#tyzador

[fangbites]

Who: Izador With: Ty ( @sxncerelyme ) Verse: tbd​?

It was somewhere past three in the morning when Izador broke into Ty’s penthouse, the city rife with nightlight. He paused in the entryway, knowing Ty was gone; it was dark and still inside, but the living area was illuminated by lights from the city outside shining in the floor- to- ceiling windows, a wall that was more or less pure glass displaying the world outside. 

He loved this place.

It filled his throat with a bitter lump, and after a moment of regathering his senses his fingers slipped up the wall to the lightswitch, leaving behind the same bloody streaks that surely decorated the doorknob. Some belonging to him, some not. He was coated in it, head to toe- his brain a syrupy, buzzing thing. He’d watched plenty of people die. More in the past six months than any other point in his life, but he’d never- he’d never been the one to actually kill someone. He’d helped, of course, and he’d been responsible, but he’d never actually killed anyone on his own. And now? Well. Everything was better in threes. And he did feel better, or at least- less enraged, which was basically the same thing as better, right? 

After another short pause, Iza struggled out of his shoes and padded his way along the familiar route to the master bedroom, pausing briefly and staring at the bed- unmade as always, blankets and pillows in disarray, and he considered climbing in then and there, bloodsoaked clothes and all. Satisfying, to ruin those expensive silk sheets Ty loved, but even just looking at it Iza was filled with a cold sort of exhaustion. All he wanted was to not feel this anymore. For Ty to be in that bed, skin cool and comforting against his own, and for things to be exactly how they had been a week ago. Perfect. Blissful. 

A sliver of hurt and dread sank in through the numbness, and Iza turned away with a scowl, sanctimonious anger taking root once again. Ty had been the one to ruin it, the one to say no to him. Good thing Iza was kind enough to give him this second chance. And besides, he hated how itchy blood got when it dried on his skin.

From there, he marched to the master bath, peeled his sticky clothes off and clambered into the shower, turning the water so hot that it hurt for a moment. He viciously scrubbed it all away, the blood, tissue, clots, gods knew what else, water pure filth as it sluiced off his body and the cleaner he got the clearer his head became. He’d killed someone. Three someones. And he shouldn’t have come here-- but he was the only one with a real grasp of time, here. The only one who was too painfully aware of how quickly time would pass. His dads weren’t a day older than the day they’d adopted him and they never would be, whereas Iza- god, he’d blink and tomorrow he’d be getting grey hair and wrinkles. He didn’t have all the fucking time in the world, especially not as this stupid, fragile human. Fuck knew what could happen. A fire or a crazed gunman or a fucking piano falling out a third story window. He was quick witted and armed to the teeth, but physically- he was just… so much less. And he hated it. So it had seemed a given that his vampire boyfriend would turn him… but.

Here they were.

He turned off the water and reached for a towel, drying himself off as he stepped out of the tub and into the steamy room. He tousled his hair roughly, too out of sorts to treat it with the care it deserved, and rubbed at the fogged mirror with his palm, smirking at his reflection. Tousled hair, bleached so blonde it was white and so much shorter than it had been this time last week- barely tickling his ears and considerably curlier than it had been before, free of the weight that had accompanied his waist- length waves. And his neck, chest and shoulders- angry, red, and marked up with the still- fresh bites he’d begged that other vampire for just a short while before he’d killed him, stake through the chest. He’d dated Ty long enough that seeing himself covered in bites wasn’t a foreign site- and even if he hadn’t wanted anyone but Ty to bite him, and even if these bites weren’t the type that would turn him, he was sending a message.

If you don’t, someone else will.

And yeah, the jealousy this would hopefully garner would make it all that much sweeter, too.

Maybe it was pathetic of Iza to be giving in and coming here at all, but he’d care about that later. And next time, because there surely would be a next time, it would be Ty’s turn to give in first. 

He finished drying himself off and discarded the towel, padding naked without a care in the world to Ty’s closet where he stole a pair of boxers and a shirt, shrugging them on before waltzing off to the kitchen. A peek in the fridge told him yep, still some human food here, and after only a moment’s debate he pulled out eggs and sausage. Simple, but quick and comforting. It didn’t take long at all to cook and he was halfway through dousing the finished product in enough hot sauce to melt a layer or two off the inside of his mouth when the front door opened.

His shoulders tensed immediately, spine going ramrod straight and his fingers curling tight enough around the hot sauce bottle that his knuckles went white. Anger was the easiest defense mechanism to default to, and it wasn’t an inaccurate portrayal of his feelings- it was a bit too simplistic to be the whole picture, but it wasn’t a lie, either. He was angry. He was also hurt, insecure, rejected, lonely and sad, to name a few.

He didn’t turn around for a good long moment, stabbing at his eggs with his fork and watching the yellow run out, mixing with red.

“I’m still mad at you,” He snapped finally, voice cold and scornful as he turned around and landed a forced scrutinizing gaze on the vampire. “I’m here because I just thought I would give you an opportunity to apologize.” He fell quiet for a second before the sight of his ex became too much to bear and he looked away, blinking rapidly against his teary eyes as he deflated back against the counter and lost his armor of pretense. “And also because... because even if you don’t want to love me forever, I’d like it if you could at least love me for a little while.”

[nyctimus]

well, this is awkward.... Tyzador

9: Tripping up/down the stairs.

Iza had a taste for the finer things in life. Always had; even when he’d been nothing more than a college boy waitressing his way through tuition and flirting shamelessly for tips.  Winter break in the mountains had a good many fine points, the biggest of which was the copious alone time with his dear Ty but the fact that he got to traipse around in his favorite robe and a pair of Ty’s underwear, downing a steady supply of white russians whenever he damn well pleased with the roaring fireplace keeping him nice and toasty despite the dreamy snowy wonderland outside was a very, very close second.

Winter break was a lovely break from obsessing over criminal law; particularly in this cute little chalet Ty had brought them to. It was just a rental, he was fairly certain- but the view was pretty, the exterior was so rustic chic... the interior could use a little work and he was itching to give it. Maybe he’d bat his eyelashes and suggest that Ty purchase it, let him design the inside.

An emporium like Ty’s didn’t just sleep through the holidays, so Iza hadn’t yet made good on his threats to kidnap him away from all technology- he was saving that for Christmas itself and a few days surrounding it- but he did allow himself to interrupt a time or seven whenever his... boyfriend seemed to trite a word, but sugar daddy felt too emotionally detached- whenever Ty did dedicate a couple hours to his job. 

That was where he was headed now, upstairs to his office. The alcohol and a little sappy holiday cheer had his insides singing warm, and between that and the hardwood floors paired with his fluffiest socks... well, it added up in to something tragic. He was three stairs from the top when he gracelessly bit it, elbows slamming onto the landing hard enough to have his eyes stinging, and he only just barely managed to keep from sliding all the way back down. He blinked, once, twice, three times, eyes wide with shock before registering... the universe wasn’t kind enough to let him humiliate himself in peace, apparently, because there were a pair of legs within his line of vision and if he followed them up to the face of the person he belonged to, well, he didn’t want to see what Ty’s face looked like. Concern, probably, or pity, or amusement, and Iza didn’t want to know which. 

He scrambled up, flailing for the banister and scarcely managing to avoid sliding back down to the floor once again- his face burned as his heart thudded in his chest, and if Ty had been anyone else in the world Iza might have entertained the idea of throwing him over the railing to keep this embarassing display under wraps. As it was, he simply reached out and stabbed at the man’s chest with his finger as he passed, hissing a venomous “You saw nothing!” as he fled to the bedroom to sulk in his shame.

[fangbites]

Who: Izador With: Ty ( @sxncerelyme​​ ) Verse: Donec Mors Nos Separaverit

Iza first caught sight of him in the VIP section. 

It was the sound of his laughter that had drawn his attention; loud and jubilant and pretty. It wasn’t a club he’d ever visited before, despite the interior being exactly the type of sexy luxury he gravitated towards and the name being something that pinged his radar as soon as he saw it’s name pop up in his google searching. Sugar and Spice. The kind of place looking for Everything Nice, wasn’t it? 

He was vain enough to think that sounded like exactly the sort of place he belonged.

It was outside his usual prowling grounds, but he was in the mood for something different; Genevieve was clingy and his usual haunts were losing their shine and splendor. He yearned for something new, for something exciting. And so far this place was ticking both boxes with bold ink. Nobody’d blinked twice at his fake ID; the music wasn’t so loud that it made his ears bleed, and the bodies in here made at least a pretense at being of a different breed. Not so much the sweaty nightclubs shrouded in darkness broken only by fleeting neon, packed tight with too many inhabitants like the ones that lined the filthiest, poorest outskirts of his hometown; no, this was inner city and upper class. It was a glamorous flavor of depravity. 

Three steps inside the building and Izador decided he was in love. It was all ivory and gold with furniture of red velvet, and if anyone was caught outside a suit or dress they were decidedly still in something expensive and hot. Iza’d taken a wild guess with his outfit for the evening and hit the mark, he thought; white see through lacey turtleneck top, white satiny pants. Classy, fashionable, shameless. No more than a five minute wait before he had his first drink of the night in hand, an oh- so- generous gift from one of the handful of eyes on him. The satisfaction in the little smirk that twisted his lips wasn’t even pretense. 

He’d come out with the intention of being chased, for once, instead of doing the chasing. And quick fucks in dark corners or bathroom stalls were all well and good, especially with more than one substance joining the fun- but sometimes it was hotter when things were drawn out. Better when it was slow, when you wanted it so bad you ached.

The Brunette in the VIP section didn’t exactly change what Izador desired, but he certainly stole all of the focus for himself- and Iza abruptly didn’t care who was chasing who, he just wanted him.

The night progressed. He batted his eyelashes, simpered at the women and men who offered their attention, even if his was always- at least some portion of it- on one person in particular. He did a terrible job of hiding it, too; not that he made much effort to conceal it from the man himself. A bit of casual conversation here and there told him that man was the owner, and well, how fitting. Iza liked having the best of the best. Birds of a feather, and all that. A little more surprising was the jolt that name shot down his spine. Lodgston. Ty Lodgston, Tyler Lodgston, and in truth he wasn’t just the owner of the Nightclub.

He ran this city, and was going for the next, too.

And Iza was smart enough to rethink pursuing him. If he gave himself the chance, he’d develop a migraine just thinking of Daddy’s horror; god, Iza was pretty sure half their conversations centered around him. For a moment, Iza was indignantly spiteful just on principal- for the last year or so, Lodgston had done this, Lodgston had done that. Any day now Iza was expecting his father to offer up some kind of proof that Lodgston had personally invented cancer or world hunger or something. It had taken every ounce of Izador’s restraint not to throw out a childish line like if you’re so obsessed with him, why don’t you just marry him?

The joke was on Iza. Seeing Mr. Supreme Villain himself, and he was ready to go ahead and sink to his knees right here in the club, offer him his lands or title or hand in marriage. Or a blowjob. Just, you know, whatever he wanted. Anything. If that smirk he was given the time their eyes met was anything to go by- well, Mr. Lodgston would be inclined to accept at least one of the above.

And unfortunately for Daddy Dearest, Izador’s loyalty didn’t extend to his dick. Maybe Dad needed to consider making less hot enemies if he didn’t want Iza to fuck them.

A rather unfortunate side effect of Izador having set his sights on one target in particular was that his interest in his other potential suitors for the evening dwindled with all the abruptness of a matchstick tossed into the ocean; an unfortunate side effect of Izador’s disinterest was the lack of care taken with his words. Sometimes people didn’t take kindly to that. Sometimes they got rude in return, and Iza got ruder back, and once in a while they had the nerve to pop him right in his smart mouth. 

Of course, things only snowballed from there.

It didn’t really cross his mind that this was a terrible place to be doing this, causing a scene on enemy ground. Especially when he was out of the loop enough that he didn’t recognize all the big players. But to be fair, Iza wasn’t really starting it, and for a moment as he stumbled backwards nothing a single conscious thought could pass through the haze of shock. He kept his footing somehow, just blinking stupidly as he lifted his hand to his face, wrist pressing lightly to his lips. Part of his sleeve came back red with blood, lip sliced up from a ring the other wore. 

Iza stared for a moment at that bright red stain marring his favorite top. Then he smiled, eyes meeting those of the fool who’d thrown the punch with excitement that could only be described as childish glee.

Between one breath and the next, Iza was on him. He may not be the biggest or brawniest dog in the fight but what he lacked in size he made up for in speed and the sort of training only having two overly protective paranoid mafioso fathers could grant. The fight wouldn’t last long in a room full of people, bouncers included and surely bodyguards quietly protecting their boss, the king of this city, but Iza didn’t need long.

He was too mad to just snap the guy’s neck; that was too easy. Blood for blood, an eye for an eye- or an eye for a lip as the case may be. French tipped fingernails digging into the man’s jugular were replaced with a switchblade in short order, not killing him yet, while one hand snaked up to his face. Iza would kill him, but first he’d shove bits and pieces of himself down his own throat.

Or he would have, if not for cursedly quick intervention. Iza snarled, writhing against the big, strong arms that held him. Fine, they wanted to interrupt his fun? He’d kill them first, and chase down his real prize next. He squirmed around, blade pressed to his captor’s neck lightning quick- but before he could tear that vulnerable flesh open and feast on a fountain of life, recognition of the pretty face that throat belonged to lit up the part of his brain that was sugar- coated, and Iza froze, the cold, relentless flare in his eyes replaced by one of almost pathetic adoration. Abruptly, Iza’s knife was disappearing, tucked away where it came from just as quickly as it had appeared, and he was deflating against the man with all the trust he might a lover, full weight melting into his hold, upright only as long as the man supported him.

“Oh,” Iza breathed out, his voice not holding even the faintest hint of all the predatory rage he’d been drowning in just seconds ago. “Hello, Blossom. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on a pretty boy with a knife?” He leaned in lightning quick once again before he could be stopped and he pressed a messy but gentle kiss to the man’s throat, a hint of tongue teasing that faint pink line he’d left behind.

[fangbites]

DONEC MORS NOS SEPARAVERIT: CHAPTER ONE

Or, the one where Izador Vaughn makes the biggest and best mistake of his life right before meeting and falling in love- at- first- sight with one Mr. Tyler Lodgston. ...That same Mr. Lodgston his father has been cussing about on a daily basis for the last four years for encroaching on his territory. The one running the opposing Mafia, yeah... that one. As if juggling impending fatherhood at nineteen wasn’t enough, now he’s got to convince Ty that he’s not a spy in addition to convincing Daddy Dearest not to murder his new boyfriend, let alone maybe calling a truce on the turf war thing. But whoever said the best things in life came easy? @sxncerelyme.

​I. | II. | III.