to 6 different managers during that time - at one point it was 3 at the same time and that's just not a good working model. I got found suitable for a promotion in January, but I had a few disappointments along the way and the promotion was only made official in September. I've officially entered low middle-management and I'm responsible for staff and their workload. It's an opportunity I've long desired but wow is it taking some learning to be ok trusting them to do their work and resisting the urge to micro manage everything ever. I know I want to be a leader who is approachable and considered and gets stuff done and I think I know where the gaps are between who I am now and who I want to be in the future state and I'm working towards achieving that.

I also had a stint acting as the team leader and it was HARD but a great opportunity and the experience is making me better at my substantive role. I've worked hard this year and the pay off has been good. I've finally got a manager who is the type of manager I've been seeking for YEARS. We've had the best two months together but I'm starting a new job on 3 January. I have a fear this is a stupid decision but I made it months ago and the new role will give me more experience in managing people, professional relationships, and I'll be expected to be in the same city as my family for a week every month or two. I'm excited! And I figure I need to trust myself and the opportunity and if it all turns out terribly, I'll come back to the job and manager I know and love.

I've learnt a lot about patience. Of trusting in God and his perfect timing. But I get frustrated in it. It's not an easy lesson to learn.

I've put effort into making my space more my own - I reupholstered my grandmother's chairs in my own taste. I battled decision fatigue. I have visions of what this apartment might look like in the future if I don't have my housemate. At this point in time, she wants to stay with me for another 2 years or so and right now that sounds good.

I've bought more dresses, and I'm wearing them. Finally both realising and accepting I've moved up a dress size has released me into new forms of fashion. Bodies change and being proud of still being able to fit into my year 12 formal dress for a decade after buying it was vain and silly. It's ok that I don't anymore.

I love my friends. One of the harder things this year was seeing two of them (the Pemily) fall out of love and break up. Emily moved to the exact other side of the country, but Georgia moved back. Laura has returned from London. Proximity is good. More people are having children. It's both a joy and a stab in the gut every time you hear the news, see the social media announcement. My housemate remains great. Paul and Ryan make me happy.

Duc had a rough year. There were job struggles and deaths and mental health challenges. Sometimes I think I just might marry this man. Sometimes I joke about rings. We're not on the same page about a few really key things but I think we're getting there. Or we will maybe get there. Sometimes he frustrates me. We spent a 9 day holiday to Cairns and Port Stephens together and it went well. He joined my family for Christmas for the first time and met some more of my hometown friends and I'm really glad we did that. I started the year with him and intend to finish it with him too.

Jay. I love Jay. I love Jay a lot. He loves me a lot too. On the odd ocassion we have some angst but generally it is simple and it is good.

One really good thing I did this year was keep my laptop out of my bed, and mostly out of my bedroom. Strongly recommend!

I'm not sure what I want 2023 to bring me that's particularly unique. Better health? Definitely. More adventures (a trip from Perth to Broome is in the early works)? Yeah. More time with people that I love. Let's say yes to that too.

I started the year standing on the grassy area outside my house, watching the fireworks announce the new year and I'm going to end it at a wedding hopefully watching those same Lake Burley Griffin fireworks. What a fantastic way to finish the year of 2023, by celebrating love!

edit: I ended up finishing the year dancing and waving sparklers around that grassy area outside my house while we recited Julia Gillard's Misogyny speech then sang along to the Jimmy Barnes version of Auld Lang Syne and watched fireworks crest above the trees.

[agonyaster]

got the idea that ingo and dawn went home on a train in my head and once i saw @alfheimr’s ghibli train studies i knew it was a sign

companion piece about emmet and elesa here!

…

Dawn doesn’t like the Spear Pillar anymore, she decides. 

It’s cold, for one, which is a strange thing to hold against it. She never really minded the cold before; loved to spend hours frolicking around in the snow with her sister until their father dragged them inside and swaddled them in blankets to make sure the tips of their noses weren’t going to fall off. Grandfather would keep them from sneaking back out with stories, ones he probably made up on the spot, now that she thought about it.

As strange as it sounded, that cold was… warmer, in a way. Just the memory of catching the falling flakes on her tongue or making an army of snow-Bidoof outside their little house in Sandgem has a warm, fuzzy feeling gathering in her stomach, one that spreads out to the rest of her body in waves. Her grandfather would probably say it was the love in the air, warming her straight to her bones. Back then, Dawn would’ve rolled her eyes and told him to stop being such a sap. Nowadays she would give anything to hear his voice, rough and low but kind all the same. 

There is no love atop Mount Coronet. 

Perhaps there was, once, back when the Celestica people lived on this land. A temple constructed from gratitude, statues of heroes carved from worship; the sweet reverence oozed from every surface of the Temple of Sinnoh. 

There is even some awaiting it in the future, Dawn realizes, thinking of Cynthia and all the other people of Celestic Town. Even herself and Professor Rowan, with the way he looked at her— so damn proud— and put a comforting hand on her shoulder after their search. It was love, in its own way. 

But now, standing atop the peak of Mount Coronet, Dawn couldn’t find it within herself to give ‘Almighty Sinnoh’ anything. 

The air is completely still up here, but Dawn hates it more than wind. The cold seeps into her bones and locks up the joints in her fingers; whenever she moves it slices right through her Survey Corps uniform and grates her straight to her core. As she draws a breath, Dawn winces as the frigid air stabs her chest, prickly in a way that makes her want to turn her lungs inside out.

Standing on top of the world isn’t as fun as you think it is; especially when you’re standing alone. Not even her pokémon are by her side anymore. She wonders how the hero would have reacted, seeing the temple to their god in shambles like this, the statues of their partners turned to rubble. Distantly, she thinks about how she is a hero of Sinnoh now too, alongside them and Lucas.

Will she be in history books? Is she already? She wasn’t before, but none of that has happened yet, technically, so maybe? Dawn didn’t know. This time travel stuff hurt her head. 

She takes another breath. It stings less than the last one. 

Footsteps strike softly on the stone behind her and then there is someone standing by her side. 

“I apologize for the delay,” Ingo says, voice hovering in the air just a smidgen longer than it would have at sea level. “Departure is proving much more challenging than anticipated.”

Dawn gives a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s alright. We’ve waited this long, what’s a few more minutes?”

“You young people treat minutes like they’re the most valuable things in the world.” 

Dawn agrees, somewhat, but has to resist the urge to laugh at his words. He sounds like Calaba, which is a little scary because even though no one knows how old Ingo is, he’s definitely not anywhere near Calaba’s age. Maybe once they get back, they’ll learn his real age. That would be nice to know. 

“Are you not going to say goodbye as well?” Ingo asks. 

“I wouldn’t want to hold us up any longer,” she fibs.

“We’ve waited this long, what’s a few more minutes?” 

Dawn grimaces and lets her shoulders sag. “I don’t… want them to remember me like this.”

Ingo hums. “They wouldn’t mind, I think.”

“I do.”

“Oh. I see.”

Ingo doesn’t press any further. Dawn is grateful. Facing Rei and the professor was hard enough the first time around; she didn’t know if she could do it again.

“How are we to reach our destination?”

“I- uh, I’ll get it ready now.”

Dawn reaches into the satchel tied around her waist, fingers finding grip around the flute and pulling it free. 

The Azure Flute feels strange in her grasp. It’s cool to the touch, yet pulsates with an energy that makes her skin tingle. She’s only played it once before, having kept it tucked away in her satchel ever since its transformation. As childish as it sounds, something about it freaks her out.

Slowly, Dawn brings the flute to her lips and lets out an experimental puff of air. It travels through the flute, the sharp sound ringing in her ears. Dawn draws another breath and blows again as her fingers start to move on their own, tugged this way and that like a marionette on a string. Echoing sounds are strung together in a haunting melody that charges the air around her with energy. It thrums against her skin, insistent, and anticipation builds in her gut as the music calls into the void above. 

Before she knows it, Dawn is out of breath and she’s lowering the Azure Flute from her lips, tucking it into her satchel on instinct. When she opens her eyes, they burn at the sight in front of her; the stairs from before, their brightness a shining beacon leading up into the heavens and beyond. 

Wordlessly, she extends a hand to Ingo, who takes it. His grip is firm, rough skin keeping her prickling anxiety at bay.

Together, they ascend. 

Dawn doesn’t remember how many stairs they climb. It might’ve only been one, for all she knows. Her head spins as the silence presses in around her, this world above devoid of everything but her and Ingo, sitting and waiting to be judged. 

“Almighty Sinnoh,” she calls out, voice trembling the slightest bit. The title feels foreign on her tongue. Improper, almost, like it was something she stole. 

“Arceus.” 

The name is swallowed up by the void all around them, but Dawn doesn’t dare speak it again. It heard her.

She blinks, and when her eyes open again it is waiting for her. 

Sweat drips off of her brow and her stomach seizes. Her grip on Ingo’s hand tightens as her eyes itch uncomfortably, like this isn’t something she’s supposed to be seeing. It probably isn’t, in all honesty.

“Take us home.”

Waves of nausea roll over her as Dawn stares into the eyes of Arceus, which seem to pierce her very soul. This was wrong, so wrong— making demands of the creator of the universe wasn’t something someone like Dawn did. 

Arceus stares down at her before letting its eyes slide shut. It almost looks peaceful. 

Thou hast done well.

Arceus speaks directly into her mind and Dawn’s head throbs in protest. Mortal minds weren’t meant to comprehend the speech of a god, no matter if it wanted to assist or not.

Rest, my child.

The next thing she knows, Dawn is falling through empty space; wind whistling in her ears and heart thumping in her chest as she falls faster, faster.

“Do your best not to become uncoupled from me, Lady Dawn!” Ingo shouts. He’s got their elbows locked together, and through the darkness she can see his eyes glowing faintly, like dying headlights. Despite herself, Dawn giggles at the thought. 

How long they spend falling, she doesn’t know. Everything melts together, then fades away, until all Dawn knows is the blackness around her. The first sensation Dawn feels is a coolness against her cheek, the next a strange clicking sound coming from somewhere below her. She pushes herself up off of the floor, blinks the blurriness out of her eyes as she looks around.

The floor is wood, polished and waxed so thoroughly Dawn’s reflection stares back at her from it. Two long rows of seats line the room, breaking only near the ends and in front of a pair of double doors; looping handholds dangle from the ceiling, bouncing to and fro as the room moves through space; long windows break through the rich brown of the walls, revealing the dark void beyond. There are signs posted on the walls and stuck to the poles running from floor to ceiling, written out in the script of the Unown. 

“A train,” she says, a little breathless. “We’re on a train.”

Beneath her, the car jostles a little, like it was confirming her suspicions.

“Yes. A train.” Ingo sounds sure in his words, like he’s not just parroting back an unknown in an attempt to understand it. 

He’s a few feet away, stood at one of the pairs of twin doors and staring absentmindedly at his reflection in the windows set within them. His left hand rubs at his wrist where the band marking him as Lady Sneasler’s warden used to be.

“You know what a train is?” Dawn asks, rising to her feet and joining him by the doors. He barely seems to notice.

Ingo nods, still staring into the abyss. Through his reflection, Dawn can see the twinge of regret in his eyes. “I can’t believe I ever managed to forget them in the first place.”

“Well, it’s progress, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Ingo chuckles to himself and draws his gaze away from the window. “But it is incredibly dangerous for us to be standing like this! Please, Lady Dawn, take a seat.”

She does and Ingo sinks down onto the spot next to her. Beneath their feet, the train rattles, rhythmic thumping jostling her ever so slightly. Dawn squints at the sign plastered above a set of doors, but only sees meaningless words in a language she doesn’t recognize. One lost to time, or maybe one that had never been found. 

“So. Any guesses for how long we’re gonna be here?”

“I’m afraid not. We must sit and wait, it appears.”

“Yeah. Guess it’s kinda hard to put an ETA on moving through space-time.” She thinks of the cracks in reality that would spring up in an instant, and the pokémon brought with them. She hopes they made it back okay, once the distortions faded.

The silence presses in around them. Dawn thought she had grown used to silence, but she was wrong; tt was never really silent on her surveys, the rustling of grass or distant chirping of a Starly filling the void. There was no grass and certainly no Starly here. 

“I, uh, is it weird for me to be grateful, in a way? For being sent to Hisui? Like, I get my entire life uprooted and I’m sent back to a time that doesn’t even have indoor plumbing with people who distrust my every move—“ Dawn says, wringing her hands in her lap. “But I don’t… If I could go back, and had a choice to do it again or not, I think I still would.” A sharp, awkward clear of the throat, and Dawn laughs. “That’s like, a little weird, right?”

“I don’t think you should let other people tell you how to feel.” Ingo hums. “Are you truly grateful for your time there?”

“Yeah. I am. If I hadn’t been sent I wouldn’t have been able to gather all this research, o-or learn so much about the way of life in the clans and meet so many people.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t have ever known you. I wouldn’t have been able to help you.”

“You have a kind heart, Lady Dawn.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me for speaking the truth.” Ingo looks up at the ceiling, eyes squinting at the writing on the emergency hatch. “You remember your time before. You’re sure we didn’t know one another?”

“Pretty sure. I don’t even think we’re from the same region.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A few things, I guess.” Dawn shrugs. “You’ve kinda got an accent, and you mention pokémon that don’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard of. You’re a really strong trainer, too, even in a world where training and battling is unheard of and pokémon aren’t used to taking commands from people. In one where it’s normal, I’m sure you would’ve been even better. I think I would’ve heard about you if you were from Sinnoh.”

“I see. Did you seek out challengers?”

“Not really. My friends were more into that sort of thing.” Her heart sinks a little as she thinks of the two boys who rummaged through Rowan’s briefcase. “I’m not, uh, not really the best at pokémon battles.” Barry tried to get her into them, back then, but she never really got it. Turtwig never really wanted to battle anyway. Felt wrong to force him to.

Ingo’s brows raise. “I beg to differ.”

“Akari’s good at battling, then.”

His brows drop and furrow, the lines around his mouth deepening. “She still is you, Lady Dawn. That much you cannot deny.”

“Akari was a necessity.” Dawn exhales through her nose harshly. “I don’t want to have to be her anymore.”

“And I’m sure you won’t have to, but pretending that things never changed won’t help anyone. When I return to my life, my family,” Ingo’s voice catches on the word, “wherever and whoever they might be— adjustments will have to be made. The same is true for you.”

Dawn thinks of days spent in Snowpoint with her father, years ago, when her only aid to research was running around delivering it to other assistants. He promised to take her out on her first proper study, but the time for that had long passed. She couldn’t even remember how many studies she went on in Hisui. 

Her stomach clenches. “What if I don’t want things to change?”

“I’m afraid we cannot always get what we want.”

“Why not?”

“The forces which control this world… They did not build the world to accommodate humans and they do not change it to do so.”

Dawn wonders how Ingo even came to Hisui in the first place. He wasn’t brought to save it by Arceus, like she was, but he was there all the same; just another casualty of the conflicting nature of living.

“I… do you-” She bites down on her tongue, distrustful of the words that it might say. “I’m sorry, Ingo. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

Dawn startles. “Why? I lied that’s why. I lied to you, I-I said that my name was Akari and that I had amnesia like you did and it was wrong.” Her voice drops. “I tricked you into thinking there was someone else like you.”

“You are like me, Lady Dawn.”

“Not in the way you thought I was.”

“Within Hisui, you were the only one who understood, even the slightest bit.” He shakes his head slowly. “You were a frightened child, Lady Dawn. I do not blame you for your actions.”

“I still did it though.”

“That’s true, but there isn’t much we can do about it now.” Ingo twists his head to look at her, silver eyes cloudy with emotion. “Nothing but move on.”

“Yeah, that’s… Yeah.”

Silence falls over them as Dawn stares out the window, watching as the inky black slowly bleeds into something resembling the twinkling night sky. 

“I want to help you,” she says, voice steady.

Ingo shakes his head. “You’ve already done so much for me, I couldn’t possibly ask you for any more.”

“You’re not asking, Ingo, I-I want to help. I really do. You still haven’t gotten all of your memory back or met the man in white—“

“Lady Dawn, I wouldn’t wish to be a burden to you any longer. You deserve to go back to your life without worrying over me.” Ingo’s eyes burn into her, filled with so much regret that it makes Dawn sick to her stomach. 

“I’ll worry more if I don’t know what you’re up to,” she protests, the hands in her lap curling into fists. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said adjustments will have to be made? Why can’t you be one of them?”

Ingo snorts. “You’re very stubborn, aren’t you?” 

“You just learned that?”

He snorts again, but says nothing. Dawn fiddles with the end of her scarf, picking at the fraying threads. She knows she shouldn’t, she doesn’t have anyone to fix it for her anymore, but she does anyway.

“Of course you can help, Lady Dawn. I would be honored if we were to work together once more.”

She beams. 

It’s almost as if the train can feel her excitement, because it starts to speed up. The thudding of wheels passing over tracks grows faster and louder beneath her feet until the entire car is shaking around them. They’re moving faster, faster until the world outside the windows is nothing but a blur. Her hand finds Ingo’s, their fingers interlacing as she draws breath, deep and slow. He does the same.

Soon enough, the train screeches to a halt, the sound of metal against metal grating Dawn’s ears.

The world is quiet and still. Beside her, Ingo huffs out a breath.

“I believe that this is our stop, Lady Dawn.” 

He stands, gently tugging Dawn to her feet, and guides her across the car until they’re stood in front of the pair of double doors. 

“Are you ready for departure?”

Dawn’s own wild eyes stare back at her from the reflection in the window. Her hair is frizzed and her scarf is fraying, the foreign clothes of the Galaxy Team highlighted by the modernity of the train around her. She may look like a piece of history, but she was returning to her time. The right one. Maybe even bringing a little bit of history along with her, with tales of Beaufort the Dustox and clan rivalries and festivals filled with laughter and music and potato mochi. Even by bringing back the man who fell through spacetime.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

Ingo doesn’t quite smile, the corner of his mouth twitching up only the slightest bit, but it warms Dawn from the inside out anyway.

“Please stand clear of the doors,” he says, reaching forward and flicking the latch free. Dawn’s eyes fixate on the movement, on the doors slowly sliding away to reveal the other side. “And watch your step while departing.”

Together, they step forward and out into the world. Dawn can feel the cool hardness of the concrete beneath her feet, even through her sandals. It’s a feeling she’d never thought she’d miss, but it grounds her now.

Her eyes take in a quick scan of the surroundings. They’re at a proper train station, based on the board of arrival and departure times and the map of all the lines plastered on the back wall. It’s surprisingly empty, too, the only people she sees are the loose half-ring of trainers surrounding them. 

Most of them are in green uniforms, pokéballs in hand— real ones, with that shiny finish and sleek design and perfectly round buttons— standing at attention. Or they would’ve been, if they didn’t look so shocked. One of them looked ready to burst into tears, another more angry than anything else. Dawn forces herself not to shrink underneath their gazes.

There’s a tall woman standing near the center, with two coils of dark hair and a large yellow coat. She looks ready to cry too, a dangerous mixture of confusion and relief swirling around on her face. Her eyes are fixed onto Ingo, but she keeps blinking like she expects him to disappear when she opens them up again. 

But most importantly, there is a man. He stands in-line with the woman, eyes just as wide as hers, clutching a pokéball within his grasp. His posture is stiff as a board, his clothing pressed to perfection, all straight lines and sharp edges. 

He is the man in white. The one who shares Ingo’s face. 

The grip on her hand tightens and Ingo tenses, drawn taut like a fishing line. There’s something in his expression that she can’t quite read, even as Dawn searches over and over.

Then, all she can do is watch as the line snaps. Ingo’s grip in her hand goes slack and he rushes forward, pure joy blossoming on his face as he and the man in white slam into each other, collapsing into a tangle of limbs and tears and delight. 

Quietly, Dawn sends a prayer of thanks up to Arceus.

[mckiwi]

Whumptober 2022 Day 3: Hair's Breath from Death

Characters: Stephen Strange

Prompt: Impaled

Summary: Being impaled seems to be a common way to die across the multiverse

It occurred to Stephen one night, as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, that just about every Stephen Strange across the multiverse had been killed. Granted some were only temporarily, such as himself on multiple occasions, but most did not walk away from their deaths. Thanks to the actions of his Sinister variant, he was sure there were even more Stranges than even he knew of that had died. Every Strange he's ever met or heard of had been murdered unless you counted Sinister's victims as suicides. Stephen still pondered that from time to time. He had technically killed himself, after all. Would that count as suicide or murder? What would killing yourself multiple times be considered? He could never figure it out and didn't want to risk asking someone else for input. They would think he's insane. Stephen's already thought that enough himself.

He still dreams sometimes, of other universes, and he always wakes up gasping for breath as his variant takes their last. Never before. Some were quick, such as the time Thanos decapitated a variant of him. Others were prolonged, like when Thanos separated him limb by limb using the space stone or when Defender had been stabbed by the creature trying to capture America. (She had dubbed the 'other' him as the Defender variant. She had also named the Sinister and Supreme variants. He once asked her what his name would be, to which she responded, 'My Stephen').

He almost laughs as the thought came to him. Three of four variants had been impaled. Himself by Dormammu and during the possible outcomes. Defender by the creature. Sinister by the fence post. He hoped Supreme's death was painless. Having a rod or spear shoved through your torso wasn't a nice feeling, then again neither was having your lungs fill with blood. He didn't know which was worse, actually.

Christine of the 838 universe had told him all Stranges were alike. She was right, he even admitted it. What she didn't know was just how much of a truth that was. He had told her not to let anything happen to America. He had used the Darkhold knowing it would cause corruption to save America. Defender's last act was saving America. Sure, Stephen had died on his own millions of times, but dying in your variant's body was a whole new experience. On his own, he had control of his actions and emotions. He wasn't just a puppet like he was in his dreams, forced to feel the phantom pains of death and the outskirts of love, grief, and guilt. So much guilt. Even as Defender lay dying, he felt such an intense fondness for America, guilt over leaving her and hoping she would make it without him. (Part of him wondered if that was why he got attached to her so quickly). It was almost enough to overshadow the agony of having a hole seared through his chest.

The other variant that had been impaled was Sinister. The variant that he killed. He couldn't think about that much. He couldn't think about the thousands of lives that variant had perished. That wasn't him. Couldn't be him. How could anyone with his same DNA do such a thing? Maybe he did himself (himselves?) all across the multiverse a favor by killing him. It was ironic, really. Poetic in a sadistic way. Have you ever had that dream where you're falling as if you've been pushed off a tall building? That was probably me. He wasn't wrong, in the end. Stephen had even gained a third eye like him. Had been corrupted for love just like Supreme, as well.

Maybe they were all more alike than even he realized. What makes Stephen Strange… Stephen Strange? Having your career ruined? Unrequited love worth dying/killing over? Apparently being impaled? Death? Was every Stephen's life purpose just to die?

Then why was he still alive? What was the point?

Stephen closed his eyes at that and rolled over onto his side, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

[nitewrighter]

Hi Nite :) Could use some cutesy Gency fluff rn. Have a quick short or interactions in mind?

I miss them... 🥺

Here's some pre-fall stuff from when Genji was still getting used to his limbs.

----

Genji's arms thudded against the limbs of the training dummy as Mercy stood tensely by with her tablet, observing and taking notes. The impact didn’t feel quite right--he could feel the reverberation of the metal at his organic stubs on impact. He was in a gray training jumpsuit--more of a wrestling singlet, really--that left his organic arms and legs exposed. 

“You don’t have to--” Mercy cut herself off at a particularly loud thump of one of Genji’s blows landing, “You don’t have to go too fast, it’s just about maintaining blood flow and muscle movement, and building up coordination.” 

Genji didn’t respond, mostly just glad he had something to hit now. He let Mercy’s commentary dull to a quiet buzz at the periphery of his consciousness as he fell into the movement of punching and kicking. He heard an audible sigh from Mercy, recognition that he wasn’t actually listening, and just let himself fall into the motions more and more. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. None of the blows hitting right. Get it better. Get it right. How could he avenge himself against the clan and Hanzo otherwise? How could he make them pay if he was just a stupid, pathetic, bloody little science experiment--? He moved to pivot into a devastating back hand strike when a sharp pain suddenly flared along his side and he seized up with a grunt.

“Genji?!” Mercy looked up sharply from her tablet and her eyes widened.

“Nngh--” Genji’s hands went to his side as she briskly walked over and stooped a bit to where his hands were.

“How bad is it?” said Mercy.

“I wouldn’t stop if it wasn’t bad,” Genji said through gritted teeth.

“May I?” Mercy said, her eyes flicking up to him.

Genji scoffed and glanced off, shoving the shoulder strap of his jumpsuit/singlet off and letting Mercy pull it down slightly to examine his ribs.

“No bruising to indicate internal bleeding--skin irritation near the prosthetic is well within normal range...” Mercy murmured, “Where specifically does it hurt?”

Genji pointed at the bottom of his ribs with his thumb with a grunt and Mercy felt at that point for a few moments.

“Is the pain still as sharp as it was when you were moving?” Mercy asked.

The question came so easily to her but Genji felt his ears burning

“...no,” he said a bit stiffly. 

Mercy gave a sigh of relief, “Just a muscle stitch then.” 

“A muscle--?!” Genji scoffed, “No--something has to be--I don’t get stopped by cramps!” 

“Maybe not with your old body, but---” Mercy caught herself.

“There’s--there’s stuff in me now, how do we know it’s not... stabbing?” said Genji.

“If you want, we can stop for the day and I can take a closer look,” said Mercy, tucking her tablet against herself.

A low growl of a scoff rumbled in Genji’s throat and he glanced off. He didn’t want that. He was glad to be standing again, he was glad to be moving again, he didn’t want his own paranoia about all the things jammed into him to leave him bound to an infirmary bed or examination table again.

“Or I could give you something mild for the pain--?” said Mercy

“No,” Genji nearly cut her off with his answer. He didn’t want his rage to be dulled. Didn’t want anything slowing him down.

Her brow crinkled and her mouth drew to a thin line, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her when she was making that face.

“Just---” Genji made a pushing gesture at her, “Give me space. I can handle it.”

“We still need to take it easy--” Mercy started.

‘If it’s just a stitch, I can handle it!” Genji snapped. He remembered Sojiro’s voice. Breathe through it. Breathe through it. He took a few deep steady breaths. “It’s fine,” he said, the pain dulling with his breaths, “I’m fine.”

Mercy backed up a bit and Genji re-centered himself to a ready position. He gave himself one more steadying breath before he threw himself back into punching and kicking again. The stitch was still burning in his side but he ignored it as best as he could, focusing on the breath, focusing on the impact of the punch, the recovery. But he had already begun to feel the creep of exhaustion with that last pause. No, he couldn’t be tired, not yet. Did all those hours looking like an idiot in horse stance until his entire lower body was on fire mean nothing? All those early mornings sprinting around Shimada Castle, racing after Hanzo with the cold damp on his skin and his breath fogging in front of him? All that conditioning, all that work, all of his time that the clan ate up for their own ends, Hanzo had taken it all away from him. And here he was struggling to work up to a fraction of what he was previously capable of. Keep at it, keep at it, let the rage power the limbs. But even rage could only take him so far. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears as he watched his own strikes get slower, sloppier, but still he kept pushing himself. 

“Genji--” Mercy’s voice was distant with the pounding of his own heart in his ears, and the strike of his limbs against the training dummy, “Maybe you should--” But he just kept going, just kept hitting, and she quieted down. She was making that face again. He could feel her making that face, and he kept striking.

Don’t pity me. Don’t you fucking dare pity me.

That burning stitch in his side was little more than an afterthought, but the limbs were slow, heavy. His lungs were burning and he was drenched in sweat. With his prosthetics he smelled like pennies. Smelled like blood.

Metal. Stupid. Useless.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, didn’t want to know how much time had passed, when he finally slumped forward, supporting himself on a training dummy that was just as damp with his own sweat.

“Just--breathe--pushing yourself too hard could make the healing process even slower,” Mercy warned. 

“I know what I can do!” Genji said through gritted teeth. He hated the metallic ring of his own voice now.

"I know it’s frustrating, but even with state of the art prosthetics, you can't expect to get back to your original speed that fast," said Mercy.

Genji let himself drop to his hands and knees, panting.

“You have no idea how frustrating it actually is,” he snarled, not looking up from the floor.

"Your body has lost a significant amount of its original mass... it's going to be a while before your stamina returns, too," she said quietly.

Genji kept panting. She stepped away from him briefly and he looked at his own hands on the floor. He clawed his fingers, both organic and prosthetic, across the mat in frustration.

“Here,” She stooped over and held a water bottle out to him. He glared at the water bottle.

“You’re still human and humans need water,” said Mercy flatly. 

His eyes flicked up to her face and he reached out and sullenly took it. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he drank from the bottle, trying to read her expression. There was exhaustion in her eyes, there always was, but there was something in the line of her mouth now, not quite that pitying pursing, her lips nearly parting like she had something to say, and yet at the same time didn’t. She settled down to a kneeling position beside him on the mat. 

“All these... things I say... I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings. I know you’re angry. I know you feel cooped up here and you want to get out there so you can get to work stopping the people who did this to you.”

Killing. Stopping’s just a side effect of killing, Genji thought but he said nothing still panting. 

“I want you to have your body working the way you want it to just as much,” Mercy went on, “But this isn’t something you just... power through to. You’re angry--I know you’re angry--but the more you fall into that anger, the more cortisol and adrenaline your brain pumps out--the more your body believes it’s trying to survive and shunts down numerous vital functions, rather than putting its energy towards repairing itself.”

Genji was still panting but hearing it put in such technical terms caught him off-guard. The body believes it’s trying to survive...

“Just...” Mercy sighed a little, “Have a little faith. Everyone here wants you at you at full capacity as quickly as possible just as much as you do. Even if we’re all...” she shrugged a little, “Annoying and preachy about it.”

Genji snorted at that before letting himself collapse onto his side and then roll onto his back, his chest still rising and falling with a shudder of exhaustion. Mercy pressed one hand against the mat, then lowered herself, laying down flat on the ground as well, staring at the ceiling.

“...why are you on the floor?” muttered Genji.

“Seemed like the right place to be,” Mercy mused, “...there are multiple times a day I wish I could curl up on the floor, and this seemed like a good chance.”

Genji snorted again. “You’re funny,” he said glancing over at her.

Mercy glanced over at him and smiled.

Genji sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “You want to know a really stupid thing that’s pissing me off about all this?’ 

“What?” said Mercy.

“It’s... hitting me that I really liked my body. I mean, I was hot before all this.”

Mercy snorted.

“I was!” Genji insisted.

“I know!” Mercy blurted out and then caught herself, “I mean--” she cleared her throat, “Yes, it’s very jarring to have your appearance suddenly changed without your consent.”

“...so you agree I was hot,” said Genji, a bit smugly.

Mercy scoffed.

“OKay--Sorry--I’m being obnoxious. What I’m saying is... there was so much about it I took for granted, even with all the training and the conditioning the Shimada clan put me through...” he sighed, “And it’s gone now.”

“Not gone, necessarily. It’s... different. It’s changed. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own,” said Mercy, “That doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful now.”

Genji paused, then gave her an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. 

“Okay, we can work our way up to that,” said Mercy with a slight eye roll, “Just.. in my line of work you see a lot of... nastiness... so you kind of have to look for the things that give you hope. And a lot of the time that can make you come off as...” she huffed, “Completely out of it to some people. Stupid. Ignorant.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” said Genji, “Preachy, sure, but stupid?”

“Just as much of a charmer as your dossier stated,” Mercy said flatly.

Genji huffed and a long pause passed between them on the floor. Genji took stock of the exhaustion in all of his limbs and lifted his prosthetic arm up toward the ceiling, examining it the way the light hit it. “...you think I’ll be able to do what I could do before?” 

“Do you want my honest opinion?” said Mercy.

The question-as-answer made Genji tense slightly and he propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at her. “Yes...?” he said slowly.

“I think you can be even more,” she said, not looking at him, staring up at the ceiling, “I just hope who that is, is someone you like.”

[obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts]

Can we get reactions of the brothers and Undateables (Ahem Now dateables) seeing Mc being stabbed in the stomach by a high ranking demon who was trying to attack the brothers or Undateables. How'd they feel knowing Mc sacrificed their self in order to protect them? Thank you!!! Love you!!!

Thank you anon. I really mean it. I've been having a rough couple of weeks. Haven't heard that very much from anyone.

Anyways, enough mushy stuff, are they technically datables now? What qualifies as datable? Hm. We need an expert.

Wanted fluff but tbh I'm not good at it. angst because that's my life at this point. Also! I kinda changed this to MC dies whilst protecting the brother/datables. Gave me more to work with! Breaking this up into multiple parts because it's longer tho

Lucifer

This would be one of those rare statistics.

A one in a (enter some absurd number that doesn't even exist yet) chance.

Lucifer knows his surrondings. War taught him that, so he's observant and can see through most facades.

But not all.

He doesn't notice the demon dressed up as a store clerk. Doesn't see anything out of the ordinary amongst the tools that line the check-out counter and the outer pockets of his apron.

Not until he's lunging at him with a pair of scissors, obviously enchanted by the light orange glow emitting from the object.

He should have been able to step back, to pull you with him. Or to at least push you down and out of the way.

Either you're too fast or he's too slow.

You end up with scissors in the neck, jamming so deep that the point comes through the other side.

Lucifer biggest fault lies in his reaction. He immediately kills the demon in some absurdly painful way, before returning to your side.

He doesn't know what to do. Does he pull the object out? He tries, but it doesn't budge. Lucifer doesn't have much time to think for another solution because you're eyes are already starting to gloss over and the blood bubbling from your throat is suffocating you.

You die on a Devildom department store floor.

Lucifer blames himself. He doesn't understand why his attacker would use such a simple weapon if he was the original target.

He also doesn't understand why you'd try to protect him, a demon who'd most likely survive.

Never truly recovers, blaming himself for everything that's happened.

Mammon

Mammon is a dumb dumb. He's pissed off a lot of people during his long life.

Specifically witches.

So it's no suprise that one of them would be spiteful enough to attempt revenge.

The moment he even spots someone he owes money to, he'll probably try to shuffle you away and try to hide the both of you.

Might even jokingly push you behind because he knows you're not the one they're targeting.

Which is his biggest fault.

Because if he would have just hid you, gotten you to saftey instead of joking around, you would be here withering on the floor, suffering from the effects of a spell meant for him.

He'll fly into a rage immediately, showing off his rarely used second-born strength. It's a terrifying display, and despite the power of the witch, she isn't strong enough.

Your death is slow. He can't even touch you without you screaming, so the two of you sit alone, him just out of reach.

He's already alerted the other's by the time you finally begin to actually slip, but no one gets there in time. You die caressed only by the concrete pavement.

Mammon is never the same again. He swears off witches, and might even go on a revenge streak. Any witch he's ever owed money to, any witch who could have possibly helped your killer locate him, is reduced to nothing.

Everyday his heart breaks because he knows, deep down, he would have survived the attack.

Leviathan

You told him going into one of those cursed games again was a stupid idea. That putting yourself in a situation where you could actually die wasn't worth the experience of playing such a game.

He ignored you and you followed against your better judgement.

Leviathan knows he should have listened. Really. He knows, and he wants to tell you that, but you just aren't waking up to hear it.

Somehow during the last boss battle, your health went low (which was naturally lower than his to begin with), and suddenly all attacks were directed towards you.

Leviathan was quick to distract the opposition, but he was struggling too, finding it hard to balance both the boss and fetch you some sort of potion or salve or something.

He took a hard hit, getting knocked back, and before the boss could do any hard damage, you stepped in.

It was like watching one of those slow-motion moments on TV. He tried to grab you, planned on tossing you aside, but you were just out of reach.

And then you were gone.

He beats the game, fueled only by heartbreak.

His brothers find him alone sometimes after. He's sitting in his room sobbing, fixated on the main menu of the game, where a little gravestone and a familiar ghostly sprite floats.

Satan

You and Satan fight occasionally.

Most couples do. It's expected.

But your fights tend to spiral out of control.

He's the avatar of wrath, and whilst he handles his anger well with people, it becomes a completely different story with a romantic partner.

Your dispute it loud, angry, and ends with you leaving to get as drunk as possible in some Devildom bar.

Sure, you know the liquor around here is strong enough to melt rubber, but you just want to forget the way Satan yelled at you.

Your phone is blowing up by the time you're on your second drink, and the demon next to you is already laying it on thick

He's annoying, but you let him go. Demons don't shut up even if you tell them to.

But then Satan gets there. He starts trying to talk to you, a lot calmer then before, but still remaining strong in his opinion.

You ignore him, and then the guy next to you starts jumping into the conversation, telling Satan to back off. He's obviously drunk off his ass, so neither of you acknowledge him.

Not until he pulls out a knife, taking it upon himself to put an end to "the guy bothering you."

You don't even have to think. You just leap in between the two, only flinching when the blade is pulled out.

Bleeding out isn't a pretty way to go. Especially not with some demon blade, obviously created to be more deadly then any human weapon.

Satan doesn't have enough time to save you. Not enough resources. All he has is rage.

He can't even stay by your side, too focused on making your killer suffer in a million ways before he kills him off.

He'll blame himself, and everyone else will too.

[rhysismydaddy]

Casual Ruin Pt. 3 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series.

Part 1 | Part 2

God help yall this shit was a rollercoaster to write

________________________________________________

~Elain~

For a second, no one breathes, let alone moves.

Azriel’s hands are steady as he grips the gun, body lined with tension, eyes so cold I shiver. The barrel’s close enough that if I leaned forward an inch, it’d brush my forehead.

The man next to him holds a cigarette halfway to his mouth, looking at me like he’s never seen a woman before and has absolutely no idea what to do. 

And me? I’m frozen in place, horror rushing through my veins and mixing with the shock to create a nauseating cocktail I’m not sure I’ll survive.

It’s the brutalized man in the chair slumping over and hitting the floor with a loud thud that finally snaps us out of our momentary haze.

Azriel blinks and throws the gun to the side so hard it makes a dent in the wall, the stranger drops his cigarette and reaches for me, and I sprint like my fucking life depends on it. Because at this point, I’m pretty sure it might.

What the hell did I walk into? 

I race up the stairs toward the garage, where less than a minute ago, I’d heard Azriel’s voice and gone to surprise him. By the look on his face when he turned around, I’d at least succeeded in that.

I can practically feel the man behind me, can tell he’s reaching a hand out to grab me.

I’ve never been a violent person in my life, but with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me, I don’t even question the urge to use the wine bottle in my hands as a weapon.

It breaks over the man’s head, but unlike in the movies, he doesn’t go down immediately. However, he does lose his balance enough that with a firm shove to his chest, he goes crashing back down to the hellhole I’m running from.

I make it to the garage and slam the door to the basement closed, locking it for good measure. Then I drag the heavy workbench next to the line of pristine cars over in front of it for even better measure. 

I refuse to let myself stop and think, because I’m pretty sure if I do, I’ll break down into a pool of tears and never get up. I’m running on nothing but adrenaline, and I know I’ll crash soon, but I force myself to keep going.

For a moment, I’m tempted to steal one of the cars to get away, but the sound of angry Italian shouts behind the locked door makes me hesitant to waste any more time.

I also definitely don’t have time to call the cab driver that dropped me off and beg him to come back.

The fear and terror don’t give me time to doubt myself as I take my heels off, take off up the driveway, and pray I’m fast enough to escape the devil on my trail.

~Azriel~

“Get that goddamn door open,” I shout at Luca, who’s dripping wine all over the place and has a gash on his forehead from where little Elain Archeron shoved him down the stairs.

I almost fucking shot her in the head. Her. 

Dolcezza mia. The girl I’m stupidly obsessed with. The one who’s always quick to smile--the same one who sighs when I kiss her and lights up when I walk into the room.

I almost shot her between those beautiful brown eyes, almost snuffed them out forever.

I run a hand over my face, listening to the sound of Luca throwing himself into the door repeatedly. “I’m trying, boss, but I think she pulled something in front of the door.”

Smart.

Fucking annoying as hell, but smart.

If I wasn’t so damn pissed at myself for not locking the basement door behind me and allowing her to find us down here, I’d be mildly impressed. 

Two of the most dangerous men in Italy, trapped in the basement like idiots. 

I pull up the app to track her phone--which was originally for her safety, not because I’m a complete stalker--and see that she’s on foot, going behind the houses instead of down the road. She probably thinks I’ll drive by her while she gets away right under my nose.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sending out a text to all my neighbors to tell them not to shoot the beautiful young woman trespassing through their properties. She has no idea the people around us have security systems better than the President’s. “Luca!”

“Working on it,” he grunts back.

“If that shit isn’t open in the next twenty seconds, you’re going in the incinerator after this asshole,” I warn, nudging the dead body on the floor with a boot.

The threat must work, because a second later, there’s a loud bang and the telltale sound of the workbench from my garage toppling over. “Got it!”

I storm up the stairs and tell him, “Run interference with the neighbors and local police. Anyone talks-”

“Got it,” he interrupts, grabbing his phone to start threatening people.

Pulling up the app again, I track the path she’s on, curse when I see she’s headed to the bus station about a mile from here, and take off after her.

Technically, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she got away. She’d probably go to the police and tell them what she saw, not knowing that Marco, the deputy on duty, has been on my payroll since the day he passed the police entrance exam.

Having done her civic duty, she’d probably try to recover from the trauma of what she saw, eventually finish her classes and move on, and leave. Forgetting all about me in the process.

Technically, for her, this option would not be the worst thing in the world.

But in my head, it feels worse than being stabbed. In my head, there isn’t a question about it. 

I’m going after her. 

There’s this weird, itchy feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before as I run and run and try not to think about the look on her face as she saw the body fall to the floor.

I realize the feeling in my chest as panic, something I haven’t felt since I was a teenager getting booked for stealing my first car.

She knows.

She knows, and the look on her face... she looked at me like I’m a monster. 

And fuck, maybe that’s true. Maybe I am beyond saving.

But having her look at me, and having her take away the easy smiles and bright eyes I’d grown strangely accustomed to... it feels like being robbed.

And it makes me panic.

So I’ll chase her, and catch her, and do whatever I have to do to get her back. 

Because I need her, and damn if I’m going at this alone. 

After a surprising amount of time, I see the thin outline of her off in the distance, sprinting like the devil himself is chasing her. 

I take a deep breath and try to stay quiet, but it’s hopeless. Like she’s the one with the tracker on me, she can tell the second I’m close. I can see it from the way her shoulders go stiff and her pace increases.

“Elain!” 

I call out again for her to stop, because I don’t want to tackle her and risk hurting her. She ignores me and keeps running, turning behind the coroner of one of my dealer’s house. 

That sticky, awful, panicky feeling in my chest grows as she disappears from sight, and without thinking, I follow.

Which, if I had been thinking, I never would’ve done, because shit like this leaves you open to attack. 

Which reminds me: I’ve now broken all three rules for this woman, because I don’t have a single weapon on me to defend us if something happens.

I hit the ground hard enough the wind rushes out of me and my stupid brain rattles around in my stupid skull. 

Blinking through the blur, I look up to find Elain standing over me with an empty metal trashcan raised like a bat, ready to strike again. 

I need to explain, need to talk to her, but all I can seem to say is her name.

“Elain,” I croak, trying to force air down my lungs.

As my vision clears, I notice she’s crying, beautiful face streaked with tears and dirt. 

She pauses and looks at me, like the sight of me knocked on my ass hurts her just as much as it does me, then shakes her head to clear it. 

She throws the trash can at me and turns to flee, but I know I can’t let her go, at least not like this. Grabbing her ankle, I yank her down to me, making sure she lands on me instead of the ground. 

She screams, the sound scraping away another layer of the trust we’d built, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate in my life. Elain flails around, but I use my weight to pin her, trying not to hurt her. 

She has to let me explain. She has to.

I hate what I’m about to do, but the only other option I have is making her pass out the old fashion way, which I know I could never bring myself to do.

The second the needle goes into her neck, she goes stiff underneath me, looking at me with wide, panicked eyes. 

“You drugged me,” she sobs, the betrayal in her voice making my chest hurt.

I brush the hair off her face, press my forehead to hers, and start telling her things I haven’t told another living soul.

I’ll never hurt you.

I’m sorry.

~Elain~

Am I dead?

Why does it feel like I got hit by a bus?

Where am I? 

These three questions rattle around in my brain at the same time, all demanding answers, as soon as I open my eyes. 

And the weird part is... I don’t have any.

I have no idea if I’m alive or dead, but the headache I have that seems permanently settled behind my eyes points to the latter.

I blink the haze in my brain away and realize I’m at my house in bed, but my extend of knowledge seems to stop there. 

There’s a voice in my head whispering something, but it’s too quiet for me to understand what she’s saying. All I know is that I feel like I need to do something, need to get out of here. 

I rub my sore eyes and see there’s a note on the bedside table, written in precise, calm handwriting I recognize better than my own. 

Come downstairs. 

He’s here? I thought I went to his house, not the other way around.

The blinds are closed, but when I make my way to the window and peak out, I see a dark night sky, the moon reflecting off the water and making everything seen calm.  

What the hell happened to me?

I start to leave the room, intent on going downstairs and asking Azriel that very question. 

Except as I’m passing by my closet, I see something. 

Something small and so inconsequential, I almost don’t think anything about it.

Like I’m in a dream, I feel myself walk over to the corner of the room. I feel my knees hit the floor, see my finger extend to the floor and touch the tiny drop of liquid that caught my eye.

I pull back and look, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see that it’s blood.

The floors are dark enough I shouldn’t have been able to see it from so far away, but it’s like a part of me was looking for it. 

And that’s when it comes back to me.

Coming to surprise him, seeing the door in his garage, going downstairs... I press a hand to my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the tidal wave of nausea washing over me. 

I remember seeing the blood first and wondering if someone was hurt, then coming further into the room to find myself in the middle of a nightmare. If I wasn’t so strangely sure it had been real, I would think it was a horror movie.

The man strapped down had been so brutalized, I doubt I would’ve recognized him even if I’d known him my whole life.

I remember running without a thought more, giving into the fight or flight impulse to get the hell out of there. 

I remember hitting Azriel, seeing him fall to the ground and looking up at me with those deep, wounded eyes that will haunt me more than the torture he inflicted on that poor man. 

Eyes that told me everything and nothing at the same time.

I remember looking into those eyes and crying at the pain in them that was surely reflected in my own. 

And then nothing. 

Why don’t I remember? How did I get back here?

I’m sorry. 

I finally recall that last whispered promise, and if I hadn’t already been sitting on the floor, I would’ve fallen to my knees as I realize what happened.

He drugged me.

Azriel, the same man who slow-danced with me in an empty restaurant and drove me along the coast and held me in his sleep, drugged me.

And he’s downstairs.

I start to hyperventilate, because I don’t know what to do or what he’s planning to do. Why is he still here?

What am I going to do? Should I call the cops?

I realize I don’t have my phone, probably a countermeasure on his part. 

I also realize there’s no way for me to run. I remember how fast he’d caught me, how easy it had been for him to render me useless. 

There’s no escaping him. Not if he’s already down there waiting, evil plan cooking in his mind.

I have no other option, unless I want to stay in this room for the rest of my life.

So with confidence I don’t feel, I walk downstairs. 

I find him sitting at my breakfast table, leaning back casually and sipping a cup of coffee despite the late hour. 

The moonlight clings to him like it loves him, playing off of his sharp cheekbones and illuminating his features. His face is carefully blank, but there’s a flicker of something as he looks at me, something that seems almost like relief. 

He’s calm and collected and everything I’m not, and it pisses me off. My world’s on fire, yet he’s sitting here like nothing’s wrong? And he’s drinking my coffee?

I stomp over to grab the stolen drink, then sit across from him and cross my arms. 

And wait.

Because I sure as hell am not talking first. 

He stayed because he has something to say. I don’t have anything to say to him. 

For a long time, we just stare at each other, because he’s apparently playing by the same rules. 

Then he accepts his defeat, sighs, and asks, “Why did you come to my house last night?”

I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and try to stop myself from throwing the coffee in his face. 

Because he said that almost like an accusation. 

Like the problem is that I came over unannounced, not that he was torturing someone. 

“I’m not justifying that with a response,” I eventually tell him.

He gives me a hard look. “Answer the question.”

Something about the entirely male way he demanded that, like he expects a response immediately, makes me tilt my head and ask so sweetly I almost choke, “Why? Are you going to torture me if I don’t?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, showing the first sign of imperfection I’ve ever seen from him. “What you saw-”

“Was horrifying, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

He acts like I didn’t even speak. “-was something I meant to keep private from you.”

I don’t tell him that’s pretty fucking obvious at this point. 

Instead I ask, “Why?” 

I’m not sure why I want to know, but it suddenly feels important. 

He doesn’t takes his eyes off of me as he says, “Because you’re you. You shine so brightly it should be illegal, and you look at the world like it isn’t a terrible place. I didn’t want to take that from you.”

My throat feels uncomfortably tight all the sudden, but I clear it and say, “Well, you did.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks down. “I know. If I could go back and walk away, I would. Shit, I told myself I would more times than I can count. But I just... couldn’t. And I couldn’t tell you either. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how, Elain.”

The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart finally start beating again, but I still call him on his lie. “That isn’t why you never told me. You never told me because you knew I’d hate you the second you did.”

“Maybe,” he admits, looking back up at me. “But now you know, and I’m glad you do. You know everything now.”

It’s my turn to look down, because while I’d wanted to know the real him, I’d never imagined I’d find something like this. 

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything, because you haven’t explained anything.”

He tilts his head. “What needs explaining?”

I ask the obvious question. “Who do you work for?”

“Myself.”

Once again, I don’t feel like justifying that with a response. He still isn’t saying anything that explains what I saw or why he’d do that to someone. 

If he isn’t going to say anything meaningful, I’m not having this conversation.

Eventually, he seems to realize this. Because he says, “I’m Capo of the Sicilian Outfit of the Cosa Nostra, Elain.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t know how to feel, other than confused and angry.

“Any other questions?”

“Why did you drug me?”

If he just wanted to talk, he could’ve dragged me back to his place or maybe just say that. Not chase me down like a rapid animal.

“You were panicked, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I needed time to explain, needed to tell you this was never the plan.”

There’s something else there, and I narrow my eyes in a silent demand for him to continue.

Azriel sighs and admits, “My neighbors are business associates-” aka fellow criminals, “and I didn’t want them to hear you yelling and come to... investigate-” aka kill me, “or watch me get knocked unconscious by a twenty-four year old woman with a trash can.”

I give him a smug smile, more than ready to give him a repeat of that show, and try to decide what else to ask. 

But before I get the chance, he says, “I don’t see why this changes anything.”

My mouth falls open.

He doesn’t see- is he serious? “You’re joking.”

“I’m not known for my humor.”

I’m still stunned into silence, so he tilts his head and asks, “Why does it matter? Why does what I do make me a different person?”

When I don’t answer, he says, “It doesn’t. Nothing I do will ever come near you. You won’t ever have to see it again. I promise.” 

“It’s not about seeing it! It’s about knowing what you do when we’re not together. You kiss me goodbye, then go home and... there is absolutely no way I can go back to what we were doing before. You killed someone, Azriel.”

He straightens his cufflinks and shoots back, “He deserved it, Elain.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“First off, murder is illegal. So is torture, which from the way that man looked, you’d definitely been inflicting on him. Not only is it illegal, it’s wrong! He was an innocent human being-”

“He wasn’t innocent.”

I keep going. “You aren’t judge, jury, and executioner! You-”

He’s on me before I can finish, sliding a hand over my mouth and leaning over my chair. 

God, the man is fast. Has he always been that fast, or have I just never noticed?

“Let me explain something to you, Elain. On this island, I am. I decide who’s guilty, which he confessed to being. I decide the punishment, which was a bullet to the brain. I’m the executioner, and I pull the trigger myself, because I’m not a fucking coward.”

I fight his hold, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t even budge. 

“I play by different rules, bellissima. Just because you’ve never been exposed to them, or my world, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always existed. I’m the judge, jury, executioner, and the goddamn king.”

A shiver goes down my spine at his words. 

He pushes my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And it doesn’t matter.”

I shake my head, bite his finger, push at his chest. But it doesn’t do any good.

“It doesn’t matter, because like I said, we live in two different worlds. I’d never let mine impact yours.”

I want to tell him that isn’t the problem, but his hand is still on my mouth. 

“Have you even asked yourself why you’re not afraid?” he asks out of the blue, surprising me. 

I stare blankly at him, no longer fighting, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“You’re scared of what I do, but you aren’t scared of me. Not really. If you were, you never would’ve come down those stairs.”

That’s why he looked relieved, I realize. He was worried I’d be scared of him.

Everything he’s saying makes sense, which makes no sense at all. 

Because if he’s right, and he certainly seems to think he is, it begs the question... why aren’t I scared of him?

He seems to see my ask myself that, because he answers it a second later.

Eyes growing softer, he murmurs, “It’s because you know I’d never hurt you, nor would I let anyone else.”

I remember him whispering that right before I passed out. I’ll never hurt you. 

He comes so close I can see the individual flecks of green in his dark hazel eyes. “I may do terrible things, and I’d do terrible things for you, Elain, but I’d never do them to you.”

“So you aren’t afraid. Just angry,” he concludes. Then he looks at me like he did the other day in the sea behind his house, right before he called me his. “Do you know why you’re angry, Elain?”

Currently, it’s because he’s explaining my emotions to me, which has to be the most male, obnoxious thing that’s ever happened in all of history.

But I have a feeling that isn’t what he’s talking about.

And I have another feeling that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

I take another glance at the look in his eyes and realize what he means, starting to fight again. I push at his chest and hands and try to get him to not say the words I know he’s going to. 

It doesn’t work. 

“You’re upset,” he says a moment later, slow and sure like always, “because I lied to you. You feel betrayed, like you don’t know me. But that isn’t why you’re angry.”

One hand on my face, the other in my hair, he holds me perfectly still as he whispers, “You’re angry because you were falling for me.”

I press my eyes closed, trying not to hear the words he’s saying as if that’ll make them any less true. 

But it doesn’t, because they are true. 

Every easy smile, midnight whisper, and lingering kiss he’s given me in the past month has given him a permanent place in my heart, and it hurts to have that all feel like a lie.

It hurts to look at him and not know if I recognize the person holding me.

A sob escapes me, which seems to confirm what he said, and he takes his hand off my mouth to wipe away a tear. 

His brow comes to rest against mine, and I breathe him in, unable to stop myself. 

There’s a war happening inside me, and it distracts me enough I don’t stop him from pulling me closer.

My heart plays me a montage of the past month, showing me countless moments where I’d been so positive I’d found paradise, so positive I’d found someone I could trust completely. It tells me Azriel has always felt like home, like something so inexplicably right I don’t even know how to describe it.

But my brain reminds me the hands cupping my cheeks softly are covered in blood and gunsmoke and victims’ tears. It tells me I’ve never really known the man I’m currently begging myself not to have feelings for. 

The battle inside of me rages on, and I cry harder, not even knowing who I want to win.

It only gets harder to choose as he murmurs, “Ance io mi sto innamorando di te.”

I’m falling for you, too.

I don’t know what to do or feel or think, and I’m so helplessly confused it makes me want to scream. 

Yet even though I’m confused, something about this makes sense. Something about knowing what he really does for a living makes everything in my head just click.

The way he’d redirect the conversation whenever I asked about his job. The way I’d always suspected him of hiding something about himself from me. The way every movement he’s ever made with me has been lined with restraint.

He could hurt me, has had the opportunity for months, but he never has. He’s always been careful with me, has always held and looked at me like I’m something precious to him.

My brain starts shifting to his side of the argument, and I can feel my morality ripping to shreds under his hands.

Before I can think, I shove him away, getting to my feet to point at the door. “Get out. You lied to me. You’re a murderer. A monster.”

Feelings or not, I know I can’t do this. I can’t just ignore what I saw, what he’ll continue to do. So he needs to leave.

He doesn’t.

Azriel just leans against the kitchen island counter and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as he watches me for a long moment. 

“Maybe I am,” he says eventually around a mouthful of smoke. “But just because I’m a monster, Elain, doesn’t mean I can’t give you what we both know you need. Nothing has to change.”

It already has.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“No?”

“No.”

He prowls toward me, the intent shining so clear in his eyes I take a step back for every one he takes forward. My back hits a wall, and he traps me between it and himself, caging me in with strong arms.

The line between right and wrong, good and evil, seems to blur as he gets closer and closer, and by the time we’re sharing air, I don’t know which way is up. All I know is him.

He takes a deep inhale of his cigarette, tips my head back with his thumb, and then breathes the smoke into my mouth. 

It should be disgusting, considering I don’t smoke and make it a point to avoid cancer-causing products in general. 

It should be. But it isn’t.

It’s the opposite of disgusting. 

There’s a buzz in my veins that has nothing to do with the nicotine, and I realize too late that he’s the vice I can’t quit. 

I’m too far gone, too addicted already.

He pulls back slightly, tucking the still-burning cigarette behind his ear. His eyes burn with intensity, and his dark hair and shoulders are surrounded by the smoke clinging to his shoulders like a shadow. 

He looks like the villain of a movie I never even knew I wanted to watch, and it physically pains me to have him this close and not be touching him, so I put my hands on his chest, fingers fisting in the expensive material of his suit.

His are on the wall by my head, bracing himself as he leans in and slowly licks a line across my lower lip, like he’s tasting me. 

My want for him is a tangible thing, and I have to ask myself if he’s right. Does it matter what he does, when he makes me feel like no one else ever has? Do I care enough to stay away from him?

“You don’t need me?” he asks again, so close his lips brush against mine.

I shake my head, even though I know it isn’t the truth. I do need him, and that’s why this hurts so damn bad. Why this betrayal cuts so deep.

Even though we’re so close he’s nothing but a blur, I can feel his eyes on me, burning a hole through me. 

And then he says something that changes everything. 

“Well, I need you,” he whispers, so softly it breaks my heart.

I’m lost.

I’m so goddamn lost in him, I forget everything we were talking about, forget everything he’s done. 

My knees go weak, and I cling to him, pulling him into me as I slip down the wall.

His lips crash against mine, and I know instantly that this is him. This is all of him. I finally know exactly who he is, and he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s probably our hundredth kiss, but it feels like the first, and I’m drunk on it, drunk on him.

Hands in my hair, he kisses me like he wasn’t lying--like he needs me. 

My hands pull tighter, until there’s not an inch between us, and he makes a low sound in his throat. His are on my waist, gripping me tightly and telling me he wants this just as much as I do.

The restraint from before is all but gone, and I tremble at how much power is in his grasp, how small and fragile it makes me feel in comparison. 

My willpower crumples further, like a napkin in his fist, as his tongue teases mine, making me chase him for more.

Azriel pulls my lower lip between his teeth, pulling it between us as he draws back. It’ll be bruised tomorrow, but a sick part of me likes that he’s leaving his mark on me.

“Say it,” he say roughly, voice deep and scratchy with lust.

I don’t get a change to say it, or anything else, before he’s kissing me again, running his hands up my back and into my hair.

“Say it,” he demands again.

Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought, because I know what he wants but stay silent, refusing to give it to him.

Because I can’t.

Everything he said tonight makes sense, but I just... can’t.

He kisses me again, a lingering kiss that makes my chest ache, and almost pleads, “Say it, Elain. Say it doesn’t matter. Say you need me.”

The air grows thick as I stay silent, because it’s response enough.

His eyes narrow, and even though everything inside me begs me to, I don’t stop him as he steps away. 

“Only two more months here, and you want to spend them lying to yourself?”

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’m leaving so soon, but I don’t let myself get distracted. “I’m not lying to anyone.”

Except it feels like I am.

A smile pulls on his lips, but it isn’t friendly. “You’re fucking lying, and you know it. You know it doesn’t matter, you just can’t admit it, because then you’d be like me.”

Heart pounding, I shake my head, but he keeps going. “Fucking a monster would be condoning the devil’s work, right?”

He takes a step in, catching my wrists as I try to push him back, pinning them above my head, and laughing. 

“You saying you don’t want me is the most pathetic lie I’ve ever heard, carro. ”

“Azriel-”

Mouth next to my ear, he growls, “You’re really telling me if I slip my hand between your pretty thighs, I won’t find you wet and ready for me?”

I push against his hands and look away, all the confirmation he needs. 

He tsks, feigning disappointment. 

I close my eyes and fight my response to him with everything I have. I try to tell myself it matters, that what he does disgusts me, but it doesn’t sound believable to even myself at this point.

“I could prove it to you, make you come right here and now, but I don’t think I will.”

I’m breathing heavily, two seconds from passing out at the intensity and violence in his voice. 

“I think the next time I fuck you, Elain, you’re going to have to tell me you need me just as much as I need you. You’re going to tell me you want me, and you’re going to beg me for more.” He licks up the side of my neck, and I press my lips together to hold in the moan that wants to escape. “You’re going to tell the goddamn truth, and you’re going to fucking apologize for lying to me in the first place.”

I glare at him, silently conveying that that will never happen. He lied to me. I’m not apologizing for shit.

He sees that and everything else in my gaze, and he shakes his head slowly. 

“I’ll get your confession, Elain,” he promises, going to the door and almost ripping it off its hinges as he opens it. “I always do.”

___________________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @bamchickawowow @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nahthanks @highqueenofelfhame @autophobiax @rowaelinismyotp @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @loosingdreams @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod @full-tilt-diva @biggestwingspan-az @bookstantrash @mari-highladyof-feels @pilesofriles @teddytdr

[moonlit-jeno]

secrets | n.jm

genre/ warnings: vampire au, explicit sexual content, angst, way too much blood/ blood drinking, b i t i n g, character death (kind of), references to drugs, religion

word count: 9.5k

summary:

“I’m not scared.”

“No?” The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

notes: big thanks to @jaemallow for pushing the jaemin agenda and helping to keep me sane

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Mark grumbles at you, throwing an agitated glance over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and slow down even more just to spite him. “Dude, my dad’s going to kill me.” “He’ll be fine. Murder’s against the word of God, y’know.” You speed up despite your words, laughing at the way Mark glares at you. 

There’s a crack in the sidewalk that he trips over and you laugh good naturedly. The street leading up to the church is in less than optimal shape, littered with cracks in the sidewalk and missing chunks of cement. Mark’s dad had tried to raise money to fix the street, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Mark starts walking slower all of a sudden and you grumble, glaring at him when he grabs your wrist to yank you backwards. You’re about to ask what his problem is when you see the three figures at the end of the road, moving closer towards you two.

“You’re kidding me.” They hear it, they must, with their superhuman senses. It only makes them smile brighter. You glance at Mark. “Wanna turn around?”

“Too late.” Mark breathes, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes. You look away from him to find the three vampires standing directly in front of you, blocking your way.

A groan leaves you and you cross your arms, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Can we help you?”

The ringleader of the bunch, Jaemin, smiles. “Well, since you’re offering, I suppose I am feeling a little hungry.”

The church is only one block down but if they don’t want to let you pass, you’re not going to get there. Mark shifts nervously next to you, shaking his head when you open your mouth to make a remark. That doesn’t stop you from saying it. “You realize that just because you’re from the 1200’s doesn’t mean that you have to talk like you’re from the 1200’s.”

“I resent that.” Jaemin frowns, clutching his hands to his chest likes he’s been stabbed. “I was born in 1706. It’s almost like you don’t care about me at all.”

“Is it? Must be because I don’t.” The other two vampires are silent, though one of them- Jeno- watches with amusement. The other one is unfamiliar and looks like he’s trying to figure out to pair you with white or red wine. You shudder and turn your attention to Jeno. “Nice cross. I thought shit like that burned your skin? You know, because you’re a demon and all that.”

Jeno’s eyes smile with him and it’s hard to remember that he’s a monster. He brushes his thumb against the small mark under his eye, shrugging. “Nah, only the blessed ones. Or, y’know, the silver ones. But this one? I just wanted to piss off the church daddy who told me that I deserved to rot in worse places than the sewer.“

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Church daddy?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Church daddy, father, same thing.” A pause. “Hey, Mark, isn’t that your dad?”

Mark avoids eye contact and nods. “Yeah, but I like, I don’t like, speak for him, y’know?” He laughs nervously.

“You don’t have to.” That’s the one you don’t recognize, glaring at Mark. “We can tell it’s what you’re thinking. You don’t even have the decency to look at us?”

“And who are you? Their vampire bitch or something?” You snap to Mark’s defense, not wanting the vampires to prey on Mark’s nerves.

The boy lunges like he’s going to attack you but Jeno grabs him by the neck. Jaemin laughs. “Careful princess, that hits a little too close to home for our little Renjun over here.” To clarify, he leans a little closer and lowers his voice. Not like it matters, the other two can hear him just fine. “Jeno got carried away while feeding the other day and turned him.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and this time you don’t have a witty comeback. Vampires are monsters, yes, but they have laws. And it is very, very illegal to turn a human. “That’s-”

“Against the law?” Jeno finishes. “Yeah. It was an accident though, plus he’s from out of town! So I can’t technically get in trouble.”

“Technically.” You mock, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, we’ve got places to be so if we could speed this conversation up?”

Jaemin pouts. “So soon? You’re already late for church, why even bother going?”

You stand your ground. “Good bye, Jaemin. Make sure you do a better job of training your new puppy.” Renjun snarls at you.

“What, like how you trained your puppy?” Jaemin nods over at Mark and the boys face turns red. “Bye, y/n, Mark. I’d ask you to say hello to God for me but he doesn’t exist!”

He walks off with that as a goodbye, Renjun and Jeno on his heels. Jeno at least has the decency to smile at you and tell you to have a good rest of your day.

They’re right about one thing: going to church when you‘re already late sucks. A few people glance back at you and Mark when you sneak in, sitting in the last row. You spot your parents sitting in the front row along with Mark’s brother. Luckily none of them notice you slipping in, so they won’t know just how late you were.

Mark seems on edge and you pat his knee, frowning at how violently he flinches. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking if he’s okay. He just gives you a tight smile. Mark’s always been a nervous kid, so you figure it has to do with the little vampire interaction you just had. Or fear that his dad will yell at him for being late. They’re both pretty scary.

It’s not until after the service that you talk to your parents- your mother taking the time to hug Mark and pinch his cheeks before she even looks at you- and your father asks where you were.

“It was my fault, sir.” Mark speaks up, knowing that your parents adore him and won’t be upset. “I couldn’t find my church clothes, I forgot that they were in the wash and had to sort through all of my laundry. Y/n was an angel and stayed with me to help.”

“Huh,” Your father says, looking Mark up and down. “Well, your shoes could use a good polishing, but you look sharp, kid. Good man.” He pats Mark’s shoulder and walks off to talk to a friend. Your mother raises an eyebrow and shrugs, loading you up with tasks to take care of when you get home.

Do the dishes, fold the laundry, remember to take the store bought pie out of the container and pop it onto a plate so that it looks homemade. “Oh, and one last thing.” She stops you, turning away from her conversation about her book club meeting with some lady that she can’t stand. “I don’t want you walking through the city. Those vampires are getting braver and braver, attacking in broad daylight.”

“Okay, I’ll take the long way.” You promise her. She nods, and satisfied that you won’t die, turns back to her friends. You say goodbye to Mark and a handful of other people- most of whom you don’t like- and head home.

You have absolutely no intention of taking the long way home. It adds an extra half an hour to your walk and you swear you always get attacked by bugs. Besides, vampires might be dangerous, but it’s not like you have a high chance of encountering one. The three you’d talked to earlier were harmless, two of them attending your same university.

Jeno did medical research, occasionally stepping in to teach if the professors needed help. He’s technically a doctor, but he finds ways to multitask. The benefits of being immortal, you suppose, is that you learn a lot, especially if you’ve been alive since the 1100’s. He was nice enough by himself, though he would never answer your questions about history. Not that he wouldn’t try, but the poor guy would just get so confused that he would end up rambling about a completely unrelated topic.

Jaemin was a little different. He took classes, though his goal was to learn about interesting topics and keep up with the culture, not to fit in like Edward Cullen and prey on teenage girls. For someone so old, he’s surprisingly good at the technology classes, learning how to use a camera faster than your much younger parents. Jaemin also holds tutoring sessions for struggling students, pretty much offering help for every subject. Sometimes he assists Jeno with his research, though he never says what they’re researching. It’s always the same vague answer: medicine.

You know them pretty well, and yet you wouldn’t say that you’re friends. Vampires and humans coexist, but it’s not always that peaceful. There’s a definite divide between the two, a definite feeling of “we’re better than them” coming from both sides. And you can see why that divide is there, you can understand why.

After all, it’s not like you’re too fond of vampires yourself.

Cursed to hell, is a phrase used too often by your parents, by the church. God’s reject’s is another. And when you look at them, it’s hard to disagree with those statements.

They don’t burn in the sun but they can’t touch silver, can’t say God’s name, can’t enter a building without explicit permission. They catch on fire when they enter holy places (they’re fine to enter the one across town, but that’s another story).

Similar insults are used to describe humans. “How can you call us God’s rejects when you die so easily?” One vampire had countered when you were in middle school, pointing out that vampires couldn’t get diseases or die of natural causes like a human. He’d called you weak. You’d thrown a cross at him. Both of you had been suspended.

Still, you don’t hate vampires. And you especially can’t hate vampires now, not when you’re failing your chemistry class and your only option for help is Na Jaemin.

Mark has a different opinion. “Y/n, you can’t go to his house! He’ll kill you!”

You laugh. “Mark, come on. It’s either he kills me, or my parents kill me when they find out I wasted my tuition on a class I failed. It’ll be fine.” He still looks unhappy. You wiggle your fingers at him. “Look! I have silver rings on. I’m wearing my cross. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to be the one telling your parents you were killed by a vampire, y/n.” He sounds dead serious and you raise your eyebrows. 

“Mark, I’m helping with a research project. I’m not deciding to work for the food bank.” You point out. “This is the only way I can make up my grade, Mark. It’s generous of my professor to even let me do this.” He sighs, knowing there’s no arguing with you, and pulls his necklace off. Walking closer, he drapes the silver cross over your head. “Fine. Just, please be careful.” You smile and pat his cheek, tucking the charm under the collar of your shirt. “I always am.”

Jaemin lives in a pretty nice house on the top of the hill, which sucks because your calves are burning by the time you get up there. It has a pretty view, though, and it’s a decent distance away from his closest neighbor. You always joke that he could kill someone up here. Going up alone, that joke doesn’t seem as funny.

He’s got an old fashioned knocker on the wooden door that you only use because you’re not too fond of digging splinters out of your hands. It makes a pretty solid sound, and it barely takes five seconds before Jaemin answers the door. He looks good, wearing a dark blue button up with his hair pushed off of his forehead. Almost like he put some effort in. He obviously catches you giving him a once over and he grins.

“Eager to see me?” You tease, stepping past him into his house. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, of course. The world revolves around you, I just had to get a glimpse.” Jaemin drawls. 

“Alright, what’s the research project?” You ask, wanting to get straight to the point. “I’m only here because I need to pass my class, Jaemin.

He takes his time flipping through a book on his coffee table before glancing up at you, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms. “The effects of vampire blood in humans.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket. “If you say that you’re making me drink your blood, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Fucking hell, y/n. I know you humans have a problem with vampires, but I’m a researcher. I do research, and I do it just as responsibly and professionally as human researchers.” Jaemin snaps, and it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard him not use a flirting or teasing tone. “And besides, we already know what that would do. It would only turn you.” You swallow thickly at the thought of being turned. “Then what do you need me here for?” “We just need a few of your cells and a tiny blood sample.” Jaemin says, moving to where you stand next to the counter. “We’re researching if vampire blood has an effect on strengthening human cells, or preventing undesirable circumstances that affect humans. You know, aging, disease, the like.” He hands you some paperwork and you glance over it briefly. There’s nothing about him draining you dry of blood, so you sign it. “Great. We won’t be taking the samples today considering we’re at my house, but I’ll walk you through the basics of what we’re doing. You know, assuming that you’re smart enough to understand it.” “I’m not fucking dumb, Jaemin.” You snap, glaring at him.

“No, of course not.” He sympathises, smiling down at you. “Just a little slow. Come on y/n, you’re failing one of the easiest courses at the university. You’re not exactly smart.”

You shove the papers over to Jaemin, purposely letting your silver rings graze his exposed skin. Jaemin flinches back from your touch, a sharp hiss leaving him as he grabs at his wrist. He glares at you. “You fucking serious?”

It’s mean, but what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You meet his gaze head on, eyebrow arched. “What’s the matter, leech? Can’t take the heat?” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to ground himself. It’s probably not smart to goad him, but that’s exactly what you do. “Aww, don’t ignore me, leech. It’s rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you any manners?”

All the air in your body leaves you with a whoosh as Jaemin pins you up against the wall, wrists held over your head by one of his hands. A dull pain radiates through your body and you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your back from the impact, not that Jaemin seems to care. The boy stares down at you with dark eyes, standing way too close for comfort. 

“My parents died 300 years ago.” Jaemin snarls. “But yours are still alive. Didn’t they teach you to respect your elders?”

“You’re not older than me.” The words are intended to be fierce, defiant. They come out shaky, timid. “You’re a dead man, Jaemin.”

That makes him laugh, though you don’t think he’s found your words funny. “Yeah? Do I seem dead to you?” He tightens his grip on your wrist and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, make you look him in the eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat, little girl. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You are. He knows that.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side before dipping down, letting his mouth hover over your neck. “Not even now?”

You shake your head, swallowing down a whimper. He’s right about your heartbeat, it’s fluttering so frantically that you can hear it in your ears, feel it under your skin. You’re scared, but not for the reasons he thinks you are.

Jaemin smiles at you, fangs on full display, and moves even closer to your neck. The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

He scrapes his fangs along your neck, an action that’s painful in the most pleasurable way, but doesn’t break the skin. His tongue darts out instead, soothing over the pain before his lips press to your skin in an open mouthed kiss. Your fingers flex above your head and you ache to touch him, to fist your hand in his soft hair and pull him closer.

A moan leaves you and he pulls away, pressing his thumb to the area. Jaemin can feel your pulse from there and he smirks at how frantically your heart beats.

“You’re not scared?” Jaemin asks, the question condescending. He doesn’t believe you. “You do realize that I could sink my fangs into your pretty little neck and drain you dry, right?”

The mention of him biting you drags a keen out of your throat, and you find yourself whimpering out a “please” before you can help yourself. It has Jaemin pausing, eyes roaming over you as he reassesses the situation.

“Oh, you really aren’t scared.” Jaemin smirks. “Who knew that you were so fucking filthy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, dipping his head down and trailing the tip of his tongue up your throat. It feels nice, so, so nice, but it’s interrupted by a burning pain, a sob ripping from you at the intensity of it.

You thrash against his hold, but then the pain starts to get replaced with a pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and you slowly melt into his touch, arching against him to expose more of your throat.

Jaemin pulls away eventually, licking over your wound a few times before pulling back to give you a bloody grin. “Feels good, yeah?” You nod, and the bliss must be apparent on your face because Jaemin chuckles darkly before leaning back in. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yeah, want it.” The words are breathless and slur together, your body thrumming with heat, begging for more. Jaemin does the opposite of what you want and steps away.

“Be a good girl and take those fucking rings off, then.” Jaemin commands, and you swear you’ve never moved faster than you’re moving now, carelessly dropping your jewelry to the floor. Mark’s necklace lands near his foot and he scowls at it, crushing the piece of metal beneath the heel of his shoe.

You immediately grab for him when you’re done, but Jaemin doesn’t let you pull him forward. He just scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the sofa. You end up straddling his lap, his back pressing into the couch, and he wastes no time before sinking his fangs back into your neck.

“God,” You breathe out, winding your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to you. “F-fuck, Jaem, that feels so good.”

He just hums against your throat, continuing to suck and lick at the wound. There’s a little bit of blood on his lips when he pulls away and you wipe at it with your thumb before letting the digit slip past his lips. He sucks on it slowly, gazing up at you with dark eyes, and lets his fangs graze the skin. Arousal jolts through you and you whimper, pulling your hand away and dragging him back to your neck.

“Baby wants more?” Jaemin teases, not waiting for an answer before sinking his fangs into you, this spot even more sensitive than the last. You whine loudly, tugging at his hair and feeling your eyes roll back in your head at the euphoria spreading through your body. Your head feels fuzzy and there’s so much heat coursing through you that you can barely function.

“Mhmm, yeah.” You pant out. “Want more. Oh my God Jaemin, I’m so fucking wet.”

Jaemin groans at your words, one of his hands sliding up your thigh before moving inwards, cupping your pussy over your clothes. He pulls his hand away when you try to grind down, grabbing onto your hip to stop your movements.

“No.” He growls, the simple word vibrating through your entire body and making you shake. “You come from this, nothing else.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you hold onto him for dear life, your core clenching desperately around nothing. You hug him tighter, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to expose more of your throat, your lips parted to let Jaemin drag sound after sound of pleasure out of you. It feels good, way too good considering the action, and you lose yourself to the feeling.

The collar of your shirt is tugged down and then Jaemin’s lips are attaching to the top of your breast, fangs sinking into the delicate flesh. You keen and shove your chest further into his face, not knowing what else to do besides hold onto him for dear life. Your body feels heavy but your head feels light and it’s such a startling contrast to the euphoria coursing through your veins that it makes you dizzy. It’s hard to see straight, let alone think straight, and your pussy throbs with every little bit of blood that Jaemin takes from your body. Your hips rock against nothing but air, desperately searching for some sort of friction, something to fill your needy cunt, but you can’t find anything and it has you sobbing out in frustration.

More bite marks are left, more electricity shoots through your body, more wetness drips out of your pussy. You swear you’ve never felt this good in your life, and that’s only confirmed when Jaemin seals his lips over the first mark he left, licking and sucking at the wound until it opens all over again and you feel yourself falling, white flashing behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. You grab at Jaemin as tightly as you can, screaming his name and babbling incoherently as he drags out your pleasure, lets you get high off all of his kisses and bites.

It lasts forever, and it takes even longer for you to come down to yourself, Jaemin stroking your hair and your back. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you, his face clean and dry of any blood. It takes you a while to notice that there’s an ice pack on your neck and a plate of food on the table in front of you, and you vaguely wonder how long you were out for if Jaemin had time to do all of this for you.

“Don’t move too fast, baby.” Jaemin cautions, noticing you struggling to sit up. “I took way more blood than I meant to, you’re gonna feel a little weak.” “A little?” Your muscles feel like jelly when you try to push yourself off of him and you collapse back onto Jaemin’s chest with a soft groan. Jaemin huffs a laugh and helps you sit up, turning you around on his lap so that your back is to his chest. He drops a soft kiss to your ear and your eyelids flutter. 

“Here, take these.” Pills are dropped into your hand, a bottle of some energy drink you don’t recognize. “It’ll replace all the nutrients and stuff you lost.” Jaemin watches you down the drink in one go, tossing it across the room when you hand the empty bottle back to him. “How are you feeling?”

Your vision is much clearer than it was, though you still feel lethargic and would like to do nothing except lay down in a soft bed for the rest of your life. “My head hurts.” Jaemin hums. “Okay. I would rattle off some instructions for you to follow but I know it’ll just make your headache worse. I’ll write them down for you instead, how’s that.” “You’re so self aware.” Reality hits you when you feel the bruises on your throat, on your chest, and realize that yes, all of that did just happen. “Um. I didn’t know it could feel that-” You trail off, hand waving vaguely in the air. “Good?” Jaemin offers, laughing when you nod. “Mhmm, did they not tell you about that? I’m sure they make it sound like being bitten by a vampire is the worst thing imaginable at that fancy church you go to.” You look away, embarrassed, and Jaemin laughs. “You know that humans make drugs out of our saliva, right? That’s why there are hunters.” Your eyes shoot open in alarm. “Really? That’s awful.”

 Jaemin hums, nodding. “Yeah, well, when it’s profitable...” He laughs bitterly. “Anyways, it’s an expensive drug. And you just got that shit for free.”

“I feel so honored.” You laugh, snuggling into him. He pushes you back. 

“Y/n, I need you to understand something.” Jaemin says, tone suddenly serious. His eyes burn straight into your soul. “That was a mistake. I’m not- we can’t do that again.”

It shouldn’t hurt you. What you just did is considered shameful by many, you should be relieved that he’s telling you it can’t happen again. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with a vampire. “Oh. Yeah, yeah of course.” You nod, looking away from his intense gaze to blink back your tears. “Yeah, we just got carried away.” Jaemin looks like he wants to say something else, lips parting for a second before shaking his head, offering a tight smile instead. “We got everything done that we needed to get done. You should rest now.” 

He doesn’t mean now as in right this second, which he made especially clear after telling you that it was a mistake, but you can’t help it. You’re asleep in seconds.

When you wake up for the second time, Jaemin is nowhere to be found. You’re in your own bed, tucked in nice and neatly, and you smile as you realize it meant that the vampire had carried you home. There’s the list of instructions that he’d promised you on your nightstand, signed with nearly illegible hand-writing. Your smile grows before promptly dropping off. Vampires can’t get into a house without being invited. You’ve never invited him in, which means that he must’ve either asked permission from Mark or your parents. Neither is good.

The gravity of the situation hits you when Mark walks into your room, jaw set, arms crossed. He blanches when he sees your neck, the sight clearly making him uncomfortable. “Holy- y/n, I told you that you couldn’t trust Jaemin. You’re lucky I was here when you brought you home because I can guarantee your parents would react way worse than me.”

“Jaemin was fine. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” You see the exact moment that those words process in Mark’s mind, his face going from worried to angry.

“You let him drink from you? What were you thinking? Y/n, you look like you got mauled.” Mark sounds disgusted and you try not to shrink into yourself.

The bruises ache when you press over one of them and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment washes over you at how it makes you shiver. “Relax, it’s not like I let him turn me. We just got caught up in the heat of the moment. Mark, it felt so good.” Your eyelids flutter shut at the memory, snapping back open when Mark scoffs.

“So what? You want to be their blood bag now?” Mark’s voice rises in pitch as he yells and the sound grates on your nerves. “Wanna be a vampire whore for the rest of your life? Live in a dusty ass attic and let whoever walks by have a go at you?” “Mark, what- do you hear yourself? What the fuck is your problem?” Mark’s been your best friend since you were five. Never, never, have you heard him talk like this. It hurts.

“Do I hear myself? Y/n, I should be the one asking you that. Here you are, creaming yourself while talking about letting some fucking, some bloodsucker tear your throat open! It’s disgusting.” Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just as bad as Do-” He cuts himself off suddenly, but you know what he was about to say. “Just as bad as who? Donghyuck?” You shake your head, feeling hot tears prick at the back of your eyes. “It must run in the family to become filthy disappointments, then.”

Mark’s eyes soften and he grabs your wrist, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. “It’s not too late for you. Let’s go to the church, you can pray for forgiveness.”

You feel numb when you nod, letting Mark wrap a scarf around your neck and lead you down the road. He sits next to you in the pews, rubbing your shoulder while you rest your forehead on your hands, pretending to pray. But you can’t focus, can’t stop thinking about your brother.

Donghyuck was Mark’s best friend before you were. The three of you would hang out a lot, though you only joined the two because as Donghyuck’s younger sister, he felt obligated to include you. The two boys were inseparable, and then one day, they weren’t.

Your parents say that he was tainted by the devil. Mark’s father says that he betrayed God. You think Donghyuck simply fell in love. And love is a beautiful thing, but not when it’s between a vampire and a human. Your brother was forced to choose between his family and his love.

In the end, he chose love. 

That night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to stop thinking about your brother. If he’s alive, if he’s a vampire. If he’s dead. What you would do in his situation. Not that it matters, because you wouldn’t fall in love with a vampire, but you can’t help but wonder. Is it really that bad? They were once human, too. 

The thought doesn’t leave your mind even when you go to the lab, meeting an uncharacteristically quiet Jaemin, and a very excited looking Jeno. “Y/n! Thank you so much for doing this!” “Yeah, well, gotta pass my classes somehow.” You laugh. Jaemin doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at him, keeping his gaze just a little too low and frowning. 

“Seriously though, this is great. I’ve been trying to get permission for this experiment for ages, the fact that the administration finally caved is insane.” Jeno says, turning to ruffle through some papers on the desk. You shoot a curious glance at Jaemin, finally realizing that he’s staring at your neck. Or well, your covered neck. He’s trying to see the marks. With a glance towards Jeno, you carefully slide the fabric of your turtle neck down, laughing silently at how Jaemin inhales sharply, lips parting slightly. You yank it back up when Jeno turns around. “Jaemin informed you of the experiment, correct?” You shoot Jaemin a look. “Yeah! You just need to take a couple of blood samples, right?” Jeno shakes his head, tilting his head at Jaemin. “Not exactly. We’re going to need you to take microdoses of vampire blood.”

It takes a moment to register. “You want me to drink vampire blood?” You screech, eyes bulging. “That’s going to turn me!” Jeno shakes his head, laughing. “With the amount we’re giving you? No. It’ll only turn you if a vampire drinks your blood, and you die. You’ll be fine.” Next to you, Jaemin stiffens. You bite your lip. “Um. Like at the same time, or?” “It doesn’t have to be at the exact same time. If you’ve been bitten before, you can’t drink any blood or you’ll be turned. But again, that’s only if you die.” Jeno tilts his head. “Have you been bitten before?” “Jeno.” Jaemin draws his attention away before you can respond. “It’s just a microdose, right? Like, barely enough to have an effect?” He considers this. “Well, I mean, not enough to have negative effects.” 

You and Jaemin share a long look. Jaemin had drunk your blood not even a week earlier. It's dangerous. But it’s a small amount. Jeno said there wouldn’t be any negative effects. And you can’t fail this class. You send Jaemin a pleading look. Jaemin swallows thickly and looks back to Jeno.

“She’ll be fine?” Jaemin’s voice is shaky. 

Jeno nods. “Caring for a human? That’s odd, coming from you. But yeah, she’ll be fine.”

You exhale heavily. “I’ll do it.”

There are more papers to be signed, more blood to be drawn. Though this time Jeno takes it in a much more professional manner, drawing it out and putting it into a test tube. Next to you, Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut and you watch his jaw clench. You want to tease him but you can’t, not in front of Jeno.

Despite Jeno’s reassurances, the worry doesn’t leave you. He doesn’t know what you and Jaemin did, doesn’t know that you’ve been bitten by a vampire. And maybe it doesn’t matter- it’s not like you’re going to die or anything, which is what needs to happen for you to turn- but you need some sort of comfort. 

That’s how you end up bailing on your Friday night dinner with Mark’s family, saying that you need to finish a project that’s due that night. Your parents roll their eyes and scold you for not taking your studies seriously, but let you skip the dinner. Mark shakes his head at you, disapproving of you working with a vampire, but keeps his mouth shut. 

If Jaemin’s surprised when you show up at his door, he doesn’t show it. He just smirks at you, leaning against the door frame. “Hey blood bag.” You scoff and shove past him into the house, dropping down onto the sofa you sat on last time. “When did you start calling me that, leech?”

“When you let me drink from you.” Jaemin says plainly, sitting next to you. “Is there a reason you’re here? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but-” “But we didn’t tell Jeno you drank from me.” You interrupt. “We need to tell him. He’s been waiting forever for this, he’ll be devastated if we ruin it.”

Jaemin nods, considering it. “Y/n, you know you’ll get kicked off the project if we tell him, right?” You nod, biting your lip. “Look, Jeno’s been my best friend for hundreds of years. I hate keeping this from him more than you do.” “Then why are you?” It doesn’t make sense. You’re certainly not friends, or at least you weren’t before last week. 

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are dark and it looks like there’s a war raging behind them, but he doesn’t elaborate on what’s bothering him. The sharp points of his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bites it nervously, blood beading at the cut when he finally looks back at you.

You don’t think when you bring your thumb up to swipe at his lower lip, skin coming away red. Jaemin watches in fascination as you bring the digit up to your own mouth, sliding it past your lips, sucking the blood away. He swallows thickly.

“Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” You ask, glancing from his lips to his face. He shakes his head gently.

“It feels good for you because of our saliva.” Jaemin explains. “But it doesn’t feel bad when you do it, it’s just-” He makes a vague gesture with his hand as if trying to pull the words out of thin air. “It’s very intimate.”

He licks his lips, then, digs his teeth back into his bottom lip. It’s a subconscious movement but you still lean in to press a kiss over where the blood pricks up, nipping just hard enough to have a growl rumbling in Jaemin’s chest before soothing the wound with your tongue. You pull away and smile, licking the blood off of your lips. 

You don’t even have time to make a witty remark over how affected Jaemin looks because he’s pulling you onto his lap, crashing your lips together with enough force that you’re sure they’ll bruise. It draws a moan from you and Jaemin eagerly drinks it in, fisting his hand in your hair and deepening the kiss. 

A gasp leaves you when he pulls away, trails his lips down your throat. You tense in anticipation, a whine getting trapped in your throat when his fangs just barely scrape the skin. He leaves a wet kiss there, pulling away to look up at you. “Want me to bite you, baby?”

“God, yeah.” You moan out, tilting your head to expose more of your neck. 

“Ah, I’d rather you didn’t say that name in my house.” Jaemin laughs. He moves back to your throat, digging his fangs into the spot he’d marked. There’s less pain this time, pleasure coursing through you almost instantly. You whine and tighten your grip on his hair.

Electricity runs through your veins as Jaemin takes what he wants, marking up your body. You breathe out something along the lines of “want more” and Jaemin takes it to heart, scooping you up and carrying you to his room in record time. He tosses you onto the mattress, crawling over you not even a second later to press his lips to yours. 

He fits himself easily between your legs, rocking his hips down in a rare show of desperation. You can feel exactly how affected he is, his hardness pressing deliciously against your core. Another plea of “more” is whispered against his lips and he doesn’t need any more encouragement, pulling away to move further down your body. He kisses and nips his way down your torso, pushing your shirt up to reveal more skin to him, dropping kiss after kiss to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants. Your core throbs at the feeling of having him so close to you and you squirm, trying to spread your legs more, trying to articulate that you need something, anything. 

“J-Jaemin, take them off.” You whine, pushing at the waistband. “I need you.”

The coldness of his hands brushing against your skin when he drags your pants down has you shivering, squirming. He tosses your clothing to the floor and wastes no time attaching his lips to the inside of your thigh, holding you down when you squirm. 

“Is this okay?” Jaemin asks, concern mixing with his arousal. He brushes his index finger over your pussy, making your back arch in an effort to get him closer to where you need him. 

“More than.” Despite your assurances, Jaemin doesn’t touch you. He moves his hand up to your abdomen, flattening his palm to keep you pinned down. You whine in annoyance, but the teeth dragging over your inner thigh has you shutting up. A gasp leaves you before he even sinks his fangs in, your pussy absolutely throbbing with need. He presses another gentle kiss to the skin and, raising his gaze to make eye contact with you, bites you.

It’s more intense than when he bit your neck or your chest. It sets your body on fire in the best of ways, leaves you writhing under his touch. Your eyes roll in your head and your hands flail in an effort to grab something, anything to ground yourself. It’s amazing, and just when you think you’ve reached heaven, he touches you.

You’re soaking wet and Jaemin’s fingers slide into you effortlessly, fill you up so well. It’s too much effort to keep your eyes open and so you let them drift shut, let yourself fall into the bliss. There’s pressure against your lips and you open your eyes to find Jaemin hovering over you, sliding two fingers past your lips. You didn’t even realize he’d stopped biting you.

“Suck.” He commands, and who are you to disobey? You wrap your lips around the digits and hum at the taste of yourself, at the weight of them in your mouth. “Taste good, baby?” “Mhmm, yeah.” Your words are slurred around the digits and you suck even harder around them, letting your tongue trace patterns around them. Jaemin swears softly and grinds down against your thigh. 

He presses one more kiss to your lips before sliding down your body. “My turn to taste.”

Maybe there should be some sort of alarm going through your system when Jaemin lowers his mouth to your core. Some sort of reminder that he has some very sharp fangs, that he has just bit you in multiple places, and that his fangs are right in the place that fangs should never be. But it feels heavenly when he licks a stripe between your folds, when he fucks his tongue into your hole. His hands keep you pinned to the mattress, super strength coming in handy to control your squirming. 

The pleasure consumes you and it’s so much, too much, and your eyes want to squeeze shut but Jaemin looks up at you and his gaze is magnetic, making it impossible to look away from him. Your body’s on fire, burning brighter with every flick of his tongue, every moan he lets out into your core. He pulls away to drop his head to the apex of your thigh, digging his fangs into the delicate skin there, and you can’t fight the scream that rips from your throat. You’re babbling, chanting incoherent words as you try to explain how good it feels, how you never want him to stop. His hair is soft in your grip and it’s the only thing keeping you anchored, the only thing preventing you from drowning in pleasure. 

“You taste so good, baby.” Jaemin moans, pulling away momentarily to make a show of licking his lips. “Everything about you is so delicious.” He returns to your core, lapping at your hole before flicking his tongue over your clit, laughing at how your body jolts. There’s nothing but hunger in his eyes as he sucks your clit between his lips, fucking two fingers into your needy cunt. He does it again, hitting all of your sensitive spots, making you scream with bliss as you finally tip over the edge. 

Wave after wave of euphoria crash into you and your lungs burn as your gasp for air. You’re drowning in the best way possible, surrounded by nothing but pleasure and Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

He works you through it with gentle flicks of his tongue, hands smoothing over your thighs to bring you back down. You manage to find enough strength to shove at his head when it gets to be too much, tiredly sinking into the mattress when he pulls away. Jaemin wipes at his mouth and bends down to kiss you lazily, nipping at your lip just to hear you whine. He smooths your hair down and brushes a few strands out of your face, smiling down at how fucked out you are. And you’d be content to lay wrapped in his arms, with Jaemin cooing softly at how pretty you are and petting your head, but you can feel how hard he is.

“Jaemin,” You murmur, shifting in his hold. “Jaem, wanna make you feel good.” “It’s alright, you don’t h- oh, shit baby- you don’t have to.” He has to fight to get the words out, a groan interrupting his sentence when you grab at his cock. You pout at him and manage to tug his pants down just enough for you to pull him out. 

“But I want to.” You smile, leaning up for a kiss. Jaemin doesn’t bother replying, just presses his lips back to yours and melts into your touch. The way you jerk him off is lazy, your energy drained from how intense your orgasm was. Though with the way Jaemin groans against your lips and tightens his grip on your hip, you don’t think that he minds.

He moans your name when he comes, a beautiful sound that has your stomach twisting with heat. White spills over your knuckles and onto his stomach and you bring your hand up to your mouth, licking at it curiously. Jaemin watches you with heavy lids before collapsing onto the mattress. 

“Fuck,” He sighs, eyelids drifting shut. “Why’re you so good to me?” “Why are you so good to me?” You mumble back in response, curling up into him. “Thanks for not biting my pussy.” Something  about that sets Jaemin off and his body shakes with the laughter running through him. A giggle leaves you. “What?” Jaemin shakes his head, still laughing. “Nothing. Come on, gotta get you some food.” 

And that’s how it goes. You and Jaemin continue to hook up, although he does end up saying ‘fuck it’ and attempting to actually teach you chemistry. Despite Mark’s fears, he doesn’t end up killing you. He’s a lot of fun to be around, plus he keeps his pantry stocked with various snacks. Sometimes he even cooks for you, if he’s feeling nice.

“What’s a vampire doing with all this food?” You ask one day, watching him make fried rice. He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the pan and offering you a shrug, though you swear you see him blush. 

Your professor raises your grade to a C. It’s not stellar but it also isn’t failing, which you will happily take. There’s only a little bit of guilt when she beams at you while telling you how happy Jeno is with your dedication to the project. 

Jeno continues to take blood samples, and you continue to not tell him that you’ve been bitten. It eats you up inside, but Jaemin’s always there to reassure you. Whether he’s trying to comfort you or himself more is up for debate.

Everything stays the same except for Mark.

He gets more distant, grows a little more resentful. There’s no smiles or teasing jokes, except for the polite ones he flashes in front of your parents. He starts to make up lies, too, which is something you promised to never do. Excuses to get him out of plans, saying there’s nothing wrong. And your best friend, the most timid, nicest boy you’ve ever met, begins to pick petty fights with you.

You’re over it, and it bothers you even if you try not to let it show. Jaemin rubs your back and tells you it’ll be okay, but you know it won’t. Because Jaemin’s the reason that Mark’s distant. And you have no plans to stop seeing him.

Talking to Jaemin, you’re sure Mark would have liked him if the circumstances were different. If Mark didn’t hate vampires so much, or if Jaemin were just a regular human college student like you. But those aren’t the circumstances, and so you have to deal with Mark’s whiny ass showing up at your door to drag you to church.

“Mark, it’s Thursday night.” You groan, shaking your textbook at him. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, you also have praying to do.” Mark snaps, grabbing the book out of your hands. “Not like you even understand this.”

Which, ouch, that kind of hurts. Especially when Mark knows that you’re frustrated that you can’t get the subject down even though you try. You glare at him and reach for the book. “Mark, give it back. And I actually do understand this, Jaemin’s been helping-” “Helping what? Taint you? Turn you into one of their blood whores?” Mark grabs the book back and throws it across the room. “Y/n, come on. I’m not letting this happen to you too.” He pulls you after him despite your grumbling, though he at least has the decency to let you put shoes on. Just because you go freely doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, complaining as Mark drags you through the city. “Jesus Christ Mark, has it ever occurred to you that Donghyuck had free will? That he willingly chose to be with her because he loved her?” You’re fed up with Mark, fed up with everyone. “God Mark, they’re not that bad!” Mark stares at you for a moment. “What, they’re brainwashing you too? How is it that both you and your brother are so dumb? I know you weren’t raised like this.”

“Well at least I wasn’t raised to be such an ignorant asshole.” You snap. “I have the ability to make my own decisions, something you apparently lack.” “Oh, so what’s that supposed to mean?” Mark stops walking suddenly, crossing his arms as he waits for an answer. You open your mouth to yell at him when a flash of movement catches your eyes. Squinting, you make out a group of guys, and they’re close enough that you can hear them laughing when one of them wipes… is that blood on his mouth? “Mark, we have to go.” You whisper. The vampires don’t see you and you’re hoping that you can get the two of you out of there safely. “Come on-” “No, tell me what you mean!” Mark yells, stubbornly standing in place. You groan and try to drag him away but he doesn’t budge. “Come on y/n, tell me what you fucking mean.” You shoot a worried glance over your shoulder, surprised when you don’t see the vampires. There’s a second of relief, lasting only until you turn around to find them standing right behind Mark. You squeak in surprise. Mark freezes too, one of the men having grabbed him by the shoulders. His face presses way too close to Mark’s neck and you jump when you feel hands on your own shoulders.

“Aww, lover’s spat?” The guy holding Mark laughs. “That’s okay, we’ve all been there, right guys?” The rest of his friends cackle in the creepiest way that you can imagine. “Come on, we can resolve this.” You and Mark look back and forth between each other worriedly. There’s no way out of this, you realize. No way to even try. 

“Don’t you wanna know how we can resolve this?” This time the guy holding you speaks and it’s so close to your ear that you flinch, nearly jumping out of your skin. He laughs and his fangs graze your skin, but it doesn’t send pleasure through you like when Jaemin does it. It sends chills down your spine, makes you want to cry. “Answer me.” “N-no.” You stutter out, eyes squeezed shut in fear. “Please, just let us go.” The guy sighs and lets go of you. “Alright.” You and Mark share a look before bolting, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Freedom only lasts for a second before you’re being grabbed again, yanked backwards. 

“Stupid girl. I don’t appreciate being told no.” You whimper and you can hear Mark screaming your name, screaming for help, screaming for anything.

It’s the last thing you hear.

“Jaemin, you’re an idiot. Literally the dumbest person I know.” There’s a familiar voice swimming through your head and you try to move towards it, finding your entire body feels drained.

“Yes, I’ve been told.” Is that Jaemin’s voice? It sounds a lot clearer, drags you out of the darkness. “But look, it ended up being good, right? She’s alive.” You finally manage to pry your eyes open and immediately regret it, slamming them shut and curling into yourself. A groan leaves you and the two stop talking. “Y/N? Baby, it’s me.” There’s a hand on your cheek, brushing against the skin gently, and you press into his touch. “How are you feeling?” “Bad.” You croak out through a dry throat, cringing at how dry it feels. Jaemin laughs softly and something presses to your lips. “Here, drink this.”

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you get the first taste, and then suddenly you find the strength in your body to take gulp after gulp of the drink. It brings a little bit of warmth to your body, makes you feel less achy. You even manage to pry your eyelids open.

Jeno and Jaemin greet you, both men looking relieved. Jaemin beams at you, dipping down for a kiss. “Hey baby.” “What happened?” You frown, trying to remember how you got to Jaemin’s couch. “Did I- I was walking to the church and we were attacked.” Oh shit, you weren’t alone. You search frantically around the room. “Did Mark- is he okay?” The thought of your best friend- no matter how strained your relationship was at the end- dying is too much for you to handle. 

Jaemin smiles. “He’s the one that brought you to me.”

“He’s okay?” Jeno nods in confirmation.

“They only wanted to kill for fun, guess you were enough.” Jeno says. “Speaking of killing, Jaemin has a lot of explaining to do. And since I don’t trust him to do a good job, I’m going to stay here!” You look between the two. “Kill? Am I- I’m dead?” Jaemin makes a face. “Fucking- I’m a vampire?” Your words come out shrill and the two boys cringe.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “My bad. But, um, I’ll take care of you! Don’t worry.” Then, to Jeno: “Come on man, can’t we have a second of peace? I literally never thought I was going to see her again.” Jeno sighs, glaring at his friend before walking away. “Dramatic.” 

You’re in Jaemin’s arms in the next second, held close to his chest. “Fuck y/n, I’m so sorry.” His voice is shaky and he keeps his face pressed into your neck. “This is all my fault, I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you.” “We’ll figure it out later.” You tug at his hair to get him to look you in the eyes. “I almost died, Jaemin. Give me a headache later. Right now…” You trail off, letting your lips stretch wide. “Kiss me.” It draws a snort from Jaemin. “You were dead like an hour ago and now you want to fuck?” “No!” You whine and smack his chest. “I just want a kiss, get your mind out of the gutter.” Jaemin teases you some more, making you laugh and smack him to stop before you finally say fuck it and pull him closer, smashing your lips together. He smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. You have a lot to worry about, but you’ve also got all the time in the world to worry about it. It makes you sick to think about, and for now, you want to just relax. Not that Jaemin seems to mind, happily letting you curl into his chest, stroking your head. You’re not alone, you have Jaemin, and you know he’ll help you through this.

+ You’re not expecting a welcome home party. You’re also not expecting to find all of your belongings scattered across the front yard, having very clearly been chucked from your bedroom window. 

“Lovely.” You scoff, staring at the mess. The front door has the biggest cross you’ve ever seen nailed to it, complete with the silver door knob that you promptly burn yourself on. You stare at the door, wondering if you should knock. It swings open before you make your mind up.

Mark stares back at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Hey, Mark.” You smile, tight lipped. “Jaemin told me you saved me.”

Mark looks like he’s about to say something but then his mouth closes and he shakes his head. “Y/n, you- you’re a vampire now. I can’t.” Mark doesn’t look you in the eye when he says it and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” You mock, shaking your head. “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you would fucking look me in the eyes.” He doesn’t. “You know it’s your fault I’m like this, right?” That gets him to look up at you. There’s fire in his eyes this time. “No, it’s your fault for whoring around with vampires.” You shake your head. “Who made me go to church that night?” He looks away and doesn’t answer the question. “Good bye, Mark.”

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

Tilt

Bloom smiled as a butler offered her a crystal glass filled with, what she assumed was, very expensive champagne. She nodded gratefully as she took a sip, and then promptly had to physically stop herself from spitting it right back out. Either the champagne wasn’t as good as she expected or officials of Isis simply decided to serve something from the supermarket, while hoping that no one would notice. Then again, Bloom mused, it might just be that my taste buds are so used to the $10 wine so everything fancier just tastes like crap.

She shook her head and crossed her arms underneath the bustier of her skintone, off the shoulder gown with baby blue flowers scattered across the top and sporadically across the skirt as well. The nude color made her appear more tan than she actually was and while the dress was indeed very beautiful, it was just as uncomfortable. Bloom winced as shifting weight from one stiletto clad foot to another sent white hot signal of pain when one of the wires supporting her bustier stabbed her in the ribs. She bit the inside of her cheek to in order to stop herself from simply burning the fabric.

A cheerful laugh of her best friend snapped her out of her trance. Stella emerged from the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, her asymmetrical off shoulder gown highlighting every curve on her body perfectly. Long purple sleeve blended with yellow in a way Bloom didn’t even deem possible considering how different two colors are. Her other arm, that was completely sleeveless, sported some golden jewelry and floor length gown swept the floor elegantly with Stella’s every step. She was holding the same glass, filled with same champagne as Bloom, with her well manicured fingers. As soon as Stella was within arm’s reach, she grabbed Bloom’s elbow and leaned close to her, smile completely disappeared from her face.

“This stuff is absolutely disgusting.” Stella spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh really?” Bloom asked as smirk slowly rose on her lips. “And here I thought you preferred this,” she lifted a fancy glass into the air, “over my cheap wine.”

“Anything is better than this, for the lack of a better word, crap.” Stella scoffed. “This would’ve never happened on Solaria.” She tilted the glass once again to take a sip in hope it somehow started tasting better but ended up disappointed. Bloom almost laughed at Stella’s expression. “But then again, should I have expected anything more from a planet Diaspro came from?”

Bloom almost winced at the mention of a woman that had the ability to mess up her relationship with Sky like no other. The latest stunt she pulled, thanks to Valtor, only made Bloom more angry at everybody that turned a blind eye to her actions simply because she is a princess. It was only then that the thought occurred to her, that Diaspro might be here and that she might ruin their mission. She glanced nervously around the hall, panicking more the longer she couldn’t find her.

Stella, recognizing Bloom’s ‘two breaths away from having a panic attack' look on her face, was quick to put a calming hand on her shoulder. Bloom recoiled slightly but Stella gripped the flesh lightly in order to ground her. She leaned closer to whisper in Bloom’s ear. “Relax, she’s not here. Apparently her parents don’t allow her to go to events where his highness, prince Sky of Eraklyon, might be present.”

Sarcasm was obvious in Stella’s voice but it served the purpose of calming Bloom to the point where she actually start thinking lucidly again.

Bloom took a deep breath as her shoulders slouched slightly forward. “Thank you.” She whispered to Stella. Then, the actual sentences Stella was saying caught up to her and her eyebrows touched her hairline in obvious amusement. “Still angry at Sky I see?”

Stella snorted and wrinkled her nose at the mention of Sky’s name. “If you were smarter, you’d be angry too.”

“Hey!” Bloom yelped angrily but settled down quickly as she looked away. “I am angry at him.”

“Apparently not enough.” Stella gripped the glass so hard her knuckles turned white. “I mean, what’s up with him suddenly becoming a poster boy and actually listening to what his daddy says?”

“Well, technically, Sky’s meeting with Diaspro or her parents might cause interplanetary scandal between Eraklyon and Isis.” Bloom spoke in Techna's voice.

Stella’s lip twitched. “Still, interplanetary scandal or a potential threat of one never actually stopped him from going against orders before. So my question still remains.”

“Any sign of Valtor?” Bloom asked, hoping to divert the route of conversation.

“I just spoke to Techna. He hasn’t been detected and Amplificarum is still safely locked in the vault.”

“He’ll show up eventually.” Bloom nodded absentmindedly. “He always does.”

“See this, this right here,” Stella pointed to the marble floor and Bloom lowered her gaze to the direction her finger was indicating but furrowed her brows when she found nothing. “This is why Sky should be here.” Bloom’s lips shaped into a thin line whe she realized what she was talking about as Stella continued to rant. “Isn’t he concerned that Valtor might attack and something might happen to you?”

Bloom gasped. “I’m not some… damsel in distress that needs saving Stella!” She scoffed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

“C’mon Bloom, don’t give me that.”

“Well what do you want me to say Stell? That I’m angry? Disappointed? Fine. I’m disappointed that Sky chose to follow the order from his father when I wanted him to come with me. He most certainly could've found another solution but he did nothing. Instead he left me to face, potentially Diaspro and Valtor alone. There! Was that enough? Are you happy now?” Bloom’s cheeks were red by the time she finished her rant as her chest continued rising up and down in order to return much needed oxygen into her lungs, her exhaustion more due to stress than the actual rant.

Stella smiled and patted Bloom on the shoulder. “There you go. Now was that so hard to say?”

“What?”

“Nevermind that, anyway, be sure to tell him that next time, ok?”

Bloom rolled her eyes but a smile threatened to spread on her face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mhm, that’s why you love me so much.” Stella spoke with an obvious pride evident in her voice.

“Yeah, let’s just say you’re lucky I do.” Bloom shook her head and grabbed Stella’s elbow as she spotted a familiar short brown hair emerging from the crowd. “There’s Brandon.” She turned to Stella and pointed to where she saw him. “Go bother him for a while.”

Stella pouted and stuck her tongue out playfully at Bloom but strutted off towards her boyfriend, leaving Bloom alone.

With Stella gone, all of Bloom’s physical discomfort came rushing back and hitting her like a rogue train. Her feet ached, her head started hurting from the tight updo and she was pretty sure the wire that poked her in the ribs has punctured her skin. She felt the tender area with her opposite hand as much as she dared and exhaled short puff of air when she found nothing. She wanted to sit down or maybe even lay down and then not move for a few days.

She shook her head and took a sip of her disgusting drink in order to wake herself up. She looked around the dancefloor, automatically finding Stella and Brandon as they swayed to the rhythm. Techna and Timmy were huddled in the corner probably discussing something about technology. Musa and Riven were also in the corner, be it on the opposite side from Techna, which greatly surprised Bloom because Musa was more often than not first on the dancefloor alongside Layla (though club suited them more, but the two always found a way to fit in anywhere), but right now dancefloor seemed like the last place Musa wanted to be. Instead, fairy of music was busy glaring daggers at her boyfriend that seemed to pay little to no attention to them.

Bloom rolled her eyes at the two of them (not that her and Sky were any better) and focused on finding Layla that also, surprisingly, decided to go solo on this mission. She found her talking to some Isis official that she probably knew due to her status. With Layla’s position in mind, bloom turned to finding the last couple but Flora and Helia were nowhere to be found so Bloom assumed they were probably taking a stroll in the garden.

With those in mind, Bloom once again diverted her eyes from the dancefloor and looked at the champagne bubbling in her glass as her thoughts ran over the information she remembered about Amplificarum.

Apparently, the green stone, by physical appearance almost indistinguishable from emerald, had the power to magnify any spells or beams aimed at something. Or someone, Bloom thought. It was most commonly used for protection spells and it generally wasn’t meant for offensive spellwork. Bloom somehow had doubts Valtor will use it for protection spells. The sheer thought of chaos that could potentially happen if such artifact ever fell into Valtor’s, or anyone’s wrong hands, made Bloom shudder all over and grip her champagne glass bit tighter. That can never be allowed to happen. It’s why you’re here. There’s no way he will be able to slip in and out undetected with eleven pairs of eyes looking for him.

Bloom couldn’t deny that Valtor is the most powerful, and quite frankly the most cunning, villain they ever had the pleasure of meeting. What irked her to the point of madness, however, was the fact that Valtor always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

The battles are like chess game. Daphne’s voice sounded in her head. In order to defeat your opponent you have to figure out their strategy. You have to master the art of reading their moves and find a way to turn the odds in your favor.

It was not hard to guess who played certain roles in this game though. She was an amateur, an amateur that was loosing valuable chess pieces battle after battle whereas Valtor was a professional that suffered minor losses here and there but still had the most prized figurines in the game. It didn’t take a professional chess player to see that the odds were most definitely not in Bloom’s favor.

He’ll slip sooner or later. Bloom thought with a smile. Even Valtor can make a mistake. And it takes only a second, a slip of concentration, a lapse in judgment and the board will tilt in our direction. Even an amateur can get lucky and stometimes, the pawn can be the most powerful piece capable of settling the final score, so don’t sell yourself short.

Bloom was so distracted by her mental pep talk that she failed to notice one of the guests approach.

“This stuff they’re serving us,” Bloom jumped as a deep melodic voice rang out next to her. “it’s not something I expected from Isis royal court.”

The stranger came to stand almost arm to arm with her, but she also noticed she was almost two heads shorter than him.

“In a good, or a bad way?” Bloom asked with a frown. The stranger has short brown hair styled to a perfection, not even a hair out of place. From what she could see from the side without being too obvious, she noticed he had perfectly straight nose and an overall boyish appearance.

The stranger lifted one of his eyebrows curiously. “Have you tried that?” He pointed to her glass.

“Yes.”

“And how does it taste?”

“Like a hair conditioner.”

He nodded approvingly. “Interesting comparison. Not inaccurate though. Well Miss, I think you just answered your own question.”

Despite all odds, Bloom found herself smiling at stranger’s antics and clever quips. “I am sorry but I don’t think I got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.”

Okay, rude.

“Well,” she forced out, “would you be so kind to give me your name then?” Bloom really hoped her smile was more convincing than her words.

“There’s no need, Bloom. You already know my name.” Bloom’s smile vanished as the man finally turned to face her, the unique icy colored eyes she only saw on one particular individual looking straight into her wider-than-dinnerplates blue ones. She felt a bead of sweat roll down the thin column of her neck and disappear into her cleavage.

Bloom gulped.

Valtor smirked.

“You!” was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

He shook his head, his eyebrows set in a frown as he let out a disappointed huff. “That is not my name princess. You might wish to try again.”

“What are you doing here, Valtor?” Bloom managed through gritted teeth.

“Oh so you do remember.” Valtor smirked like the cat who got all the cream. “Good. Otherwise I would have to remind you and I really don’t want to spoil anyone’s evening.”

“As if you need me, or anyone, for that!” Bloom whisper-yelled as her eyes darted desperately across the room, trying to locate her team.

“Now now,” Valtor cooed, “it is not polite to look away from the person you’re having a conversation with, Bloom. Someone should’ve taught you proper manners.”

Bloom gasped as she felt the dragon fire raging in her chest, the effect much more intense than she’s ever experienced before. She swayed slightly on her feet and she raised her unoccupied arm to clutch lightly at her chest. The world was spinning in front of her eyes and just as she feared she might topple over, one of Valtor’s large hands grasped her bicep and the forest fire that burned in her turned into smoldering ashes.

Bloom leaned slightly on her side, Valtor’s arm acting like an anchor as she fought to regain her breath.

“What,” she rasped out, her voice hoarse like she just inhaled smoke, “was that?”

“Just a reminder that you should not antagonize me.” Valtor’s voice was cold and sharp and it made her swallow down a snarky response.

“Is that how you snuck past Techna and me?” The pain was gone but her legs still felt wobbly and she was forced to hold onto Valtor in order to remain standing. “A cloaking spell?”

“If the shoe fits…” he trailed off as Bloom stood up to her full height but despite the heels she wore, Valtor noted with a slight amusement, only managed to reach his shoulders. The glare princess of Domino sent him would make a lesser man run to his mom but it only made Valtor grin. Bloom ripped her arm from his grasp and he had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle that threatened to escape as Bloom stumbled slightly when he willingly let her go.

Bloom mumbled something that even his heighten senses couldn’t pick up. “I apologize darling, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?”

“I said that if you turn around and bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits.”

Valtor was in stupor for a minute, but then a surprised chuckle broke through his lips and his shoulders started shaking from the laughter he tried, and was slowly failing at, keeping contained. “Oh, and she bites.”

Valtor continued laughing sporadically, stopping for a few moments only to start up again. The lines around his eyes crinkled and Bloom found herself fascinated by how melodic and pleasant his laugh sounded. The thought only lasted for a few seconds before Bloom stomped on it with a part of her brain that was still capable of making rational thoughts. Get it together, Bloom.

“If you’re quite done,” Bloom spoke, her cheeks red from rather unorthodox behavior she exhibited few minutes ago, “how about you tell me what are you doing here, finally?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“Forget it, you’re not getting it!” She turned to face him fully, her eyes boring a hole into the side of his head.

Valtor lifted his eyebrows as if to say ‘Really?’, mockery clear in his eyes. “Are you going to stop me?”

Bloom nodded. “I am.”

Valtor shook his head, smile on his face, amused by her confident tone. She thinks she’s a match for me. Silly girl. He was just about to tell her as much when the music that played as more of a background noise, suddenly became louder, loud to the point it drowned out all the chatter in the room.

Bloom almost jumped out of her skin when the orchestra started playing, loudly. She flinched, however, when she once again felt Valtor’s huge hand on her body. This time his palm was not in a direct contact with her skin but the unusual placement of the said appendage caused her to panic. His hand landed on the small of her back and it was quite persistently pushing her forward, straight onto the dancefloor between other couples.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed through clenched teeth, sparks flaring at her fingertips, beginnings of an offensive spell already forming on her vocal cords.

“We are dancing.” His calm voice only made her more angry and she started struggling against the force pushing her forward.

“I don’t want to dance. Let me go.”

He stopped just short of the line separating area designed for dancing and bowed down theatrically while offering his hand to her. “May I have this dance, Miss?”

Few people closest to them turned around at the sound of his voice and Bloom had to bite her tongue to resist the urge to claw his eyes out. “No, you can’t!” She huffed out quietly instead, her neck and cheeks turning red from anger. “I told you, I don’t want to dance and I most certainly do not want to dance with the likes of you!"

“You wound me princess, truly. I don’t bite… not unless you want me to, of course.”

Bloom’s nostrils flared and flames began to dance in her eyes. What insolence.

“Let’s make a deal, princess of Domino.” He interrupted her just as smoke was about to start coming out of her ears. “You let me have this dance, and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know and I promise to tell the truth.”

“Why should I trust you?” She raised her eyebrows but it was obvious she was interested.

“You shouldn’t.” He tilted his head to the side as smile stretched across his lips. “But that never stopped you before.”

Sea blue met the arctic ice. A spark erupted and the coldness of his gaze melted away. “I give you my word.” His hand was still hovering in the air, his palm opened in invitation as he tilted his head in the direction of the dancefloor.

Bloom weighed her options. For as far as she knew, this could be another one of Valtor’s tricks to gain the information from her instead of vice versa. But the burning questions only he had the answers to kept pressing on the part of her brain that was telling her how much of a madness this was. Bloom sighed. Her hand rose hesitantly and slowly took hold of Valtor’s.

“One dance. That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

He gripped Bloom’s fingers bit tighter as he lead her into the classic pose with his unoccupied hand placed on her lower back, lower than socially accepted when dancing with someone you do not know, but still in the safe zone that didn’t ask for Bloom to knee him in the balls. His other hand loosened around her fingers and now gently supported her palm. Instead of placing her other arm on Valtor’s shoulder, Bloom gripped one side of her skirt so she could move freely and to minimize contact. He looked down , searching her face, but Bloom turned her head in the opposite direction.

Valtor was never the one to blatantly display his emotions but Bloom’s refusal to look him in the eyes was one thing that almost made him boil. He didn’t know why the daughter of those that defeated him had such effect on him and he didn’t like it. He hated not knowing what was running through her head, especially in the place where he was in an obvious disadvantage concerning numbers of the two opposing teams. During his careful observation, he counted eleven of them, and there was only one of him. Not like any of them actually pose any threat, he mused. The only one that is able to even remotely challenge me is the one I’m dancing with and from this proximity she can be easily taken care of. He studied her posture, how her eyes avoided his at all cost, how her back stood stiff like someone stuck a pole to her spine, how tightly she gripped her skirt as he moved with her elegantly. It was obvious she was not enjoying this. Well then, let’s make you even more uncomfortable.

Without warning, Valtor pulled Bloom closer to his body, upper body completely pressed against hers, one of his legs between both of hers as her head snapped up to look at his cheeky smile. Fire was blazing in her eyes but Valtor didn’t care. He thrived on her reactions. Bloom squeezed the hand that was holding hers in warning but Valtor only gripped the flesh of her hip in response. Devils were dancing in his eyes but to Bloom they looked alive for the first time. Gone was the icy look capable of making even the best trained soldier hesitate before rushing into the battle against him.

He’s genuinely amused by this. She thought. If only be wasn’t having fun at my expense, I might’ve let it slide. Valtor twirled her around other dancing couples, his graceful steps never flattering, and it occurred to Bloom for the first time that she actually didn’t step on his toes even once.

“How are you doing this?” She asked him as he swung her away from himself, only to bring her in again, her back to his front, both of his hands gripping her hips. In her peripheral vision, she saw him rise his eyebrow. “I’ve never been good at dancing.”

Valtor smirked. “Perhaps you’ve never had a good enough partner.”

Judging by the tone of his voice, he was mocking Sky openly so Bloom miscalculated and stepped with the heel of her foot onto his polished shoe. She heard him grunt as, what she assumed was a curse, left his mouth. She smiled. If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.

“What happened to my parents?” Her next question made him quirk an eyebrow and she saw his eyes widen for a second before he regained his bearings.

“What did Faragonda tell you?” He answered her questions with one of his own and that made her irrationally angry for some reason.

“I asked you first.” She bit her tongue before insults started spewing out of her mouth. She realized long ago that snarky comments only made him more angry so she wasn’t willing to risk her one chance. “Answer me.”

“Do you think you are in position to demand anything, heiress of the lost kingdom?” Anger was starting to creep up in his voice as he dipped her low and snapped her back up harsher than necessary.

Bloom gasped as she suddenly found herself in an almost horizontal position. “You promised.”

Valtor assumed their previous position, except this time he lowered his head so his breath would graze her neck when he spoke. He sighed and goosebumps rose on Bloom’s skin as his hot breath washed over her collarbones and sternum.

“The truth is, I do not know what happened to your parents. I was imprisoned before the final battle. As far as I’m aware, ancient witches were the last to see them.”

Bloom swallowed. “That’s not Faragonda’s version.”

Valtor laughed, though his laugh was somehow bitter. “And you, as a good fairy, believe everything that your headmistress says don’t you?”

“And who am I supposed to trust? You?”

“Have you ever wondered why,” he repositioned her hand slightly as he side stepped to avoid the couple that was directly on a collision course with them. The sudden movement made the lock of Bloom’s hair wiggle out of her bun. “your headmistress send bunch of barely legal girls to suicide missions against the powerful enemies such as myself?”

“Because she trusts us?”

“Because she has an underlying motive.” He continued when Bloom scoffed. “Think about it. Can you honestly tell me your headmistress provides you with all the available information before she sends you off into battles?”

His question made her think of all the times Faragonda withheld the valuable information because she deemed it necessary and she bit her lip as realization hit her. “That doesn’t make her evil.”

“I never said it made her evil.” Smirk once again climbed on her face. “She’s cunning alright, but not cunning enough to be considered evil.”

“What’s her underlying motive according to your expertise?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Everybody needs someone to do their dirty work.”

“Like you have Trix?” Bloom raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned. “Those three are as incompetent as they get.”

They danced in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few seconds, Valtor’s capable hands leading them. “You never answered my question.” Bloom said.

“What question?”

“How are you doing this?” She tilted her head slightly to their intertwined hands.

The edge of Valtor’s lips turned upwards. “You know how I’m doing it.”

Bloom frowned in confusion. “No, I actually really don’t.”

“Yes you do.” She was about to open her mouth to protest and to ask him what the hell he’s playing at, but he was faster than her. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”

Bloom’s shoulders tensed as the feeling of her native fire burning spread across her whole body. Okay, this is new.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”

Bloom locked eyes with Valtor as he bent slightly in the knees, his hands gripped her hips tightly and her hands automatically came to rest on his broad shoulders, as he lifted her up and then, with care she didn’t know he was capable of, lowered her back to the ground. There was something hypnotic about his eyes and Bloom found herself unable to look away as she fought to regain her breath once her feet touched the ground again.

Whatever moment they shared was interrupted by a horrendous sound of alarm blaring and all the lights going off at the same time as explosion sounded somewhere above them. Valtor smirked as Bloom recoiled from him as if he burned her. Her hands lit on fire as people started screaming around her and moving away from them.

Valtor could hear Bloom’s friends calling her name as they pushed through the crowd of panicked guests.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it!?” Anger was obvious in her eyes and Valtor found himself fascinated as the fiery glow from her hands reflected in her irises. What he would do to have her on his side.

He shook himself out of his stupor as he snapped his fingers, letting his disguise slip off. Short brown hair and boyish look was replaced by long strawberry blond hair and his face morphed back into high cheekbones and sharp jaw. “I would love to continue our conversation,” he raised his arm and shot blindly towards the ceiling, blowing a huge hole into it. “however, I believe that my time has run out.”

Distant flashes lit up and Winx finally emerged from the crowd, sparkly outfits and huge wings on point. Bloom was the only one that remained in her normal attire, her hands showing no sign of burning out anytime soon, as she kept shooting daggers at Valtor with her eyes.

“It’s a shame I wasn’t able to answer more of your questions, Bloom. But I don’t think this is our last meeting.” Valtor grinned, thirty two pearly white teeth on display. “Besides,” he drawled as Icy flew from the direction of the vault Amplificarum was locked in, green gem standing out against the pale skin of her hand. “you know where to find me.”

“Solar energy!” Stella’s arm shot up, spell hurtling straight towards Valtor, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash as his hand rose to absorb the spell.

“Stop in the name of the law!” Armed soldiers and specialists started breaking through, their weapons and swords drawn and ready for a fight.

Valtor’s laugh echoed in the room as he shot off towards the hole in the ceiling, his mouth reciting the spell Bloom was quite familiar with. “Have the taste of your own medicine, princess of Solaria.”

Bloom barely had time to put up a shield as Stella’s own amplified spell was hurled back to them, painting the whole room in white hot glow, forcing everyone to close their eyes so they don’t go blind.

When Bloom finally gathered enough strength to open her eyes, Valtor was nowhere to be seen and people, specialists, guards and her team were slowly climbing back on their feet. Remnants of Stella’s spell still lingered in the air, making the room uncomfortably bright and forcing Bloom to squint.

“He did it again.” Stella spoke next to her and Bloom nodded absentmindedly as Stella continued looking around. “He used a heightened version of my spell… it’s a miracle no one’s been hurt.”

Bloom shook her head. “I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone Stell. He obviously needed a distraction to get away.”

“He doesn’t want unnecessary pain and destruction… you told me that’s what he said to you on Andros.”

Bloom nodded. “I think he managed to fulfill his promise, for once.”

Bloom looked up where Valtor made his exit and couldn’t help but to think that the chessboard once again tilted in his favor.

[onechicagorpf]

Two Can Play This Game

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med ED doctor)

Summary: Y/N and Jay have a very undefined relationship, which causes problems when Jay decides to meet with Ally, his ex, for drinks. Y/N’s not one to take things lightly, so when Jay dismisses her jealousy she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine...

Warnings: Loud yelling-at-each-other arguments, which can be triggering, so please watch out! Swearing + dubious medical content, as per usual lol

A/N: I just needed a break before I got started on Not A Stranger Part 4, so this happened! Enjoy! As per usual, please leave comments if you really liked it - they mean a lot!

The sun is bearing down on you hard, and you feel a trickle of sweat go down the back of your neck.

“Need a drink?” It’s Ethan, tossing a cool bottle of water at you. Grinning, you catch it and quickly begin to empty it into your mouth.

Ethan’s frowning, looking up into the sky. “Some days, I just don’t get Chicago. It’s either freezing because it’s the polar vortex, or it’s boiling hot because - well. Whatever. I hate this.” Crushing the plastic bottle, you toss it into a nearby trashcan. “We’ve cleared everyone?” You ask, gesturing to the relatively less frantic movement of firefighters, cops, and doctors on the road. Ethan nods.

A gas explosion had gone off in an apartment, and it was bad enough that CFD paged ED doctors to come down and treat some patients on the scene. Natalie, Connor, Lanik and the student doctors opted to stay behind and hold down the fort, so you were dispatched out with Will and Ethan. For the last hour and a half, you’d been busy running triage and treating whatever burns, smoke inhalations, and other trauma injuries came your way. Luckily, the fire had been contained to just one floor, so there were only a few really awful burns. But of course, this is Chicago so there’s only so much luck going around.

The building was an old one, and that coupled with several structural defects meant that the south face of the building had partially collapsed. So in essence, for every burn victim CFD pulled out, there were about three penetrating or blunt traumas from falling concrete.

“Yeah, but I’d rather treat trauma from a falling object than burns any day,” Ethan comments and you raise your eyebrows. “See, if you’d told me that at the start I would’ve just taken all the burn vics and tossed the rest to you.” Ethan throws his hands up, as you start laughing. “Okay hold on, I didn’t say I wanted to take them all – ” “You guys good?” Cruz swings by, soot and sweat on his face. He takes off his helmet with a sigh, and his shoulders sag like he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Should be asking you that. Are you guys done with search and rescue?” You ask, kicking a nearby plastic chair towards him. Cruz thanks you and starts taking off his equipment. “Yeah, we’ve cleared building. CPD’s in there now.” You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of the police - well specifically at the thought of one detective who you know is on scene…

Except you’re supposed to be mad at him now, so stop thinking about him!

“So they think this is arson? And that it’s related to some case Intelligence is working?” Ethan asks, and Cruz nods, “Seems that way, yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence, and your eyes scan the area, watching patrol officers lift up police tape for the last few victims being wheeled into ambulances. You get up, ready to check with Will if he’s ready to go back when Cruz kicks at your feet, a cheeky smile on his face.

“So what’s this I hear about you and the younger Halstead being on the outs?” His eyes light up, and you groan, swearing. Ethan laughs, and you shoot him a glare, to which he simply shrugs like as if he’s got nothing to do with this.

You turn back to Cruz, narrowing your eyes at him. “Who told you and what do you know?”

“All I know is that you and Jay were both at Molly’s last night and you didn’t even look at each other.” Cruz pouts, acting all sad. “What happened to my favourite detective-doctor duo, huh? Why the trouble in paradise?”

You roll your eyes. “We’re fine. We just…were hanging out with different groups of people last night.” Shrugging your shoulders, you lean against the nearby table of supplies, trying to look all nonchalant. Ethan raises his eyebrows, “So you’re definitely not pissed about the blonde chick Jay had drinks with 2 nights ago?”

“Okay, fuck you - ” You exclaim, unable to hide your rage at that memory. Which Ethan and Cruz find hilarious, apparently, because they’re throwing their heads back and laughing.

“You guys suck,” You punch Cruz in the arm as you walk away; the two men calling you back while still laughing. You flip your middle finger at them, which elicits an outraged “Hey!” Shaking your head, you chuckle as well.

The Med ED/Firehouse 51/Intelligence circle is a tight one and you love it - love having friends who are more or less in the same line of work, friends you can lean on, friends who don’t get pissed when you have to cancel on them last minute. But the flip side of that is the fact that nothing stays secret. Gossip is most the valuable currency in that social circle, so if Cruz and Ethan know, then it’s not a bad guess to think everyone knows.

“Dude, c’mon. You’re an adult. Just take the damn injection!” Severide’s voice catches your attention, and you turn. He’s standing at the back of an ambulance, with Will and Jay by his side (your heart, again, skips a beat, which only pisses you off because ugh, you’re so bad at being angry at him!). The three of them are crowded around a fairly attractive, topless blonde man sitting in the back of the ambulance, shaking his head vehemently. You start making your way towards them, listening in.

“Hell nah – I’m not letting you stab me with that shit – ” The guy’s eyes are wide, and he’s leaning back from Will.

“It’s just a tetanus shot,” Will explains, exasperated. He points to the guy’s side, where a bandaged piece of gauze has been stuck to his skin. “The rusty stairwell scratched you, so you need to get a tetanus shot.”

“I said, I’m not fucking doing needles!” Hot blond guy yells and Jay runs his hand down his face. “Okay dude seriously, I can’t question you about the fire unless you get treated first, so please just take the damn shot so we can all move on with our lives – ”

“What’s going on?” You interject, hands on your hips. All four men turn, and you’re very careful to not make eye contact with Jay. Will and Kelly both immediately shoot furtive glances at Jay once they see you, so obviously they also know that you and Jay are having an argument. Great!

I mean, it has to have been Jay’s fault, because you didn’t tell anyone…well except for Natalie…who might have told Maggie…who might have told April…who might have told Kelly - shit. Well, it doesn’t matter. The whole thing is only happening because of Jay. Technically the two of you weren’t really dating – it was just a couple of hookups, but then you also started hanging out a lot together, and it got to the point where everyone knew that the two of you were basically kinda sorta an item.

You liked that you guys never had to sit down and talk about what exactly the two of you were – all that meant was that you guys were strong and confident and that you didn’t need to have a discussion about where you stood!

Or at least that’s what it meant to you. Jay apparently thought it meant it was completely okay to go have drinks with an on and off ex from high school, who he’d admitted to you he’d hooked up with on multiple occasions in the past. When you (rightfully!) got pissed at him, he just frowned and said “What’s the problem? We’re not together.”

To which you responded very maturely.

So maturely!

In a very, very responsible way…

Okay, fine, maybe you screamed “FUCK YOU!” at the top of your lungs and left his apartment, slamming his front door loud enough to wake up all the neighbours.

You get that you’re maybe being a little over-dramatic, and maybe it is on you because you just assumed you didn’t have to have that conversation with Jay. But it hurt you immensely how he thought it was okay to go have drinks with an ex (an ex!) without thinking about you at all.

“Blake here tripped on his way down the fire escape and got scraped by a rusty stairwell, but he’s refusing his tetanus shot.” Will explains, snapping you out of your reverie.

You turn to the guy just in time to catch him giving you a very slow once over, smirking.

Okay…

“How come a big strong guy like you is scared of needles, hmm?” You tilt your head, putting on your best flirty voice. It’s just a thing that tends to work with unruly male patients, you’ve learned over the years.

And yeah, maybe it can be a side benefit that Jay’s going to be an audience to you flirting with someone else…serves him right!

“I’m uh, I’m not actually scared of needles. Just didn’t trust that guy – ” He nods towards Will, who throws his hands in the air, “ – to do a good job you know? Take a delicate hand for these things. Speaking of which…you look like you’re pretty good with your hands,” Blake licks his lips, flirting with you blatantly. You have to press your lips against each other to not burst out laughing.

“Dude…” Jay threatens in a deep, dark voice, but stops when you turn around and grab the tetanus shot pack out of Will’s hands. You step towards Blake, who’s looking up at you with lust in his eyes as he shifts for you. Wiping his shoulder down with an alcohol swab, you find a good spot.

“I’m pretty good with my hands too, by the way,” Blake supplies, winking and you nod. “I’ll bet,” You reply, as someone behind you scoffs. From the corner of your eye, you can see Kelly turn away, trying not to laugh.

You’re much closer to Blake than you really need to be, not that he minds – in fact you’re pretty sure he’s having a great time checking you out up close. He curses under his breath when you inject him, but quickly recovers. You rub on the jab site once done, and trash the used pack. “Good to go,” You shoot Blake a smile. “Oh, one more thing!”

You turn, looking at a very frowny, jaws tight, arms-crossed-over-his-chest Jay Halstead. “Let me borrow that,” You reach forward and take his notepad and pen from him, before scribbling down your number on the top most sheet. Ripping it off, you press it against Blake’s chest, winking. Blake’s hands come up to take the piece of paper, grinning, briefly brushing your fingers as you pull away. Jay’s jaw is on the floor when you return his notepad and pen to him, and you can see Will just shake his head at you, amusement all over his face.

“Alright, let’s go!” You say to Will, and the two of you plus Kelly leave Jay behind with Blake.

“Jay’s going to murder that guy, you know right?” Kelly asks, once you’re out out earshot from Jay. “Like, he’s going down for a homicide. You just got an innocent man killed.” You chuckle and Will lets out a low whistle.

“I’m not gonna say he didn’t have that coming, but damn that was harsh.” The older Halstead says, still laughing.

Shrugging your shoulders, you act innocent. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about – I was just making friends!”

Will and Kelly both look at each other before looking back at you.

“Oh, yeah, of course – ”

“Obviously, what else could that have been – ”

You punch them both in the shoulder at their faux-agreement, the three of you laughing. Ethan comes over, saying there’s an ambulance ready to take them back to Med. You and Will say your goodbyes to Kelly, and take your leave.

***

It’s almost midnight when you finally get home. Hip-checking your door close behind you, you start undoing your scarf and carelessly toss it onto your coffee table, before collapsing onto your couch. Your hand roams the crevices of your couch, finding the plastic remote and turning on your TV. Rubbing your eyes while yawning, your TV comes alive to the news of the day. As if on cue, the screen is filled with videos of the building from earlier this morning.

“…while the gas explosion was first assumed to be an accident, it was later proven by CPD Intelligence that it was started by Derrick Henderson, a 35 year-old construction worker from Englewood, who…��

There’s a knock on your door, three loud raps. You blink, confused, and there’s another three. Frowning, you sit up, and you hear: “Y/N, I know you’re in there, c’mon just…just let me in, please,” Jay’s voice is muffled from the other side of your front door, but you know it’s him. Groaning, you get up and make your way over, unlatching your door.

“What do you want.” You intone, seeing him standing there in your threshold. He grabs the door with his hand, like as if he’s afraid you’re gonna shut the door in his face.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Jay starts and you hum, agreeing. “And then I think you owe me an apology,” He finishes, and your mouth falls open.

“What the fuck did I do!” You yell, shoving against his chest. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t even budge - which is kinda hot, actually, wait, dammit - focus!

Jay’s eyes go wide, like he can’t believe you’re claiming innocence. “Are you kiddi – that whole thing! With – with Blake, the fucking moron, who was basically stripping you with his eyes! That was so unnecessary – ”

“You literally went on a date with your ex and you’re telling ME what’s unnecessary?! You – ”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Your neighbour from down the hall yells, and both you and Jay shut up. “NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS YOU FUCKING MORONS!”

Jay scoffs, and turns to step down your hallway to your neighbour’s apartment when you reach out, grab him by his tee and unceremoniously drag him into your apartment. Slamming the door behind you, you turn to give him a piece of your mind.

“You’re the asshole who told me that we weren’t really together so it didn’t matter if you went out with your ex-girlfriend! So why the fuck is it a problem if I give my number out, huh?!”

Jay throws his hands in the air. “I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t fucking – I wasn’t thinking when I did what I did and I can see know that it probably really hurt you, but I swear I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t want to hurt you; I just fucked up. But you – you went out of your WAY to piss me off – ”

“ALL I DID WAS GIVE OUT MY NUMBER – ”

“IN FRONT OF ME! TO SOME OTHER GUY! WHEN I – ”

The two of you jump when there’s loud banging on your door. “I’M CALLING THE FUCKING POLICE ON YOU TWO!”

Jay wrenches your door open and you see your pissed off neighbour on the other side. “I’M HER BOYFRIEND AND I’M THE FUCKING POLICE, SO YOU’D JUST BE CALLING ME!” He slams the door shut and turns, running his hands over his face.

“Okay, okay, we gotta stop yelling. Anyway, my point is – what?” Jay asks, as you stand unmoving, mouth slightly open.

When you eventually find your voice, all you can say is - “You’re my boyfriend?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you – ” Jay smiles, reaching for you but you just step back.

“That you just decided you’re my boyfriend? Because this relationship is an autocracy?” You glare at him, getting angry again. The nerve of this guy!

Not that your heart didn’t practically soar when he called himself your boyfriend, but…

“No, no, we’re very democratic, and we should talk about this more, once we’re done with all the yelling.” Jay announces, and then he smiles. “I’m just saying I love you.”

“See, no, this is exactly the kind of issue with you - you just make decisions and act like you’re right and you can do whatever you want and you can go out with your ex if you want and that’s all supposed to be fine but the moment I – as a joke – hand out my number to some guy to give you a taste of your medicine, I’m the one who crossed a line and – wait, what?” You cut yourself off, confused if you’re hearing things.

“There we go,” Jay laughs, a fond smile etched on his face, as you finally process what he said.

“Did you just…did you just say you love me?” You ask, your voice soft as you step up to him.

“Yeah,” Jay’s grinning now, right in front of you. “I’m sorry it took me a while to realise it, but…I love you.”

You just blink at him for a couple of seconds, eyes starting to tear up. And then you punch him in the chest as hard as you can.

“Ow! What the fuck?!” Jay asks, eyes wide as he frowns, wholly confused.

“You fucking – fuck!” You whisper angrily, not wanting to piss off your neighbour again. “You had to fucking go out on a date with your ex-girlfriend and piss me the fuck off and make me make you jealous before you realised that you love me?!”

“I’ve been hit in the head multiple times…?” Jay shrugs apologetically.

“You’re an idiot.” You say, before cupping the back of his neck with your hand and pulling him down to press your lips together.

You can feel Jay smile through the kiss, bringing his hands up to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, parting your lips. You’ve kissed each other many times before, in many ways – good morning pecks, in-the-middle-of-sex makeouts, teasing neck kisses – but something about this kiss is entirely new. It’s just…warm, and loving, and delicate and beautiful and just – just perfect.

When you pull apart, the two of you rest your foreheads against each other, smiling like dumb idiots.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

[friendlylocalwhumper]

Their face aches from the amount of frowning they’ve been doing lately. A dull, low bell of a headache tolls in their skull from narrowing their eyes so much at this mess of a non-person curled up at their feet.

Quinn recognizes their own freckles on the pale, trembling body. The limp, sweaty hair that used to hold curls. The wide, dilated eyes and the knobbly joints.

They hate the sight of the scars. They hate seeing the thing flinch in fear. They hate everything that it represents.

“Get up. We aren’t finished yet.”

The clone curls in on themself further, one arm held just high enough to protect their head feebly. Quinn stoops down to grab it, but their doppelganger pulls away slowly, belatedly. Those drug-slowed reflexes won’t protect them physically, but they do give Quinn pause once in a while.

It’s… unsettling to see themself so powerless from an outside perspective.

Quinn sighs. They crouch next to the cornered thing. “It’s nothing personal, alright? You’d do the same thing to me if you had a chance. If you were the person and I was the clone.”

A low sniffle from the bruised and bloody not-Quinn. “I… am a person. I’m Quinn, too. I feel things, it hurts, you… you remember what this feels like.”

Not this, exactly, but close enough. The real Quinn frowns. The clone feels things just like any human would, they can see that. But that’s not a real reason to stop. They’d keep a real person locked up in their closet and torture them for information, too, if the information was this valuable. It’s not every day that a clone of yourself appears and you can twist information out of it like you can’t do just sitting alone in a room thinking through what you remember and believe.

“We’re talking about Emmie today.”

The clone curls up into a smaller shape, backing away. “I - I don’t want to.” They know they’re likely to be grabbed, so they tuck their thin arms out of sight between their chest and folded legs. Those dark eyes are big and nervous in the dark. “Don’t make me.”

“It’s not up for debate, you-” Quinn yelps as the thing lashes out without warning, unfolding and throwing themself forward to crash into their captor. There’s a tangle of lanky limbs and now-messy hair. The drugged thing can fight, which is a surprise; must really be fighting for its life. It’s not difficult to pin, though, underfed and weak as it is. Quinn’s hands are wrapped around its wrists and they’re sitting on its chest soon enough, watching it pant and give faded attempts to twist free.

“You belong here,” Quinn asserts coldly. There is often anger in their voice as they deal with the clone, anger that the clone hasn’t earned in particular. “You deserve this. We’re going to talk about Emmie today. You deserve this for what happened to her alone.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did. You saw her body, you remember what happened. It was your fault that they ended up like that. So we’re going to talk about it, figure out what… what we can learn from…”

“I, it wasn’t just me, you did it-”

“You will be quiet until I ask you a question,” Quinn reminds in a hiss, keeping both of the clone’s wrists pinned and reaching with their free hand for their knife. The glint of the blade catches the clone’s widening eyes and they jolt, head turning away, chest heaving for air. Terrified beyond the ability to make another escape attempt.

The gauze wrapped around the clone’s chest, stomach, and thighs hides layer upon layer of gashes and stab wounds. Quinn has not made it easy for them to withhold answers. Doesn’t mean they trust the answers they do get, though.

“Your dose is wearing off. You’re able to think better than usual right now. Not a good sign, that you took this chance to bolt. I have to punish that, you know. And if you hold out on me with this round of answers, on top of that rebellion… we’re going to skip over the shallow cuts and go straight to cutting things off. Say your mantra to start.”

Head still tipped away, the clone whimpers into their bicep, ���I am… not a person. I’m an archive, and you have… full access. I am open.”

“You are open. You’re sure? I don’t need to dose you again before we start?”

“N-no, I-! I’m open, I’m open.”

The tip of the knife touches the clone’s throat, trailing up and over their Adam’s apple. The clone gulps and keeps their eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s the last thing she said to me?”

To us, the clone corrects mentally, brow furrowing as they try to remember. “Uh… ‘Have fun,’ I think. They were leaving all together, and she hung back a minute to rub my arm. I was reading a book.”

“Mmh.” Quinn brings the blade from their throat to between their collarbones. It begins to slowly, threateningly slice open the gauze protecting their healing chest. “What was the book?”

“It was… ah, it was, it was the one with… about oceans. It was a book about ecosystems and ships. Something technical, historical.”

“Why were you reading that? Why was it more important than going with them? Did you say goodbye to them, even look at all of them as they left?”

The increasingly accusatory questions and the deliberate slicing of the knife through cotton get the clone’s face twisting. “It was interesting. I wanted to learn.” The drugs are making it hard for them to focus, to remember all the questions. A distinct frown has settled onto their features as they struggle to remember. “It… wasn’t important. But going out wasn’t important either. I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t important. Really. Considering how they ended up, you don’t think it was important.”

“No, I - I meant, it didn’t feel important, back then. I didn’t know-”

“Did you say goodbye to them? Did you even look at them?”

“How could I know they’d-”

An awful squelching sound is followed by a wet, screeching gasp. The knife is buried in the clone’s chest, now planted into a lung. Quinn watches their dawning horror without compunction.

“I can’t remember what Emmie said to me. It wasn’t that. You can’t remember either, can you?”

“Hnnnh, gggghhhnnn, ple-ease, ffffhhnn, fu-, fuck…” Pitiful, squeaky whimpers spill out of the clone like the blood dripping down the sides of their chest. Quinn hasn’t let go of the handle. They have half a mind to rip it out and stab downward again.

“Your best friend. She bothered to stay behind to say something and you can’t remember what it was because you were busy reading. You didn’t look up at the others. Two of the boys were joking around and you don’t know which ones. Émilie was there, alive, hand on your arm, and you were reading about ships that ended up in scrapyards instead of looking her in the eye and taking whatever she said to heart.”

“She - she didn’t - s-say - an-nything…”

“She did! I know she did. She stayed behind.”

“I… asked her to… bring me back some leftovers,” The clone argues, taking raspy, choked breaths. Thin, weak coughs force their way out of their battered body.

“No. She told me something.”

“Yeah? Then - then why don’t - I interrogate, f-fuck, -terrogate you? She told… you. Told y’ too.”

The knife twists. The clone’s brows knit and twist together in the middle, their neck tensing up like they’re about to roar with a scream, before they go limp. Blood pours from the deep wound in their chest.

Quinn wears a slight sneer as they pull the knife free and open their first aid kit, popping open a protective case around a healing crystal that they made a deal to procure. A pricey deal. The clone is hardly worth it, in the grand scheme of things, but Quinn needs them alive - at least just barely. For answers. True answers - which will come with time, once the red herrings and scraped-together lies are all exhausted. With enough pain, anyone can break. Even a cheap copy of Quinn Mae.

[animatorweirdo]

Frozen heart: Music in the dark

You fall into middle-earth with your best friend and start a new life. 

Warning: Swearing and scary themes.

This chapter is a bit long but it might be interesting to read. 

"Run! Run! Run!" You yelled.

The ghouls screeched behind you and your friend. You two ran like crazy through the forest. The ghouls jumped from tree to tree as they pursued you two. You could hear their haunting screaming above the ground. You could also hear them from far away on the ground too. They were trying to surround you two.

You and your friend hopped over a fallen log. One of the ghouls managed to jump at you. You quickly pulled your friend over the log. The ghoul crashed into the log, breaking it in half. The ghoul would have gotten your friend if you didn't pull her away. You two didn't waste time and quickly ran away. Another ghoul appeared in front of you, blocking your way. You two screamed and ran in another direction. The ghouls were literally everywhere. You started to doubt that you two will escape alive.

"Jump!" Your friend pulled you with her and you two, then stumbled down a rocky hill. You grunted and gasped as your body rolled down the hill. Rocks and sticks under the snow hitting you and scraping your skin. You two finally managed to get to the down of the hill. The violent spinning stopped. You laid on the snowy ground, breathing heavily. Everything was stinging.

"Camilla!" You called for your friend. She appeared in front of your line of vision and quickly helped you up. You groaned when your ribs started to ache. There was a chance of broken ribs. You ignored your pain and checked if Camilla had injuries. "Come on; we need to keep moving," She said, pulling you gently. You heard hollow screaming in the distance. They were coming. You two quickly moved, and to your surprise, you two managed to find a cliff and a waterfall. There was a long drop over the cliff. The place was pretty sweet, but there was literally nowhere to go to. You two were trapped. "Are you freaking kidding me?!" Camilla yelled.

You two gasped when something dropped behind you. You two turned around and were faced with a giant ghoul. It was bigger than the other ones, and it had blood-red eyes than rotten yellow. You smelled a foul smell of death. The ghoul growled at you two, licking its sharp teeth. It was ready to devour you two. You looked around in panic. There were no more escape routes, except the waterfall if you jumped, and hope the fall won't kill you. There was a tiny chance that you two will survive, but it was better than getting eaten by a giant blood-thirsty monster.

"Hey, this might get us killed, but would you rather be food than jump off a cliff?" You asked. "Are you crazy?" Camilla asked. "Maybe, but there is a tiny chance of survival," You said. Camilla stared at you like you grew another head. She turned her attention back to the giant ghoul. It started approaching you two with hunger in its eyes. She glanced at the cliff, then at the ghoul. "Fuck it!" She yelled. She grabbed your arm and jumped over the cliff with you. You two screamed as you fell toward the bottom. You fell through a cold mist before being engulfed by cold water. You screamed from the shock the cold water gave you. Your screams were muffled by the water, and the air in your lungs turned into bubbles. It was so cold. It was like thousands of cold needles were stabbing you from every corner.

Someone suddenly grabbed your jacket and pulled you up. You gasped as you burst through the surface. The cold air struck you like a brick. Camilla pulled you out of the deep water. You stood up after your foot hit the bottom. You hugged Camilla's arm as your legs felt like jello. "Fuck, it's cold," Your teeth clattered. You turned toward Camilla. "Are you okay?" You asked. She was shaking as well. You both were dripping wet from the cold water. "Uhm... look over there," Camilla suddenly pointed out. You followed her gaze, confused, then froze when you saw people. They were wearing strange medieval clothes and were staring at you two with shocked and frightful expressions. Why were they wearing medieval clothes? You then noticed a slight change in the environment. The waterfall was gone, and it was morning. If you recalled correctly. It was still nighttime before you two jumped over the cliff. You also didn't hear the ghouls anymore. Where in the hell you two ended up to?

"Camilla... where the fuck are we?" You asked.

And that's how you two came to this world. Middle-earth, the land of humans, dwarves, elves, and orcs. There are even people called Valars and Maiars, who are like gods of this world. You and Camilla were completely dumbstruck when you heard that from the village people you met at the lake. However, you two needed to do a lot of convincing to make them believe that you were not the dark lord's servants. This dark lord guy, Morgoth was a big deal and something to be afraid of. You and Camilla, however, didn't think about it much and started traveling in this new world. It was fairly exciting, but sometimes you two got really homesick, which led you two to settle down in a nice village near the mountains of Himring and the place called Maglor's Gap. Weird names, but this was another world, so it made sense.

"Cami! I'm home!" You came through the door. The door slamming against the wall with a loud sound after you kicked it. "Can you like not break the damm door?!"Camilla yelled from the table. She had a bowl in her hands, and there was an open book on the table. You frowned in curiosity after you smelled a mild scent of coffee. "Are you still trying to make coffee out of those beans?" You asked, walking over to the table. "So what?" She asked back. "You don't know how to make coffee, and those beans aren't really coffee beans," You pointed at the bowl of green beans. "Well! It's better than nothing," Camilla continued what she was doing. You shook your head then approached the kitchen cabinets. Camilla and her caffeine addiction. It's been five months since you two came here, and she started to miss her morning coffees desperately. After you two moved into this village, she has been trying to come up with a recipe to make coffee out of the beans that closely resembled the brown coffee beans. She has tried at least five times, and every time it failed. You two ended up drinking something worse than expired milk.

You opened the cabinet, then saw something very bad. You two were out of food. Again. "Cami! There's nothing to eat!" You turned toward your best friend. "What?" She turned toward you then saw the inside of the cabinet. She groaned, knowing what an empty cabinet meant. "For fuck sake," She stated.

You two walked through the thick forest, holding baskets. It was spring, so finding food was easy since you two mostly fed of from berries and mushrooms. You two occasionally buy food from the village, but money was difficult to get in this world. Technically, you two were broke, really broke. You two sometimes do volunteer works to earn some money, but the money was not enough to feed both of you, so it was off into the forest every time the cabinet was empty. Berries and mushrooms were free.

You crouched down to pick up a batch of brown ceps. Too bad you disliked mushrooms, but it was literally one of the only things you can eat. You fell on your knees after they grew tired of crouching down too long. "You know something, a supermarket would be a really cool place right now," You said and stared at the sky. "I know, too bad credit cards are completely useless around here," Camilla answered. She sighed and stretched her legs. "We could have at least fall into a world where we can at least use our world's currency," She explained. "This world sucks. I wanna go home," You stated. Your thoughts ran back to the memory you saw the giant ghoul for the last time. You actually didn't mind getting eaten by a ghoul right now. Sounds a lot better than walking around in this world, eating berries and mushrooms. "Okay, come on, the cabinet is not gonna fill itself. We need to be back before the nightfall," Camilla stated. You mentally whined. You really didn't want to go through a forest. You wanted to go back to the house and take a nap.

After three hours of suffering and looking through a stupid forest. You two managed to fill your baskets with delicious berries and edible mushrooms. You two were currently in a large meadow. You took a big yawn and looked around the meadow. You stood under a large tree. It gave perfectly shaded from the sun. You set your basket down then sat down, leaning against the tree. "(Name)! I'm gonna go back to the village to buy some meat!" Camilla called. "Okay, I'm gonna stay here and relax a bit," You answered. "Okay, but come back before the sunset or I make dinner for myself!" She called. "Alright!" You answered. You then saw her pick up her basket and disappeared into the forest you two came from. You took a deep sigh and leaned against the tree. You then glanced at the scenery you saw in the distance. Mountains, wide-open land, and forest. It felt so same and unknown at the same time. You didn't really know what to think about it. You and Camilla encountered many types of people. You once met dwarves and that was an exciting experience. Dwarves were quite friendly folk, despite what things have been said about them. Elves and orcs were the only ones you two haven't seen. Elves could be nice to meet, but maybe not orcs. They are said to be the dark lord's servants and the most violent creatures on the earth. It's for the best that you two won't even think about them. You got more serious things to worry about, like getting some decent food on the table.

Your head laid against the bark of the tree. You yawned, and your eyes started drooping. It was peaceful. You don't even remember the last time you found peace. Your eyelids started to close slowly and it was hard to keep them open. Maybe a little nap won't hurt. You were about to close your eyes, but then you remembered something that motivated your eyes to stay open. You never slept well because of the nightmares. Every time you go to sleep, nightmares always bother you, making you wake up in the middle of the night. You were technically an insomniac. That's why you are always tired. You stared into nothingness as you tried to keep your eyes open, but they wanted to close so badly. You yawned. It's been ages since you had a good sleep. The whole thing almost sounds foreign to you,

Birds singing caught your ears. The song of the birds made the situation worse. Your eyes were harder to keep open. A yawn broke out of your mouth. Maybe a short nap won't bother. There was a tiny chance that you will catch a nightmare in such a short time.

You wake up to a sudden sound of a gust of cold wind. Your heart started beating up after you noticed there was snow everywhere. You stood up in a panic. What happened? Why it was winter out of a sudden? You looked up to the sky and saw that it was dark. You weren't sure if it was a night. The moon and the stars were missing. It was just pitch-black darkness. You gasped when you heard a deep rumbling sound from the forest. You stared at the forest where the sound came from. No, it coulnd't be. You backed away with a beating heart. You almost fell on the ground from the startle when you heard the same sound behind you. Your whole body started to shake from a familiar feeling of fear. You stared at the forest in front of you. There was nothing but darkness, but you knew. You knew what lurked in there. Stalking you. Ready to devour your whole existence.

You backed away, not breaking eye contact with the dark forest. Your back hit against the tree. Burning tears started to come out of your eyes. "Please... don't..." You fell against the tree. A familiar feeling touched your bare hands. You saw frost covering your hands under its white layer. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth. The warm air turning into a visible mist from every breath you took. You hugged yourself to protect the last bits of warmth you had. "Go away, Go away..." You begged. The tears running freely across your cheeks. You heard heavy steps coming toward you, but you didn't dare to look up to see what it was. You knew what it was, and you didn't want to look into its eyes. "Go away, please..." You were whimpering at this point.

The silence and the wind were replaced with gentle and beautiful music. You stopped shaking as the fear you felt disappeared. The beautiful music was accompanied by soft humming. Was somebody... singing? Everything suddenly became dark.

You opened your eyes and stared at the green grass in front of you. It was warm, and there was no snow. The sky was blue, and the birds flew across it with freedom. You looked at the forest. There was nothing. You dried up the tears that managed to dry up against your skin. It was just another nightmare. You almost laughed for even thinking a short nap would spare you from nightmares.

Your attention was caught by familiar music you heard in your nightmare.  You looked around the tree and saw a person playing harp. The person was obviously a male, telling from the deepness of his voice. He was quite tall and had long dark hair covering his back. What really caught your attention was his ears. They were pointy. Was he an elf?

You stood quiet and listened to his music. He was a pretty good musician. The dreadful feeling of fear you felt before was gone. You felt calm and relaxed like there was nothing to be afraid of. His humming was also very calming. You can only imagine what his voice sounded like. You were gonna take a bet that his voice was angel-like.

The music ended shortly, and the silence took over the meadow. The birds started singing, and the crickets went on with their business. You almost didn't notice how quiet it was when the elf stopped playing. It was like animals stood quiet for him to play his harp. You heard the elves had a special bond with nature, but this was the first time you got to witness that happen. The silence between you and him started to bug you. You were still literally staring at him while he didn't even know you were there. To avoid future awkwardness, it's better to say something now than nothing.

"Nice song," You said.

You almost crapped yourself when he suddenly snapped his attention toward you. His eyes were steel grey and almost sent shivers to your spine from their coldness. He was quite handsome, though, but you still better be careful with your words. He looked like he was having a bad day. "Who are you?" He demanded. Bingo, he had a great voice. You quickly regained yourself. "Sorry if I scared you, but in my defense, I was already here taking a nap before you started playing," You explained. He stared at you for a moment like he was trying to figure out if you were lying. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to look away from his intense stare. Oh no, you managed to make this awkward, didn't you?

His expression became softer after he saw your basket and not any traces of suspicion. "I see. I apologize for my attitude. I'm having kind of a bad day," He explained. Hah, you knew it. "No worries, not every day is a good day," You said. He chuckled, which sounded like a scoff. "Unless every day is a bad day," He muttered under his breath. You frowned when you heard that. He was probably having more than just a bad day. You could offer some comfort, but you didn't know him at all, so it's better to stay out of his personal business. Silence took over the atmosphere for a while.

"So... do you live around here? I heard you don't meet elves around these parts often," You asked. He looked at you, then chuckled. "Bold words from someone who lives in elven lands," He said with an amused tone. Was he making fun out of you? "Hey! I recently moved to a village around here. I haven't gotten time to learn anything," You defended yourself. "Oh really?" He questioned with a challenging look. "Yes," You answered. He stared at you for a moment before chuckling with a tiny smile. You crossed your arms and smiled along. His mood seemed to turn positive, which was a good sign.

"What's your name?" You asked, wanting to know. "How about you tell me your name first since I was the first one to ask," He said back. You rolled your eyes. "Okay. My name is (Name). May I ask what's your name?" You answered. He chuckled. "I don't think you want to know," He said. "And why is that?" You asked. This intrigues your curiosity. "Because when I tell my name, people tend to avoid having anything to do with me," He explained. That sounded a bit dark. Telling from the tone of his voice.

"Try me," You said. He glanced at you curiously. You got guts. "My name is Maglor from the house of Feanor," He waited for your reaction. "Cool," You casually said. Okay, not what he was expecting. He stared at you curiously.

You glanced at the sky and saw the sun descending on the horizon. "I need to go," You got up then picked up your basket. "I need to be back at home before my friend starts making dinner without me," You explained. "See you around, Maglor from the house of Feanor," You waved your goodbye then walked into the forest. Maglor watched as your figure disappeared into the forest. You were... interesting for a human. He glanced at the sunset, then sighed. He got up, holding his harp against his chest. He better go back too. He glanced at the forest you disappeared into. There was a very tiny chance you two would meet again, but for some reason, he had a tingle of hope that you would meet again. He was not sure why. Maybe because he had a normal conversation with someone that didn't include the drama of his family and the damn oath. He started to walk back to his brother's fortress. The sun finally settled down, making room for the moon and allowing Varda's starts to give light to the middle-earth.