#It's like the vampire rules where a vampire must be invited into your house before they can enter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wednesdaymunson · 10 months

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Marked for Death

This is a request from @winchestergirl87-blog. I'm so sorry that I'm just now finishing this. Life happened, brain stopped working lol. I hope you like this. I tried to make it a one shot, but for some reason it's hard for me to do those lol.

Kas!Eddie x Fem!Slayer!Reader

Summary: Something strange is afoot in the town of Eerie, IN. Missing towns people, murders, and creepy creatures. Reader and BFF Oliver can't figure out what's going on. Things calm down and a hot rocker dude pulls into town, stopping by the family store.

Warnings: murder, alcohol, some fluff, death, abuse. I think that's about it. This is pretty tame so far.

A/n: This is set 37 years after what happened in Hawkins. One of Kas' powers is being able to read minds through touching hands, and he's able to walk in the sunlight because his guitar pick is enchanted. Traditional vampire rules, must be invited in, heightened senses. I also created a playlist to help me write this.

Everything around is so desolate. You ran to your grandma's house…you think. It looks like your grandma's house but everything is drab. There's a bunch of vine-like things sprawling everywhere and particles floating in the air. You cautiously walk around the house. The chime of a grandfather clock sounds and you quickly turn around to face a grotesque monster. You couldn't place him, he appeared to be a humanoid, but not something you've ever seen before. The clock chimes again so loud waking you up.

Your eyes snapped open, your chest visibly rising and falling. You quickly sat up, you could still hear the echo of the chime faintly in your ears. You frantically looked around your room making sure nothing was out of place. You fell back into your bed and pulled the covers over your head and let out a deep sigh.

"Y/N, it was just a dream..a weird one, but you're fine." You say out loud.

You peeked your head out from under the covers. There was a beam of sunlight breaking through the side of the curtain. By the looks of it and the sounds outside it had to be at least 11:30 am. You had been out late chasing leads on a possible demon. There had been a slew of murders in your town and from the information you got from the coroner, these weren't committed by a person. Part of you feels like they may be linked to the random disappearances of some of the locals.

You had come across something in a tree trunk that looked like a festering wound. You snapped a shot of it to send to your roommate. As you kept investigating you heard some twigs snap. You quickly turned around and saw some humanoid beast — it didn't resemble the one from your dream, but scary nonetheless.

"🎶 I am human and I need to be loved. Just like everyone else does🎶"

"Fuuuuck!" You breathed.

You forgot to turn your ringer off before you left the house. You quickly found yourself in the line of sight of the monster…. 'Can this thing even see me??' You thought. It made a few clicking sounds before unfurling its head to reveal a horrifying mouth, letting out a loud screech. You were already about faced running back towards your car. Once you reached it, you took a second to look back. It didn't seem like it followed you, but you quickly got in and left.

You finally dragged yourself out of bed and grabbed your robe. You slouched down the long hallway where pictures and paintings of family and ancestors donned the walls. You were from a long line of slayers. Your family, along with others, have been fighting monsters for centuries all across the world, making sure to keep balance. It wasn't a whole family affair, some retired, some died while on a case, and others simply wanted no part and distanced themselves. Slayer life could be lonely at times, but you were lucky enough to have your best friend along for the ride.

You and Oliver met freshman year of high school and bonded over all things horror. He was one of the smartest kids in school, but he never liked being there and didn't see the point in it. He eventually dropped out junior year. He was a jack of all trades, but to say he was a master of none would be a bold face lie. Anything he put his mind to, he could conquer. When he found out that you joined the family business and knew you needed help, he was in, no questions asked.

"Good morning, sunshine. I made coffee and got us bagels. I've been doing research on what could possibly be behind all this shit that's going on here in Eerie and I can't fucking figure it out. I may have to reach out to some of the surrounding covens and The Dead Rouges." Oliver explained without looking up from his laptop.

"Ollie.. How long have you been up?" Your brows furrowed.

"Y/N, bold of you to assume I actually slept. I tried, but I couldn't. I've been researching all night and doing some coding. I also finished a few theses, so the bills are paid for the month, and we have enough money for groceries and necessities." Oliver peered over his screen.

"Oh! Look at my hard-working man! Bringing home the bacon while he lets his beautiful girl pursue her dreams." You joked

"Y/N, you know I don't have an issue with paying for things. You're my best friend, and we're in this til the end, but you have to have a backup plan after you're done with this. You should really think about hiring one or two people to run the store while you're out there saving the world." Oliver sighed.

"Ollie, you and I both know I'm not making it to retirement. I'm pretty sure I'll join the 27 club." You let out a sad chuckle.

"You're not leaving me here by myself! You're going to be old and gray when you die!" He exclaimed.

"How can I be of service to you, Lord Vecna?" Kas asked grimly.

Years had passed since Eddie was left in the upside-down with one foot in the grave. There is where Vecna found him and made him a vampire, creating him a new identity, Kas the Bloody Handed. He grew into the name, but there was still a bit of Eddie left tucked away.He is now the lieutenant in Vecna's army.

"Hmm? Ah, yes. There is this girl…a slayer. She's been meddling into my plans. I've decided to pull back and recalculate, until she's out of the way. Kas, I need you to get rid of our little pest." Explained Vecna.

"Yeah? What are we talking about?"

"Be creative if you want. I just want her life force to cease."

"Understood."

Since the disappearances and killings stopped, there wasn't much to investigate locally, and it was pretty quiet in other regions. You took up what Oliver suggested and hired two people to help run the store, Lydia and Harvey. They were knowledgeable in several music genres, alternative fashion, and even some of the other types of products in the shop. Because you had a lot of down time, you started to let your guard down and had a routine going. Kas was tracking your every move.

It was a slow Saturday night like always, and you had 30 minutes to kill. You decided to take a smoke break out front. You stepped outside and felt the warm summer breeze blow against your face. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in.

"Nice night, isn't it?" You heard a voice.

You quickly opened your eyes to see a guy who seemed to be stuck in the 80s, possibly early 90s. He had chocolate brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair.. He sported a gorgeous smile that revealed dimples. He was carrying a guitar case on his back. You also noticed his obsidian guitar pick pendant around his neck. If you had to guess, he was definitely a musician —one of your top three types that made your brain turn to mush with all logical thinking gone out the window.

"Oh, yeah! I love nights like this. I used to take this weather for granted until I worked a few summers down south." You smiled nervously.

He returned the smile. Even though he kept close tabs on you, he hadn't been close enough to really get a good look at you. He could tell you were conventionally attractive from afar, but now that he was up close, he was awestruck. He was almost at a loss for words, but he knew what he was here to do.

"I saw this place on my way into town. I figured I'd stop in to take a look after I got settled in. I'm Kas, by the way." He gave a toothy grin as he extended his hand.

"Y/N, nice to meet you." You took his ring clad hand to shake.

Kas was able to read your thoughts as soon as he took your hand in his. 'Ugh, this guy is so hot! Like, is he even real?! Girl, calm down!'

If Kas could blush, he would have. He didn't have great luck with girls when he was Eddie. Once he became a vampire, finding love was no longer important. He came to terms that he would roam the upside-down and all conquered worlds alone until the end of time. He didn't let your thoughts cloud his mind. He was here to kill you and nothing more.

You noticed his touch was like ice as you quickly pulled back.

"Sorry, sometimes my hands tend to get cold due to being anemic." He explained with a nervous smile.

"Oh, no worries. Would you like to come in and take a look around? I have plenty of music, band merch, and tons of miscellaneous items."

Kas smiled to himself, thinking this was going to be easy. He didn't have to ask to be invited in, and you believed the anemic excuse. You were practically serving yourself on a silver platter for him.

"Sooo you’re giving off a 80’s metal head vibe." Your eyebrow raised.

"Well, you got that right."He chuckled.

"Awesome! Not sure if you're a collector or not, but I have something you may like. I only bring this out for the right people, but no one has cared to take it off my hands. Stay right here!" You run to the back to rummage through a closet.

You came back and laid out a shirt on the counter for Kas.

"Vintage 1985 Metallica 'Ride The Lightning' tour shirt. Tour dates on the back."

Kas turned the shirt over and found the date for Indiana. A smile came to his face as the memories came flooding back.

"This.. this was a great show." He whispered.

"Oh? Kas, you don't look a day over 23. There's no way you're in your 50s. If so, I need your skin care routine." You joked.

Kas didn't realize he said that out loud. He had to think quickly.

"Oh! Haha, no. I meant it in a second-hand experience way. My uncle Wayne went to this show, and he would tell me every chance he got about how amazing it was." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How much do you want for it?" He asked.

"Hmm…just take it. The price I'm asking for, no one wants to pay, and it'll just keep on collecting dust. Maybe you can give it to your uncle." You smiled.

"Thanks! I..I would, but unfortunately, he passed a few years ago. I'm actually on my way to Hawkins to visit his grave and see a few friends. I thought I'd stop here for a few days to veg out beforehand."

"Oh…I just assumed.. I'm sorry for your loss. Hawkins? I've never heard of that town."

" S' okay, he went peacefully. Oh.. it's a real small town west of here. You blink and you'll miss it type of place." He explained.

"Ah, okay. Well, Kas, it's getting late and I need to close up. You're more than welcome to stop by tomorrow if you want to look around some more."

"Oh! I'm sorry for keeping you! I didn't realize it was getting late. Yeah, I'll definitely come back to look around." He winked.

"See ya, Y/N." Kas walked out the door, got in his van, and headed back to the motel."

He got distracted by the shirt and the kind gesture from you. He completely forgot what he came to do. He was really wanting to make this quick, but another day in Eerie wouldn't hurt.

When he got settled into bed, the memories of Hawkins came rushing back. He hated the town, but he missed Wayne, his friends, and Corroded Coffin. Unfortunately, Wayne did actually pass away, heart attack on the job. Everyone he knew moved away and went into hiding, and every so often, Kas would visit them unbeknownst to them. He wanted to make sure they were okay. They were all doing fine, living lowkey lives. Hawkins didn't exist anymore, just a shell of its former self.

Then you ran across his mind. When he closed his eyes, a vivid picture of your face popped up. He could still hear your voice. Out of all your features, he was fixated on your lips. The thought of kissing them quickly ran across his mind. He let out a hiss as his fangs protruded.

'Kas! You're here on business! Pull yourself together! She's nothing to you, just another body to add.'

'Body.. her body. I wonder…'

Kas grabbed a book from his bag to help get his mind off you. It helped, several pages in, his lids got heavy, and he fell asleep. Of course, you were the first thing on his mind when he woke up.

When you got home Oliver was in the living room finishing up a movie. He had asked you how your day was and you went into full detail about your run in with Kas.

"Ollie, he's soooo gorgeous! There's just something about him that I can't quite put my finger on, but I don't get a bad vibe at all!" You squealed with excitement.

"So he's originally from a town called Hawkins that neither of us have ever heard of? Where does he live now?" Oliver asked.

"Umm, I didn't ask?" You grimaced.

"Well, be careful, Y/N." he sighed.

"I'm always careful, Ollie." You smirked.

It was noon the next day. The store was a madhouse. You forgot that the store was holding its annual sale. Really good deals and discounts and some customers would even barter with rare items you were looking for. You had to call Oliver to help out where he could.

You found yourself leaning over the glass counter as your anxiety started to kick in. The door chimed for the millionth time that day. You heard his voice. It was calm and centering. You looked up to meet his gaze.

"Hey, Y/N, it's really crazy in here. You alright?" Kas asked.

"Oh, hey! Umm yes…no. I forgot today was our big sale, but this has been the busiest it's ever been…a bit overwhelming for me right now." You explained with worry in your voice.

"Hmm, have you had lunch? Do you need a break? I can kidnap you if you want? Just say the word." Kas lowered his voice as he leaned in close to you.

"Who's your new friend?" Oliver asked, emerging from the sea of customers.

"Ollie, this is Kas. Kas, this is my roommate and best friend Oliver."

"Nice to meet you, Kas." Oliver gave a slight smile.

"Hey Ollie, I'm going to take lunch. You got this, yeah? "

"Yeah, sure thing, Y/N. Oliver sighed.

You grabbed Kas’ arm and practically dragged him out the door.

“Where to now? What are you hungry for, sweetheart?” Kas inquired.

“Sweetheart,huh?” You giggled.

“Sorry, just a slip of the tongue. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all.” You gave a toothy smile with warm cheeks.

“There’s a Burger Barn down the road. They have the best chili cheese fries and cherry limeade."

"Then Burger Barn it is! Hop in sweetheart. You can be the navigator." Kas winked.

"Dude, I get you aren't hungry, but I can't believe you ate at the motel's café and lived!"

"Haha, it was edible. I'll be okay." Kas chuckled.

Truth was, he was starting to get hungry. He hadn't fed since the night before last. He was starting to regret not killing you last night. He would be back in the upside-down and full as a tick. He started to wonder what you would taste like.

"Earth to Kas! Hey, buddy, snap outta it!" You clapped your hands in front of his face.

"Sorry.” He shook his head.

“You good, Kas?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You ready to get back to work?”

“Nope, but alas I have to go back. The store needs me." You pouted.

"Thank you, Kas. I really appreciate your kind gesture in the store."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

"Hey, Kas… I know you're not here for long, and we barely know each other, but…would you like to come over later and…maybe.. watch a movie or listen to some music?" You looked down, pulling at the loose hem on your shirt.

Kas tilted your chin up with his forefinger and thumb to meet your eyes.

"I would actually like that. I'll tell you my whole life story and you can tell me yours. I'm sure you have some interesting things to tell me. " He grinned.

'She's so fucking gorgeous…. If only this was a different time..' Kas thought to himself.

"C'mon doll, let's get you back."

You gave Kas your address and number when he dropped you off. The crowd of customers had dwindled to a few people. You helped recover the store while Oliver was headed out to meet some friends. At 7, you left Harvey and Lydia to close. You thanked them and told them you'd see them tomorrow.

It was 8:30 when you heard a knock at the door. You practically ran to open it to greet Kas. You welcomed him in, gave him a small house tour.

"Would you like a beer or something else to drink?" You offered.

"A beer is fine." Kas nodded.

You grabbed a few beers and headed to the living room, both choosing a seat at opposite ends of the couch. Kas had asked you to introduce him to some new music so you put on a Spotify playlist for him. You shared a few random facts with every song. He listened to and watched you intently, noticing how your face came to life and your eyes lit up.

"You're really into music, like into it, into it. You should pursue whatever you just did professionally." Kas smiled.

"Well, I wanted to create and write my own music magazine when I was in high school. I wrote about some of the local high school bands I knew and even did interviews with some. Unfortunately, the family business called, so here we are." You sighed.

"So the store is a family thing, yeah?"

"Hhmm? Oh! Yes, the store has been in my family for generations. It started as a general store, but my parents turned it into a music store in the 80s and then added the rest throughout the years." You explained nervously.

Kas could hear your heartbeat palpitating. He would have known that you were lying regardless if he already knew or not that you were a slayer.

"Well, I'm sure you could still do that. You still have time. You have a whole life ahead of you."

The words escaped his mouth before his brain had time to process what he said. He felt a bit of guilt after he realized. This was a new feeling for him as Kas as he didn't know what to think of it.

As the night went on, you found yourself sharing one of the saddest times in your life where you lost your grandma and your mother close together. Your grandmother was in her mid-90s, but she was just as vibrant as ever when she passed. Your mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. The doctors didn't give her much time to live. She stuck around for 7 years after the diagnosis, she said she didn't want to come back for unfinished business. They passed within 3 months of each other, and it was just a dark time for you. Luckily, you had Oliver to help you.

Kas shared Eddie's story of how he ended up living with Wayne. His father was a career criminal. He could never understand what his mom saw in his dad. He remembers the day that his father beat his mom into a coma in a drunken rage. His mother was trying to protect him from his father's abusive words that would sometimes become physical. He recalled times his father handed out corporal punishments for the most miniscule issues. His mother never woke from her coma, and by that point, Wayne was already in the process of becoming Eddie's guardian.

"Sorry, didn't mean to trauma dump on you and bring this night down." He apologized.

"You didn't bring anything down. Everyone needs someone to talk to. I just happen to be a great listener." You smiled.

"Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me."

There was silence. You both somehow migrated to the middle of the couch throughout the night. Your fingers found each other, yours gliding over his. Your thoughts were coming in like someone was changing stations on a radio. Kas' eyes met yours, and in that moment, he felt a calmness wash over him, and all he wanted to do was kiss you.

He brushed your heated cheek with his finger — his cold touch sent a shiver down your spine, making your body shudder. As Kas went to pull back his hand, you grabbed him by the wrist and placed his hand on your cheek.

"I like when you touch me. Please don't stop." You begged.

Kas swallowed hard.

"O..okay.."

For the first time in years, he was unsure of himself. He needed to kill you, but his need to taste you was greater. He leaned closer to your face — he was also solving math problems in his head in order for him to stay under control. Your lips crashed into each other, parted, inviting the other in. Kas pressed his body into yours while caressing the back of your neck, the other running up and down your thigh. Your whole body was buzzing with excitement.

Kas moved from your mouth to your neck. He gently kissed down the side, and you let out a breathy moan. Kas' eyes shot open, pupils dilated as soon as his fangs protruded. He quickly picked up where he left off in his head. When his fangs retracted right after, he sat back up and dared not to look you in the eyes.

"Kas, are you okay?"

"Y/N, thank you for inviting me over. I had a great time, but I need to leave."

He quickly got up from the couch and practically ran out the door to his van, not giving you a chance to call for him. You got up as soon as you could and ran to the door just to see the image of his tail lights getting smaller as he drove down the road.

When Kas got back to his room, he took a look in the mirror. Where deep chocolate brown eyes once were, pools of black and shimmering crimson took their place. He cursed at his reflection and then sent his fist into the mirror, sending a few shards onto the floor. He didn't want to feel this way. He should have ended you the first night at the shop. You didn't even notice he was there until he spoke, it would have been quick and easy. Kas quickly grabbed his belongings and left to Hawkins to put some miles in between you and him. Once he got there, he entered a gate to the upside-down and gathered himself. The next time he saw you, it would be your last day alive.

"Y/N! Wake up!" Oliver yelled, shaking you out of your sleep.

"What the fuck, Ollie? The house better be on fire." You mumbled.

You got up and met Oliver in the study. He paced back and forth. There was a folder on the desk.

"Open it."

"You woke me up for a folder?? This couldn't have waited until the morning, Oliver?"

"Y/N, I really need you to open this. I wouldn't wake you up for nothing."

"Alright, Ollie. You owe me breakfast if this is something that could have waited."

You opened the folder to find a missing person flyer from 1986. The person looked exactly like Kas, but the name read Edward Munson.

"Ollie,...wha.. what is this?"

"Y/N. I'm not sure. After you told me about Kas and Hawkins, I asked The Dead Rouges to see what they could find when I couldn't find much in the Black Hellfire archives. This is what they gave me. Something weird happened in March of 1986 in that town. There's names of friends listed there. Hawkins is a ghost town. It's not even listed on current maps anymore." He explained.

"This has to be like a family member, like his uncle Wayne."

"Look at the bottom, Y/N."

'Please contact Wayne Munson,' you read.

"This is definitely him, Y/N. I'm not sure how, but it is. Dead Rouges are still trying to get information on what happened in Hawkins and trying to locate his friends. Unfortunately, Wayne Munson passed away in 1995, so we can't ask him anything."

"This doesn't make sense."

"In our line of work, does anything really ever make sense?" Oliver chuckled nervously.

Your phone rang. You were hoping it was Kas, but when you picked up, it was a lieutenant that was at your store. A puzzled look came across your face, then panic set in. You hung up quickly and grabbed your keys.

"Ollie, I need you to drive to the store. Something bad happened." You tossed him the keys.

Oliver nodded and quickly did as he was told.

When you arrived at the store, there were flashing lights and cops everywhere. They had marked off the entrance of the store along with the sidewalk and a few parking spaces. You were greeted by Lieutenant Riley as you made your way to the crime tape.

"Ms. Y/L/N, I'm sorry to meet you under these conditions. There's no other way to put this, but there are two deceased people in the store. There's a lot of blood throughout it. This may have been a robbery that took a turn for the worst."

"Umm, are.. are they my employees? They should have closed up hours ago." You were fighting the lump in your throat and choking back tears.

"They're actually bringing them out now. Please come with me to identify the bodies, and we'll notify the next of kin." Lt. Riley motioned to the sidewalk.

The medical examiner was waiting for you while you were escorted to the sidewalk.

"Are you ready?" Asked Lt. Riley.

You sighed and nodded. They unzipped the body bags to reveal Lydia and Harvey. You weren't unfamiliar with death, but seeing their faces left you gasping for air. When you finally caught it, you let out a soul crushing wail. You hadn't known them for long, but you knew they were good people who had loved ones, they had a life outside this store. You mindlessly walked and pushed past the crime scene tape into the middle of the parking lot where you sat down and sobbed. This left Oliver to identify the bodies.

Oliver noticed that their throats were ripped to shreds. He didn't buy the robbery that went awry. The police will probably keep this under wraps like they always do. Luckily, you had a connection on the inside.

Oliver helped you up and got you to the car. It wasn't a long ride home, but it felt like years to get there. You and Oliver had a glass of bourbon to take the edge off.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. Are you going to be okay?"

"Honestly…no. They didn't deserve that. Did you notice? "

Oliver nodded.

"That was definitely a vampire attack, like one that hasn't fed for a while. I need to reach out to some other slayers and see if they're experiencing any activity."

"Already ahead of you. I also sent out the info we know to Dead Rouges, all the covens in a 100-mile radius. I even reached out to your dad."

"Ollie, we have a better chance catching bigfoot than hearing from that man."

"Yeah, well, we need to use all of our resources. Let's get to bed and start on this with a fresh mind tomorrow."

You give Oliver a nod in agreement.

"Hey, Ollie…can I sleep with you?"

"Of course." He gave a sad smile.

"C'mon, I'll let you have the right side."

That night sleep came to you quickly, but it wasn't restful. You tossed and turned while you dreamt of saving Lydia and Harvey. You couldn't see who attacked them, but you failed every way imaginable trying to save them. Once you accepted failure, you woke up in a cold sweat.

"What did you see?" A groggy Oliver asked.

You could tell you didn't let him get any sleep.

"I'm sorry, Ollie."

You paused for a moment.

"I couldn't save them, I tried every which way. I couldn't see who attacked them. I failed them." Your voice trembled.

Oliver pulled you closer to him.

"Shhh..let's not do that. You're a slayer…The Slayer. You fight now and mourn after. We have help, and I have someone reviewing all the recordings from the store surveillance."

"What would I do without you?" You sniffled.

"Oh, make very poor decisions, love. Now let's get some sort of rest. We have to be at our best for Lydia and Harvey. I feel like there's a whole can of worms we're about to open."

As soon as you closed your eyes, you drifted back to sleep. It was the most peaceful sleep you had in ages.

When you awoke, all the events of yesterday replayed in your head. You wanted to kick, scream, and cry. You forced yourself out of bed and did your morning routine before meeting Oliver in the kitchen.

Once you got to the kitchen, a strange, large man rose from the kitchen table. Oliver turned around and gave you a smile to assure you everything was okay.

"Y/N, this is Kane. I had him review the surveillance. He has some news for us."

"Good morn.." You glanced at the clock '1:30 pm'.

"Erm good afternoon, Kane. So tell us what you found please."

"I think it's best to show you." Kane suggested.

He opened his laptop and played the recording for you and Oliver.

"At first, I couldn't figure it out. The video just shows them acknowledging the door being opened, and then you see them both being attacked." Kane explained.

They looked like they were fighting the invisible man, being pulled around the store, blood splattering everywhere.

"I eventually saw a blur at the halfway mark. I ended up slowing this down. So let me click here right before with the slowed version."

As the frames played one by one, you finally saw who was behind this. You were shocked when Kas showed up on screen. You didn't want to believe it, but then everything else made sense. How could you have been so blind to not know?

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Oliver whispered as he hugged you.

"Friend?" Kane asked.

"Not anymore." You stormed off to your room.

Oliver took over operations while you stewed in your room.

You went from crying to raging and screaming to sitting in silence. This went on until you finally passed out, but before you did, you heard three loud chimes.

You found yourself in complete darkness.

'Hmm, looks like The Bloody Handed didn't complete his mission.' Vecna's disembodied voice rang in the darkness.

'Who are you?! What the fuck is going on?! Who the fuck is The Bloody Handed?!' You demanded.

Suddenly, Vecna appeared.

You recognized him immediately.

'You! You were in my dream!'

As soon as you take your fighting stance, you see the vine-like things from your dream emerge from Vecna. They quickly grab you around your wrist and ankle, suspending you in the air.

'What the fuck?! Put me down you fucking monstrous tumor!' You yelled, struggling to get loose.

Another one of those things covered your mouth.

'My, such a filthy mouth for such a beautiful girl. I didn't think your beauty would have been a distraction for my lieutenant…Kas The Bloody Handed. Obviously, he spent some time with you as well, or we wouldn't be here right now. Your town would have been taken over by the upside-down.'

Your eyes widen. You tried to fight harder to break free. Another one of Vecna's tentacles wrapped around your neck, slowly squeezing.

'As much as I want to kill you myself and have Kas witness what he couldn't finish, I cannot relieve him of his duty. Though I sense he no longer wants to be tasked with this, I'll have to remind him of who he is. And when that time comes, he will spill your blood, and I will experience great pleasure at that sight. '

'Sweet dreams, Slayer.'

Vecna released you, and your body dropped. As soon as you hit the floor, you woke up gasping for air in Oliver's arms.

"Y/N, what the hell happened? After Kane left, I heard you talking to someone, so I came in and saw you floating in the air like you were in a trance. What are these marks in your body? You okay??" Asked Oliver with brows knitted.

You quickly get up and examine yourself in the mirror. There are marks where Vecna held you and around your neck.

"This isn't just a can of worms, Ollie. I think we may have gotten ourselves into some serious shit." You turned towards Oliver.

"I'm with you to the end, Y/N."

Divider- @silkholland

#Spotify #eddie munson #kas the bloody handed #kas x slayer #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #kas!eddie #eddie munson x reader

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1kook · 4 years

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commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan. warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart.

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least.

—

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jeongguk smut #mine

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 6, All-New Halloween Spooktacular!

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Halloween is afoot in Westview and it’s a must to partake in the festivities. Unfortunately, things are a little rocky in the Maximoff house with Wanda’s brother Pietro visiting, [Y/N] moving in, and Vision and Wanda’s rough patch continuing. Can Halloween relieve some tension at home or will things continue to crumble?

Word count: 7,760

Warnings: None! Just maybe a possibly poorly made Rocky Horror Picture Show reference because I’ve never actually seen it, lol. Also a slight change in format because I just realized now that Tumblr wasn’t taking my page breaks between scenes; sorry for that in previous episodes.

Taglist: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend @austynparksandpizza @sophster1881 @haileyybird @maceidelic @alexpress @angelvinella

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~~~

Living in Westview after having your memories partially restored was a very strange experience and you quickly realized why Vision would “turn people back off” after jogging their memories; things just didn’t quite make sense when you had the combined knowledge of the outside world and the bubbled Westview and it was almost more confusing and uncomfortable to experience it this way. For example, you couldn’t be sure whether it had been days or weeks since you’d regained your memories and Wanda and Vision had decided to have you move in with them, or why all of Westview had changed from an 80s aesthetic to a 90s one. What was especially weird was how people would randomly stop and talk into space as if they were talking to a camera in a TV show, but there was nothing to see when you looked in that direction. With your memories not fully intact even now, it hadn’t done much to help your and Vision’s investigation into what was going on in Westview or outside of it either—before whatever Wanda had done to Westview, you were a bit of a recluse and had suffered dementia in the past, so what memories had been returned was mostly irrelevant—and Wanda, who was still perfectly happy with living in almost ignorant bliss, wasn’t much help. The two of you continued seeking out the strange and trying to put pieces together but it was becoming increasingly difficult and the chaos of making space for you, Wanda’s brother returning, and now Halloween wasn’t helping.

There was also the desire to ignore it all and go back to playing house. Like now, as you were heading back into the house from the backyard—you had been finishing up repairs on Vision’s failed attempt at building the kids a treehouse—when you heard Tommy and Billy chatting. Their voices faded in further as you opened the back door.

“Wrong!” Tommy was saying into space. When you looked, there was still no person, no camera like in a sitcom. “Halloween’s about candy. And scaring people, but mostly candy.”

“Where’s your costume, Tommy?” Billy asked his brother. As you stepped inside, he looked over Tommy’s head at you and smiled.

“This is my costume. I’m the cool twin.”

You put your hands on your hips and made an exaggerated surprised face in Billy’s direction, pretending as if this was the first time you’ve ever heard Tommy tease his brother. Billy’s smile widened slightly before he looked away, acting like you weren’t there except for a glance or two. Tommy didn’t seem to notice your presence quite yet.

“What does that make me?” Billy said.

Tommy hummed and cocked his head to one side; you could almost picture the flashback going on in his head before he looked back at Billy and replied matter-of-factly, “A dorkasaurus rex.”

“Not a real dinosaur,” Billy said with a scowl, then went back to his task of scooping his and Tommy’s lunch into bowls.

“And mean,” you piped up.

Tommy squealed and jumped away from where you were standing behind him. He spun around and almost flung himself into the kitchen counter but jerked away just quickly enough. Then he stumbled back in the opposite direction, resulting in running into your legs. Or, he would have, if you hadn’t caught him by the shoulders and stopped his floundering. He looked up and you with wide eyes.

“Oh, hey, [Y/N],” he said casually, trying to cover up his embarrassment with coolness.

“Heya, kiddo,” you chirped back with a smile. You ran a hand over his hair and leaned down to give him a peck on the forehead. He responded with a grossed-out face and a “Blech!” so you decided to mess up his hair by ruffling it. You grinned as he flailed his way to freedom, then pointed and said, “Don’t be a little shit to your brother.”

Tommy grinned, most likely because of your use of a curse word, and attempted to flatten his hair back in place.

“[Papa/Mama/Nopa]!” Billy, who was much less like his uncle and much more like his parents than Tommy, was perfectly fine with getting a kiss on the cheek after trotting over and throwing himself into your waiting arms, despite still making a face when you did so. He laughed when you hauled him into your arms and cradled him like a baby, something you didn’t get to do nearly enough before they’d aged themselves up, and happily kicked his legs.

Tommy rushed over to be included and you adjusted to holding Billy around the stomach with one arm and picked his brother up with your other. Holding them both with their backs against your chest now, you spun around a few times and the boys laughed and kicked their feet out. You were careful to swing them high enough off the ground that they wouldn’t hit anything and hollered, “My boysss!”

Then a snore came from the living room, reminding you that there was still someone in the house that didn’t wake up at a reasonable hour. You made a cringing face at the twins as you stopped and they covered their giggling mouths while you put them down. They scrambled back over to the kitchen counter to finish getting their food while you paused and looked over at the couch with hands on your hips. “He sure knows how to sleep, huh?”

Pietro Maximoff had shown up on Wanda and Vision’s doorstep the same night you’d regained your powers, the same night that they’d asked you to move in. As soon as you’d seen him in the doorway from your blanket nest on the couch, something about him was off. You were aware that you weren’t supposed to know him yet by Westview rules, so it wasn’t all that strange that he didn’t recognize you from Sokovia—or maybe you just hadn’t been as memorable to him as you had to his sister, which would make sense since he wasn’t the one you were kissing and sleeping in the same bed as—but what mainly bothered you was that the face in front of you and the face in your memories didn’t match… at all. Westview’s Pietro was a completely different person than the one you remembered from a HYDRA testing base, you had been sure of it, although now that you’d lived with the man for however long it’s been, this new face was becoming interchangeable with the old one in your mind. Not only was the confusion about his appearance weird but there was something about his energy that was just wrong; when he’d introduced himself to you that night, you’d seen and felt yellow, burnt at the edges by a soul-sucking black, radiating from him.

All this to note and nothing to come of it so far. Pietro was a bit of a troublemaking deadbeat, albeit a good-natured guy, who slept on the couch and didn’t wake up until anywhere from noon to four in the afternoon. He got along well with the twins, especially Tommy, and other than seeming disgruntled about him taking up space, Vision didn’t seem too bothered by his presence. Wanda didn’t seem threatened or bothered by Pietro being around at all either, except for worrying about him causing trouble; she hadn’t reacted any type of way to him showing up on her doorstep that night at all, other than inviting him inside, which was the only reason you were able to relax around him for the time being.

Tommy and Billy walked past you with bowls in their hands. You gave them each a pat on the head as they went and only stopped Billy to complement the Halloween costume that he wore. He smiled and asked what you were wearing and you were surprised to realize that you hadn’t yet come up with one. You told him to keep a suggestion in mind and sent him after his brother, who was looking on at the snoring mess of a couch-Pietro in admiration.

“Man,” the longer-haired boy said, “he even snores cool.”

You made a face. You weren’t so sure about that.

“I’m gonna wake him up.”

“Don’t!” Billy startled, holding his twin back with a hand on his chest.

Tommy grinned. “You scared?”

“He’s our uncle. Why would I be scared?”

“‘Cause it’s four o’clock in the afternoon and you’re secretly afraid he’s a vampire.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You looked on at the bickering boys with mild amusement while you got yourself a fruit from the kitchen until movement from the couch drew your attention. Pietro, who was awake now, was slowly shifting around and getting into a sitting position. When he was where he could see you, he gave you a smirk that spelled out nothing but trouble, then winked. You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet.

In less than a minute, Pietro went from tangled in his blanket on the couch to standing in front of Tommy and Billy, yelling something about blood. The boys unsurprisingly screamed, and then the three of them were running around the living room in Halloween-fueled chaos.

You stood at the kitchen counter, cutting your fruit of choice into slices and unreactive other than a little smile toying at your lips.

“Oh,” came a mildly irritated voice as Wanda descended the stairs from the house’s second floor, “somebody better be bleeding, broken, or on fire.”

You attempted to catch a glimpse of her from your place in the kitchen but all you could see was a flash of a red cape. You grinned and hurried to finish slicing and clean up so you could join the others in the living room.

“Whoa, Mom,” Billy said, “Are you old Red Riding Hood?”

There was a moment of silence and you could easily picture the surprised look on your partner’s face before she responded, “No, I am not old Red Riding Hood. [Y/N]’s mother made my costume. Said something about a goddess…?”

Just as you were coming around the corner with your bowl, Wanda trailed off and leaned in your direction for confirmation. You had to force yourself not to stare at the simple but delicious costume she wore, the form-fitting red unitard and pink leggings, for the sake of the other company in the room. Instead, you walked over and slipped an arm around her hips underneath the cape and gave her a nod. “Aphrodite, specifically. She was so excited to hear about my girlfriend that she just couldn’t help herself. Gorgeous and powerful costume for a gorgeous and powerful woman, yeah?” You paused to give Wanda’s shoulder a smooch and waggle your brows at her, much to the twins’ and Pietro’s grossed-out dismay, before you adjusted Wanda’s headpiece and continued, “This rendition of Aphrodite, I think, is actually from a drawing I did of her as a kid, because yes, I was never not a nerd. Mom was so focused on you that she practically forgot about me.”

You knew that for the most part, the story wasn’t true. You knew that beyond the barrier of Westview, your mother was in so state to do such work, nor could she remember you if she wanted to, but something was unnaturally comforting about putting that aside for the time being.

“Wow,” Pietro started, his tone unimpressed, “That is so…”

“Rad!” Tommy exclaimed with a grin.

“…lame.”

“Lame.”

Wanda huffed a bit.

“If it means anything,” you said, pecking Wanda’s cheek, “I think it’s quite well-made.”

Hidden from view behind her cape, you gave her hip a light pinch. That earned you a light slap on the wrist and a look that was equal parts warning and teasing.

Pietro made a gagging noise. “I think it’s worse than the costumes Mom made us the year we got typhus.”

You quirked a brow in Wanda’s direction but as Tommy had done earlier, she tilted her head and stared off into nowhere as she presumably thought back on the subject. Then she squinted and shook her head as she said, “That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

Pietro nodded in understanding. “You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma.”

Well, that was entirely out of left field. You tucked that away in the growing mental file titled “Why New Pietro is Weird.”

Tommy, Billy, and Pietro then broke off into their own conversation. Tommy and Billy went to sit on the couch and eat their food and Pietro went to go get something of his own, while you and Wanda moved out of the way of the stairs.

You took a slice of fruit and popped it into your mouth, then offered her one. She took off one of her long, red gloves and happily took it.

“You do look just… very attractive in that costume of yours,” you said in a low voice after you finished your fruit.

“Is that so?” Wanda gave you another flirty look and casually shimmied her bare shoulders at you and scooting a bit closer. “I can’t wait to see what both of my partners have in store for me.”

You winced slightly but tried to cover it up with a questioning look and a tease. “Was that—? Is that—? Is this flirting, Mrs. Maximoff?”

You couldn’t get anything past her.

“What was that look?” she said, then gasped. “No. [Y/N] [L/N], fashionista, lover of all things bright and colorful and weird, doesn’t have a Halloween costume?”

You glance away, embarrassed. “I’ve just been so busy with moving and getting my house on the market, and it’s been hectic here at home… I forgot! Oh, speaking of which—” You raised your voice a bit. “Billy, costume suggestion?”

“A wizard!” Billy chirped from his place on the couch where he and Tommy were now setting up a video game.

“A ninja!” Tommy suggested.

“A spy!” Pietro hollered as he walked back out of the kitchen with a bowl in hand, which he should in your direction. “By the way, sibling-in-law, mind super-sizing this?”

You scowled at him. “I very much do mind and that’s not at all how my power works, thanks.”

Tommy paused what he was doing on the couch and mumbled, “That would have been such a good idea…”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to Wanda with raised hands and a curious look as the boys settled in to their own world again. “Thoughts? Three ideas, right there.”

Wanda hummed thoughtfully and slowly looked you over. The way her eyes traveled down your body made you shiver.

“Or,” you said quieter, setting down your now-empty bowl on the table behind you and slinked your arms around Wanda’s waist, “I could just be a devotee that is very invested in their work with their goddess, who does their absolute best to follow Aphrodite’s wishes…” You paused and waggled your head a bit as you thought. “Or, you know, a scientist or something.”

Wanda hummed and her hands absentmindedly explored your chest. Before you could focus too much on the way heat followed the path of her fingers, she suddenly perked up and pulled them away to clap once and then waggle her pointer fingers at you. “I know!”

“Oh?” Even as you said it, you felt Wanda’s magic take effect on your current casual work outfit. While the magic wasn’t affecting your body at all, you could feel the tickling of magic and fabric twisting and brushing against your skin.

As you watched, your outdoor clothes transformed into a costume. The sleeves of the simple and somewhat dirtied T-shirt you wore twisted down the length of your arms until they ended at cuffs that were adjustable via silver buttons. The color of the shirt darkened and changed and became red and honey yellow plaid, and a line of usable silver buttons erupted down the center of the shirt’s front; the collar of the shirt flared and stretched into a folded collar of a button-up dress shirt. Not only did your shirt change but another layer appeared on top of it, this being a suede black and white dappled vest whose pattern looked like it was trying to mimic a cow while also trying to avoid infringing on said cow’s copyright. You felt a light pressure around your throat, then something bump against the base of your neck, and upon further investigation, you found a red handkerchief tied around your neck and a dark russet cowboy hat hanging from a leather tie. Your long shorts lengthened and changed color and material into denim jeans, accompanied by a thick leather belt with a large buckle, conveniently accented with a swirling design that involved a W and a V, and two gun holsters that were occupied by plastic versions of the weapon. Finally, on your feet appeared brown cowboy boots with golden spurs to match a golden, comically fake sheriff’s star pinned to your chest.

A couple of thoughts popped into your head as you examined your outfit. First, you couldn’t help but make the connection between the specific shades of red and yellow used on your outfit and the same shades that your partners’ powers took on, plus the WV brand attached to your waist; it was enough to make you snicker. The other thought was how familiar the costume looked, despite mild design changes.

“Am I a knockoff Woody from Toy Story?”

Wanda blinked. “Not… my intention but we did take the boys to see it a couple of weeks ago, so.” She shrugged, then brightened again. “What do you think, Sheriff?”

You leaned back on your heels and rested your hands on your belt—then snorted at how you easily fit into standing like someone out of an old Western movie. Narrowing your eyes at her you said, “Why?”

“It’s fun,” Wanda stated simply, then added, “and colorful. And…” She stepped closer and toyed with the hem of your vest. With a lowered voice, “… I like the cowboy look.”

You forced the smirk pulling at your lips to keep at bay, instead squinting at Wanda and waving your hands around generally. “Is this— Is this your thing? Is Halloween what does it for you?”

Wanda turned her head away as she laughed out loud, which may have brought attention to the two of you if Tommy, Billy, and Pietro weren’t too busy hollering over their game.

“I’m just curious,” you carried on. “It’s fine, I just need to know! For future consideration. Depending on what the preference is, I might just have to put on a little Rocky Horror Picture Show— which isn’t exactly Halloween but you know what I mean.”

Wanda continued to snicker and lightly swatted your chest. Her gaze drifted to look past your shoulder and almost at the same time, you picked up the sound of footsteps making their way downstairs; the last member of your household was finally arriving.

“Now what is going on here?” Vision’s chipper British voice was music to your ears as he made it to the ground floor.

You and Wanda shifted your attention to him—and you immediately started laughing. Vision’s green bodysuit paired with a golden cape and wrestling shorts, and the lopsided paper gem stuck to his forehead to cover his real one, was just too much.

“What?” Vision said, sounding offended, as you had to lean against the table behind you while continuing to cackle. While you looked at him through teary eyes, he put on his best fighting face and threw up his fists to make a few boxing motions. “You think it’s smart to laugh at a world-famous wrestler? I’ll show you!”

You continued to snicker but forced yourself to settle. Wiping your eyes, you quipped back, “We’ll fight and then I’ll use my lasso to tie you up, seems fair to me.”

That made Vision, who was still taking a little time to get used to your boldness, freeze.

One of your favorite things about Vision’s awakening, as you liked to call it, was the gradual change in personality that had come with it. Regaining your past and your abilities also brought a great bout of self-confidence. You couldn’t be sure whether this had been your personality pre-Westview or simply a product of finally putting together a lot of the foggy pieces you’d once been missing but either way, you certainly weren’t complaining. You were still awkward and sometimes just a look from either of your partners could make you turn the color of a strawberry but at least you could manage a tease or flirt without immediately cringing in on yourself, and you certainly weren’t afraid to initiate a smooch.

“Behave,” Wanda scoffed in your direction. She gave Vision a comforting pat on the shoulder, which seemed to set him back on track.

“You started it,” you said with a grin, then stepped closer to try to straighten the fake diamond to no avail. “So. Wrestler?”

“Cowboy?” Vision questioned.

“Sheriff, thank you very much.” You tapped on the badge to make a point.

“My apologies.” Vision said in a teasing tone.

“My wrestler and my cowboy,” Wanda said with a pleased smile.

You squinted at her again. “Seriously. Wrestlers too? I’m fascinated.”

Wanda slapped your shoulder.

Three of you must have caused enough ruckus to break up the house’s other trio because then Pietro appeared at your sides.

“Woah!” the silver-haired man said, “Sweet costume, bro-ham-in-law.”

Your nose scrunched up in a mild cringe. Ew, hated that.

“Let me guess,” Pietro went on, “uh, traffic light.”

Vision sighed. You snorted.

“Half-shucked corn?”

Also a good one.

“A booger!”

And back to ew.

Vision rolled his eyes and gave a begrudging “Yes.”

Pietro fist-pumped the air and danced away in victory.

“By the way,” Wanda said, “thank you for humoring me and wearing this ridiculous get-up, honey.”

“Well, there were no other clothes in my closet, so…” Vision trailed off with a suddenly somber expression, only to break into a teasing smile a moment later. “You are incorrigible, darling. I know you have a secret thing for wrestlers.”

You cackled again as he and Wanda got closer and continued to coo at each other in a way that you found equal parts cute and disgusting. You moved away from them to collect yourself, only to catch their attention.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Wanda said teasingly, “you’ll get your pony-talk too!”

“Please,” you begged with a shaking head and shaking hands, “dear god, no.”

Then Vision waggled his brows at you, hit you with a bad Southern-British combo accent and a pointed “howdy” and you screamed before breaking into laughter yet again.

Vision laughed with you before turning his attention to the boys, while Wanda walked over with a grin and to help you off the ground.

“What do you say, boys?” Vision hollered. “Who’s ready for that first hit of high fructose corn syrup?”

The kids and Pietro kept hollering over their video game.

“I hated every second of that,” you said to Wanda as she helped you to your feet.

Wanda gave you a playful pout, then her smile returned as she straightened the handkerchief tied around your neck. When she was satisfied, she moved the hat from behind your back and onto your head. “You chose this.”

“Mm.” You hummed and nodded while fixing your vest. “I did in fact do that. Lucky me, two for one nerd deal.”

“So, about that Rocky Horror idea…”

You stared at her, bewildered. “What has this day done to you?”

Vision’s attention slowly refocused on you and Wanda as he was getting nowhere with Billy and Tommy, though his eyes still lingered on them and their uncle. “Wanda.”

“Yes, dear?” Wanda chirped, turning her smile to her husband.

“Never told me much about your brother,” Vision said with eyes still trained on the three. “I had no idea he’d be so…” He trailed off as the two boys and one man-child started shotgunning sodas; Vision made a face and gave a thumbs-up as he continued sarcastically, “…great with kids.”

“Yeah,” Wanda replied in a tone that shared his exasperations, “He’s just… full of surprises.”

At this point, you were watching the trio as well. After a pause, you piped up, “I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I think he’s a wonderful role model. Such manners.”

You received the gaze of two pairs of narrowed eyes. You gave them a cheerful smile and quirk of your eyebrows in return.

Vision rolled his eyes and began making his way to the door. “Well, you have fun tonight, darling. [Y/N], will you be joining me later?”

“That’s the plan, beanstalk,” you said. You pinched and tugged the stretchy fabric of his bodysuit and let it snap back into place, earning you a glinting glare.

Then Wanda was following after him, confusion wiping the happy expression off her face. “What? What do you mean? You’re all dressed up and ready to go, where the two of you going?”

Vision stopped faux-boxing your hands away as you continued to try to pick at his outfit to wave his arms around his head. “I’m undercover! Halloween is bacchanal for adolescent trouble-makers and the neighborhood watch is the only thing that stands between the trees and the toilet paper.”

“No,” Wanda said and her eyes blinked rapidly in the way that they did when she was trying to comprehend something that didn’t seem right, “that’s not what you’re supposed to—”

“What?” Vision interrupted in a stern voice, with a pointed look.

“Well…” Wanda crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. Her bewildered eyes darted in your direction just briefly before she turned a scowl on Vision. Lowering her voice a bit, she said, “You didn’t tell me you had plans.”

Vision’s hands rested steadily on his hips and his eyes pointed dull daggers back at her own; it was a stand-off. “Well, I am telling you now.”

I should probably step in, you thought.

“It’s their first Halloween. You have to be there.” Wanda’s gaze turned on you, as did Vision’s in the same moment. “And you too?”

Oh boy.

Your eyes bounced between your one partner’s gaze and then the other’s before it settled between them, where you could see Billy, Tommy, and Pietro’s gaming session had slowed. Billy was talking into a nonexistent camera and you could pick out enough words that what he was talking about were his mom and dad. Pietro was glancing around like he was supposed to be doing something and he even began to stand and make his way over—before you hit him with a warning glare and mouthed “no” that had him glued back to his couch seat.

“Not to throw shade at Vision,” you offered, stepping closer and directing Wanda and Vision a few steps farther away from the rest of the household, “which I’m not doing, FYI, but I will be around for most of the festivities. A surrogate Vision, if you will.”

Both of their gazes softened a bit and Wanda opened her mouth to start her tri-parent inclusive spiel but you smiled and waved both her and Vision off.

“I know already, I know, I was just teasing. Wanda, my love,” you continued and turned your attention to her as you moved your hand from her shoulder to her own, “Vision is a neighborhood watch member and I do believe that all the dads of the cul-de-sac are taking part in… watching over the neighborhood during Halloween. You know how kids—and crazy uncles—can be. And I’m just trying to offer my help because let’s face it, I still haven’t exactly made the best of impressions like you two have managed to.”

Wanda tilted her head from side to side, no doubt remembering your interactions with Dottie that she was present for or perhaps your horror stories of previous attempts at impressing the watch, before giving a resigned nod.

“So, I’ll be here, Pietro will be here, Vision will be around and just doing his job, and everything is going to be fine and fun and… the bomb— Ew, did not like that, and if I ever say it again, please send me to the gallows or whatever cowboys punish people with.”

“Guns, usually,” Vision mumbled.

You snickered. “Well, mine are plastic, so my bad, but anyway—”

Wanda huffed a bit gave you a dismissive wave before you could ramble further. “Fine, fine. But you have to promise that we’ll at least spend the night together afterward.”

That last part was directed at Vision, who responded with a nod. Then he cupped a yellow gloved hand around the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Of course, I promise, darling.”

Wanda, still upset, reacted very little but she didn’t stop him.

Vision straightened up and directed his attention to Tommy and Billy, who were back to loudly playing their game. Making an ominous gesture with his arms as he backed towards the door, he said to them, “You have a spoo-OO-ooky time tonight, kids.”

“Goodnight, Dad!” Billy hollered, with Tommy saying “Bye, Dad” at the same moment. Neither boy looked away from their TV screen.

“Wanda,” Vision said softly to her, “be good.”

As he passed you, he leaned down to give you a peck as well, but you caught him by the cape and kissed his jaw first. As you pulled back, you grumbled, “Be back, Vis.”

His gaze quickly trailed across your face before he gave you a nod and a kiss on the lips. Then he stepped away—and jumped into a strange, half-pouncing pose and said, “I smell crime,” before shuffling his way out the front door.

“I smell bellyaches in the morning,” you said to no one particular as you shut the door behind him.

Wanda trailed after you, frowning, and her hand lingered on the door.

“Hey.” You took her hand and brought it to your lips to kiss each fingertip as she turned your attention to you. “It’ll be okay.”

Now Wanda’s eyes traced a path across your face before meeting your eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

You replied simply, “I have faith in you and Vision more than I do in anyone else.”

Wanda nodded slowly and took her hand back. She turned around, was greeted by Pietro with a scary face and a bottle of shaving cream in each hand, and screamed. She jumped back against you and you circled your arms protectively around her waist. She scolded her twin, “Don’t do that!”

Pietro snickered. “Where do you keep your water balloons?”

“What?” Wanda’s brows furrowed. “We don’t have water balloons.”

“Where are we gonna put all this shaving cream?” Pietro asked, raising the large cans for her to see. He glanced at you where your chin was resting on Wanda’s shoulder.

You gave him a slight nod, then lightly jutted your chin in the direction of the kitchen. “Backyard,” you mouthed, “Shed.”

Pietro grinned.

Wanda scoffed and gave your cheek a light swat. “Don’t encourage him!”

You snickered and smooched her cheek.

Tommy walked over with an opened plastic bag in hand; Pietro used this as an excuse. Pointing a finger at the boy, he said, “It was Billy’s idea.”

“I’m Tommy.”

“And I’m heading back to the house,” you added in. You peeled yourself away from Wanda after giving her a couple more teasing kisses, despite Tommy and Pietro’s gagging responses, and continued, “I’m going to try to get a couple more boxes packed, want to be done by the weekend. See you in an hour or so?”

“How dare you leave me with these monsters,” Wanda said goodnaturedly.

You shrugged as you opened the front door and began backing out of it.

“Don’t worry,” you said, then gave your partner a smirk and a wink, “you’re a goddess, after all.”

===

You were humming casually as you walked down the street. You kept a close eye on Tommy and Billy as they walked slightly ahead of you, chatting about candy, and a familiar tug in your stomach told you that Wanda and Pietro were still walking just behind you.

Suddenly Tommy and Billy ran off. Pietro yelled the mildly concerning encouragement of “Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Wanda let out a worried holler of your name but you were already heading after the boys.

“I got ‘em!” you hollered with a wave over your shoulder. You jogged after them and scooped them into the air from behind, shaking them around as they giggled. Setting them down again, you followed them up to a house, narrowly avoiding other kids and parents. “You’re not supposed to run off, you know.”

“It’s okay,” Billy stated, “Mom will take care of us.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed, “she’s magic!”

You snorted. “That doesn’t mean give her a harder time just because of it.”

The three of you reached the opened door of the house. An older woman dressed as a fairytale queen stood in the doorway, holding a bowl full of candy goodies that she lowered for Tommy and Billy to grab from. You glanced at them to see Tommy shoveling twice as much candy as he should into his bag and rolled your eyes before looking back to the woman. She smiled and said, “Good evening, Sheriff, how’s patrol going?”

You put on your best Southern accent and responded with a tip of your hat, “All’s well, Your Highness. Nothing can get past me and my band of… wizard and lightning bolt.”

Finished with their looting, Tommy and Billy spun around and ran back to their mother and uncle. You gave the woman another hat tip before running after them, chuckling.

“Next house, Mom!” Tommy cried as the three of you reached her and Pietro.

“What am I,” you huffed, “chopped liver?”

“You,” Pietro replied pointedly, “don’t have super speed. Whaddya say, boys? How about you let Uncle P maximize your candy acquisition, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy exclaimed, “kick-ass!”

“Language,” you warned with a tousle of his silver-painted hair. You stepped over to Wanda’s side as Tommy grasped Billy’s hand, then reached out for Pietro’s.

“I feel the need,” Pietro started.

“For speed!” Tommy finished. They grabbed each other’s hand and then the three of them were gone in a silvery blue streak.

“Kick-ass,” Wanda said. She stared at you incredulously.

“I see the double standard I’m setting,” you stated. “Also, we’re going to regret letting them leave.”

“Probably.” Wanda gave you an empathetic pat on the shoulder, then spotted someone behind you. She made her way around you and walked over to Herb, who wore a fantastic Frankenstein’s Monster costume, and you walked after her. “Oh, hey, Herb.”

“Oh, hey, Wanda, [Y/N],” Herb responded.

You noticed as you got closer, waving absentmindedly, that he had a wire in his ear, probably set up to communicate with the other neighborhood watch members. You wondered if Vision had thought his cover through and actually told anyone that he was going to help out the watch tonight.

“How’s the patrol going?” Wanda asked.

“Eh, quiet so far,” Herb replied, only for a crackle to sound in his ear. He asked for the two of you to hang on for a moment, then put a finger to his ear. “Say again. All the candy has disappeared?”

As if on cue, Pietro and the twins went zipping by behind him, leaving no candy in their wake. You and Wanda exchanged nervous glances.

“And now all the jack-o’-lanterns have been smashed,” Herb continued. “And now everyone’s covered in silly string?”

“I said we’d regret it,” you muttered to her.

She anxiously looked about, trying to follow the streak flying up and down the street. “[Y/N], honey, could you maybe…?”

“I’ll get the pumpkins and silly string,” you offered, your powers already beginning to warm your fingertips, “you get the candy?”

“Deal.”

Wanda pretended to fix her hair and used the action to mask a subtle power-conjuring gesture. In response, the insides of bowls and bags being held by the people around you began to glow red as their candy was replenished.

Now that you had a handle on your own abilities, it was easy to manage with no hand movements required. The power itself was fairly simple: you could transform matter from one form to another. It came with a couple of other quirks, like a heightened awareness of certain energies—such as Wanda’s magic or Vision’s overall synthezoid being—and being able to use that awareness to find a person if you focused hard enough and paid attention to the pull in your gut but overall, you didn’t find it particularly special and it was nowhere near as powerful as Wanda’s. You could also drain your powers if you used them too long or focused on them too hard, and had to keep a constant source of energy intake to keep both your body and ability’s energy in check; in other words, you were almost always snacking.

It was useful in times like these, though, where you had a target object or objects that needed to be covered up. All you had to do was focus—not too little and not too much, you found through trial and error; that was the trickiest part—and let the prickling heat coat your hands, and then thin wisps of black appeared to float around smashed pumpkins or entangle themselves with lines of silly string. Black turned to white as the transformation began to take place—silly string into fake cobwebs, Halloween-themed strings of light, or sinking into peoples’ clothing to become part of the pattern, and pumpkins into sturdier variations of themselves or other Halloween decorations—before white turned to red and then faded altogether.

You’d think at least one person of Westview would notice such feats of glowing magic and decorations appearing before their very eyes but no. The only indication that anything had changed at all was another crackle in Herb’s ear.

“Oh, nice,” Herb said in response to the talking in his ear, “everything seems to be all good now.”

“Huh, weird,” you said as you casually shook off the tingling sensation in your hands, “I wondered what happened.”

“Pranks, probably,” Wanda suggested after clearing her throat and dropping her hands. “Of course, the watch probably handled it. I’m sure Vision had a hand in it.”

“Vision?” Herb questioned. “Oh, he’s not on duty.”

Nice job, Vis.

“Oh,” Wanda said, “I… I thought…”

“Is there something I can do for you, Wanda?” Herb asked, suddenly staring intently at her. “Do you want something changed?”

Wanda became visibly uncomfortable and she chuckled nervously. “No. It’s fine. Nevermind.”

You eyed Herb; his eyes weren’t quite glassy but they stared with an emptiness that made your intestines twist before they snapped back to normal when Wanda indicated that everything was fine. You placed a supporting hand on Wanda’s back and slowly ushered her away as Herb smiled, waved, and walked off down the street.

“Strange,” Wanda said with a few rapid blinks.

“Very.” you agreed as the two of you walked on. “Are you okay?”

Wanda blinked once more, then stopped walking. “Did Vision lie to me?”

You slowed and turned to face her before stopping altogether. “Well, he’s technically doing his job.”

Wanda stared at you. “Do you know where he is? What he’s doing?”

You winced, then shook your head. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I told him that he should talk to you and he must have decided he didn’t want to ‘get me in trouble’ or something.”

Wanda frowned and mumbled, “What is wrong with us…?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried again as you anxiously toyed with the hem of your short vest, “I want to help.”

Wanda sighed and gave you a small, sad smile. “You tried.”

===

Later that night, while you and Wanda were back walking with the group, Tommy found himself to have developed super-speed like Pietro because of course, he had. As you’d done for most of the day, you tasked yourself with watching over the kids while Wanda used her time to catch up with her estranged brother. This time, you were watching Tommy zip Billy and himself around to test out his new ability while Wanda and Pietro wandered a little further down the street. Now that Tommy had an energy similar to that of his parents, even if you couldn’t see him, you could hone in on him and follow a familiar pull.

You were leaning against the side of the local cinema, which was currently showing The Incredibles—Westview had apparently shifted decades again—and attempting to make a mental map of Tommy’s speedy travels while using the compass-like pull when the pull suddenly yanked your attention upward. Your eyes shot open as you sought out the call of your attention and against the starless night sky, you could see a pinprick of familiar golden light hovering over a floating silhouette.

You glanced over to Wanda and Pietro, who were deep in conversation. Then a flash of silver light zipped across your field of vision; you stopped Tommy and Billy by turning a section of the street in their path to wet cement.

“Hey, no fair!” Tommy whined.

“My costume…” Billy mumbled sadly.

You tugged them out of the wet cement, turned it back to asphalt, and transformed the mess on their shoes and pants into grass clippings that could easily be brushed off. After doing so, you straightened up and took the toy guns out of your holsters. You thought about turning them into squirt guns and setting the twins loose, then decided that wouldn’t make you any better than Pietro and settled for transforming them into massive chocolate bars instead. You held them out to the twins.

“Take these,” you said, “and be on your best behavior for the rest of the night. Go with your mom and Pietro to the movie showing. Tell them I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

Tommy eyed the chocolate skeptically before shrugging and taking it anyway. “Where are you going?”

“To make sure Vision gets home on time,” you replied. Tommy shrugged again and walked off, and you started to turn away when you felt a little hand grasp your wrist and the slight spark of magical energy that came with it. You looked down to see Billy staring up at you with wide eyes.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” he asked softly. “Mom and Dad?”

You took his hand and squeezed it. “Of course, hon’. If anyone can make something work, they can.”

Billy stared for a little longer before nodding. He squeezed your hand back, then dropped it. “Stay safe.”

“That’s the plan.”

===

You were following your inner compass to Vision, who was no longer flying overhead when you began feeling the weird sensation of something non-physical trying to clamber inside your head. You were tempted to try to block yourself from whatever it was trying to reach you but it didn’t feel threatening. Instead, it felt somewhat familiar and it felt scared.

You paused and try to figure out what exactly it was and as you did so, your head filled with radio static, struggling to get in tune. You focused harder, invited whatever was trying to connect with you to do so, and just as the familiarity clicked as Billy, the young boy’s voice rang inside your skull.

It’s Dad, Billy’s voice said and then the radio static was reappearing. Before it completely overtook him, you could hear, He’s in trouble.

Just as Billy’s voice and then the radio static disappeared from your head, a section of the barrier shielding Westview from the outside world exploded into view. From your previous experience with going through the barrier yourself, you recognized the warping of the static wall as trying to bend around something trying to leave to prevent it from doing so.

Burning heat suddenly flared in your palms, strong enough to envelop your entire arms and lick at your shoulders and neck. Then you were running to Vision’s aid, throwing bolts of glowing energy ahead of you to transform obstacles like trees and signs into harmless items that were no longer in your way as you beelined to your partner. While the visible section of the barrier was easy enough to follow, it didn’t tell you anything about the condition of the person it was fighting against. Instead, the normally steady pang that was now quickly shattering and fading told you Vision was not just in danger but dying, and fast. You attempted to quicken your pace further.

By the time you reached the edge of Westview, you felt sweaty and exhausted, and the numbness of falling asleep limbs was setting into your hands and arms; you’d overused your abilities. Still, when you saw that Vision was nowhere to be seen, meaning he’d managed to make it through the barrier, you pushed forward and started forcing your way through it as well. Although your powers were weak from overuse and nothing compared to Wanda’s they did help make the passage somewhat easier. Just before you broke through to the other side, you felt what could only be described as the magic version of the pullback of a wave before a tsunami was about to hit.

Then you were collapsing on the other side of the barrier. It was hell there—a high-tech military base was set up, trucks and soldiers were swarming around, a woman was being handcuffed to one truck by a familiar man—but all you could focus on was the body of your dying lover laying on the ground barely a foot ahead of you, pieces of him tearing from his body and flying backward to be absorbed by the energy field just behind you. You felt yourself choke out a sob from seeing him in such a state and forced yourself to crawl one inch, then two inches, then three inches forward until you could wrap a weak hand around his ankle and attempt to feed what little bit of energy that you had left into him. You drained yourself little by little of everything you had left until dark spots appeared in your eyesight and you didn’t have enough strength to lift your head or keep a tight hold on Vision’s ankle.

You were about to pass out when Wanda’s magic hit crashed into you like a wave and traveled outward. Then everything went black.

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Proposal Imagines

I’m back on my bullshit! This was supposed to be short, but then it took a week and a half to write and is almost twice as long as my longest one shot. Oops. These should all be gender neutral and I hope you enjoy! I got to explore two characters I don’t write for very often, so I’m super excited to present this. And there are like, three uses of (Y/N).

Total Word Count: 8,096

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin:

Din fiddled with the jewelry, nerves pulling his stomach into complicated knots. He’d been doing research for months, ever since he’d finally felt like it was the right time to get married. Culturally, marriage was like a retirement sentence for Mandalorians, but he didn’t care. He could bend the rules for you.

Finding what to propose with had been hell. In your culture, proposals were done with rings, but in his, you offered your partner your signet if they had none. He had consulted the Armorer, and she had forged him the necklace he was holding now. It was a good compromise between the two customs, they had both decided

It was solid beskar, a loose collar of sorts, ornate and delicate so it didn’t look like you were a slave. Dangling in the center was his mudhorn signet, which would settle between your collarbones.

Shifting in the grass, Din wondered if he’d chosen the wrong spot. But no, the picturesque fields of Sorgan felt right. It was where you’d met, and hopefully, it was where you’d be wed.

“Cyar’ika?” Din said, seeing you come up the ridge. Grogu was with Omera, so this would be a purely uninterrupted moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” You said happily, seeing the world glitter below you. “This is amazing Din. Thank you for bringing me.”

Din took a breath. Your back was to him, and he decided to do this before his cowardice took over. “Cyar’ika,” he said. “Do you know how Mandalorians say I love you?”

You turned, confused. “No?”

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.” Din was starting to feel nauseous. He really hoped you said yes. “It’s an indirect translation, but it literally means ‘I know you and hold you in my heart forever.’”

“Din,” you said, putting a hand on his pauldron. “What are you saying?”

Din wanted to cry. “I love you,” he said softly. “More than words in any language can describe. I want you here, safe and by my side forever.” He knelt down, pulling out the necklace and watching your eyes go wide. “I know we live dangerous lives. We could die tomorrow, for all we know. But will you honor my wishes today and become my riddur?”

You nodded immediately, tears glittering in your eyes as Din stood and fastened the necklace around your neck. “Din,” you breathed. “Oh Din it’s beautiful.”

“Indestructible too,” Din said, somehow even more nervous for what came next. “I’m unfamiliar with your marriage traditions, but a Mandalorian marriage is very simple.”

You put a hand on the signet charm. “My wedding customs involve a party and a public exchange of vows.”

“We can do it in town, if you want,” Din offered. “I have vows, words that make a marriage official in the eyes of the Maker. But there is a custom of mine that must be done here.”

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

Din put his hands on his helmet, but found that he couldn’t lift it. His arms wouldn’t do it. You, understanding, took a gentle step forward and put your hands overtop his. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

You lifted the helmet slowly, revealing his face inch by precious inch. When it was all exposed, you looked him in the eyes for the first time, taking him in. “Oh Maker,” you breathed. “You- I mean- Your-“ You were clearly at a loss for words. “Brown eyes,” you finally said. “Brown fucking eyes. Din Djarin, you and your eyes will be the death of me.”

Din smiled, and he could’ve sworn he heard you swear under your breath. “I love you.”

You nodded. “Ni- damn, I forget. How do I say it?”

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum Din Djarin.”

Marcus Moreno:

To say Marcus was worried about getting married again would’ve been a gross understatement.

He was downright terrified.

You and him had known each other since high school, and had been together for a few years now. You’d been there when his late wife passed, and now he was hoping to marry you.

He just needed one thing first.

“Missy?”

Missy looked up as Marcus slid into her room, looking as nervous as he felt. “Wow Dad,” she said, turning from her desk. “You look horrible.”

Marcus sat on the edge of Missy’s bed. “Come here. I want to talk to you about something important.”

“Is it (Y/N)?” Missy asked as she sat next to Marcus.

“Yeah,” Marcus said. “I love them very much, and I know nothing will ever replace your mother. But, if you’re comfortable with it, I want to ask (Y/N) to marry me.”

Missy smiled. “Dad, they make you happy,” she said. “You don’t need my permission.”

“I know,” Marcus said, pulling Missy into a hug. “But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with me marrying someone new.”

“Well then,” Missy said. “You have my blessing. On one condition.”

Marcus smiled. “What is it?”

“I get to be a flower girl.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

That night, Marcus sent Missy down the street to a friend’s house for the evening. She wished him good luck before skipping out the door, following her friend to her house.

When you came home from work, Marcus was there to pull you close and kiss you, smiling as you laughed. “Someone’s happy to see me,” you said. “You’re not usually home when I get home.”

“I took off today,” Marcus said. “They kept nagging me to take a break, and Missy has off from school too.”

“Where is the little troublemaker?” You asked, shedding your coat and looking around.

Marcus headed into the kitchen, you following him. “Lucy invited her over for the evening,” he said. “I figured we could finally have some adult time. I made dinner.”

You gasped, seeing the food on the table. “Marcus! You didn’t have to!”

“I don’t mind,” Marcus promised, pulling your chair out. “C’mon, don’t let it get cold.”

While you ate, you talked about all sorts of mundane things. Work was the first, and then you complained about the deer that were somehow getting into the garden. Marcus agreed that that was a problem, but promised he’d look into it.

Finally, he was able to take your empty plate and set it in the sink. “Hey babe,” he said, still standing. “I was thinking earlier today.”

“Oh lord,” he heard you say. “Marcus, what’s going on?”

Marcus fumbled with the ring box as he turned and got on one knee. Everything he’d planned on saying, the speech he’d been reciting in his head all day, it was all gone as soon as he saw your face. All he could muster was a small “please?”

“Marcus,” you said softly. “Oh Marcus. Are you okay?”

In truth, no he wasn’t. But he cleared his throat and finally found the ability to speak. “I know,” he said softly. “I know you said we would never need a ring, but I think the time is right, and I love you more than anything in the world.”

You slid out of your chair and knelt in front of Marcus, so you were on his level. “Marcus,” you said, putting your hands on his face. “Are you ready for this?”

Marcus nodded. “I am,” he promised. “And Missy is too.”

“Then yes,” you said, smiling wide. “I can’t wait to marry you Marcus.”

“And I can’t wait to marry you,” Marcus said, pulling you into a tight hug and cradling you close. “Thank you.”

You laughed. “As if I could ever say no.”

You and Marcus stayed on the floor until you heard a familiar voice say, “Did you ask yet?”

“Missy!” Marcus looked up quickly, surprised. “When did you get home?”

“Just now,” Missy said. “Was it a yes?”

You opened your arms, tugging Missy into the hug pile on the floor. “It was a yes.”

Max Phillips:

You loved Max more than anything. He was kind to you, handsome, and an all around good boyfriend. Not to mention the fact that he was undead, which was a surprising perk.

However, lately, he’d been acting really weird.

It was an unsettling kind of weird. He would spend more time than usual away from you, he was definitely hiding something, and he was so damn jumpy and defensive when you asked about it.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Max!” You shouted through your townhouse. “Max! I want to talk to you! Now!”

Max came up from the basement, which had been named his area for vampire shit, so you never entered. “What’s up babe?”

“We’ve been dating for a while now,” you said. “So I know when you’re hiding something from me.”

“Babe,” Max said, almost warningly. “Stop.”

“No!” You said, finally putting your foot down. “What the hell are you doing? You’re in the basement all the damn time, I never see you, and you always act super guilty around me! What the hell?”

Max’s face paled, and he sat at the kitchen table. “Babe. Please, I can’t-“

“Jesus,” you grumbled, already knowing where this was going. “Max! I love you! I love you a lot! But this again?”

“I’m trying to find a way to propose to you!” Max snapped, standing quickly.

You stopped, mouth open. “Propose?”

Max nodded, and you were sure that if he could, he would be crying. “Yeah. Propose.”

“Oh.” You felt oddly guilty for yelling now. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Max mumbled, sitting back down. “I should’ve been more open with you.”

You shook your head, moving closer to Max so you were standing between his legs and he could rest his head on your chest. “Max, I’m sorry I yelled. But I don’t understand. Why were you spending so long in the basement to try and propose?”

“When a vampire takes a human partner, a typical proposal includes a turning,” Max admitted, his words muffled by your shirt. “I was researching and preparing.”

You smiled. “Do I get a ring too?”

Max chuckled a bit, and you were glad to hear it. “Yeah. I found a nice black one with rubies in it. It’s downstairs.”

“You had all of this planned out,” you said, burying your hands in Max’s hair. “Right down to the ring.”

“Right down to the ring,” Max agreed with a smile. “I was going to propose officially this weekend.”

“This weekend,” you murmured. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

On Friday evening, Max finally took you downstairs, clearly nervous. The basement was small, and Max had only made it more cramped by putting what you suspected was a tattoo chair in the room. It had thick leather straps that unnerved you, but from what Max had said last night when he explained turning, you would need them.

“Max,” you said softly, sitting in the chair and watching your boyfriend shuffle around. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Max said softly, passing a ring box over and over in his hands. “Here.”

The ring inside was beautiful. It was minimalistic, a simple band of black metal with a small ring of tiny rubies that glittered in the artificial lights. “Max,” you said, sliding the ring on. “I love it.”

Max smiled, kissing you. “I’m glad. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Max was very careful strapping you down, and when he was done, he kissed your forehead one last time, mumbling out an apology before sinking his fangs into your neck.

It was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Max had fed from you before, but this, this burned like someone had injected you with lava. You were sure you were screaming, and then your vision went black.

You woke Tuesday morning, a sharp metal taste on your tongue. Max was beside you, reading a book and blinking very slowly. Even for an undead vampire who needed no sleep, days on end without resting was hell, and it showed on Max.

“Babe!” Max said, noticing you were awake and standing quickly, abandoning his book. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes?” You said, confused. “My stomach hurts, but I don’t want food.”

Max nodded, undoing the straps and helping you sit up. “You’re thirsty. Here, try this.” He handed you a bottle and you chugged half of it, feeling a warmth spread through your body. “Feeling better?”

You nodded, putting the bottle down. “Yeah. Did it work?”

“Yep,” Max said, kissing your forehead. “You’re a vampire, and we’re engaged.”

That sent a giddy feeling through you. “We are going to have the weirdest wedding ever.”

Max laughed. “I agree.”

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

“Babe!” You shouted through the house, knowing Frankie was downstairs. “I’m taking a bath!”

“Oh!” Frankie said, and you could hear him thudding up the stairs. “Use this! I found it off Instagram, well actually Benny found it, but he said you might like it!”

You smiled, taking the black bath bomb. “This is very Game of Thrones-y,” you said, turning the bath bomb over in your hands. It was black, with a vibrant orange stripe around the middle. The entire thing was egg shaped, with small scales that made you fairly certain it was supposed to be a dragon egg.

“Eh,” Frankie said with a shrug. “It wasn’t marketed as a Game of Thrones egg, but I guess it does look really Mother of Dragons-ish.”

You laughed, kissing Frankie on the cheek. “Thank you. I’ll use it. But when I stain the tub, you’re cleaning it.”

Frankie stuck his tongue out at you, and you scrunched your face at him as you closed yourself in the bathroom.

Once the bath was filled, you’d lit a candle, set up a glass of water, and got into the tub, you began to slowly unwrap the bath bomb. The smell was familiar, in a weird way. It smelled like fruit and wood smoke, the same smell Frankie carried on his whenever he went camping and ate an entire pound of strawberries. You smiled, dipping the bath bomb under the water and relaxing as it hissed and bubbled, slowly turning the entire bath black.

The bath bomb was mostly fizzed away when you saw something in the bath with you.

Your immediate reaction was to freak out, but it clearly wasn’t a bug, nor was it anything disgusting. It was a clear plastic sphere with gold inside.

Curious, you scooped the small sphere out and rolled it over in your hands. You’d heard of bath bombs having small surprises in them, and Frankie must’ve not realized. You popped the sphere open, fully expecting a small toy.

You did not expect a ring.

The ring was gorgeous. The metal was a darker grey, with an upside down teardrop shaped gem in the middle that shimmered in all sorts of oranges and pinks and reds. Circled around the round part of the gem was a tiny dragon, almost like it was defending its hoard.

You smiled, setting the ring on the floor and turning back to the sphere. There was one more thing inside. A small slip of gold paper. Written on one side of the paper was care information, the size, the return policy, and on the other side...

“Francisco Morales I am going to kill you!” You screamed, standing and sending water sloshing everywhere.

The other side of the paper read ‘Will you marry me?’

You could hear Frankie laughing on the other side of the door as you quickly wrapped yourself in a towel and yanked the door open. “Explain.”

Frankie was sitting on the floor, a huge dorky grin on his face. “You said you didn’t want a traditional ring. And Benny actually did suggest the bath bomb. Really, if anyone should be in trouble, it should be him!”

“Good god Frankie,” you mumbled, scoping the ring up and examining it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Is it?” Frankie asked, standing to get a better look. “There were ten options. Oh, that one’s my favorite.”

You sighed. “Are you also going to get a dragon ring?”

“Yeah!” Frankie said eagerly, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Mine’s more masculine, but it has the scales, and the stone is the same.”

“You know,” you said, fiddling with the ring. “You never actually asked me.”

Frankie’s eyes went wide. “Do you want me to?”

Smiling, you shrugged. “If you want to.”

Frankie took the ring from you and got down on one knee. “Baby, will you marry me? Even if it is with a dumb dragon ring?”

You laughed, nodding and kneeling down so you could kiss Frankie. “Absolutely Frankie. I will marry you. Dumb dragon ring and all.”

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

You sighed, examining yourself in the mirror. You’d chosen one of your favorite formal outfits for tonight, as Jack had asked. He was coming directly from work to pick you up, and you couldn’t wait.

You’d known Jack for a long time, and you’d been there for him through thick and thin. When you started dating, he was reluctant and hesitant. But now, five years later, your relationship was as natural as breathing.

“I’m home!” Jack called through the house, and you rushed out to meet him, kissing his cheek and smiling.

Jack slid a hand down your back as he kissed you properly. “Why hello,” he said smoothly. “Are we ready to go darlin’?”

You nodded, bending down to put your shoes on before righting yourself and shifting a bit to get comfortable. “Yep! Ready to go. Still don’t know where we’re going though.”

“I want to treat my baby on our anniversary,” Jack explained, keeping his hand low on your back as you walked to his car. “We’re going out to dinner.”

It had been so long since Jack had taken you to dinner, and you were surprisingly eager when he helped you into the car. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” Jack said, putting his hand on the center console and grinning as you automatically held it on your own. “It’s a surprise, baby.”

You pouted playfully, smiling as Jack began to drive. Jack was the master of planned surprises, and you had no doubt that this night would be unforgettable.

The restaurant was very nice, something you had assumed considering your current state of dress. Jack even left his hat in the car as he walked out. He had a reservation, and the waiter showed you two to your table with a friendly grin.

“Jack,” you said happily, looking around. “This is lovely.”

“Five years,” Jack replied, taking your hand. “It’s a big number. I wanted to do something special.”

You laughed. “Jack, honey today would’ve been special no matter what.”

The waiter came back, and you two ordered dinner, Jack reassuring you that you could get whatever you wanted.

For a little over half an hour you two talked, ate, and laughed together. Jack told you about work, making you laugh when he told you about how Tequila, who you’d met exactly once, had tried to use Jack’s lasso to grab a chair and accidentally pulled said chair into his face, giving himself a black eye.

Once the food had been eaten and you were considering dessert, you noticed Jack was starting to look nervous. “Jack? Is everything okay?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, baby. I’m fine. I actually have a question for you.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve loved you for a while,” Jack said, taking your hands. “You make my life so much better and you saved me from living alone and sad. I’ve called you mine in words for fine years now, but I want it to be official.” Jack moved, still holding your hands, and knelt down in front of you. “I know our relationship is rocky, but I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

You swallowed down tears, trying not to cry your eyes out in public. “Jack,” you said softly. “Yes. I will.”

Jack dropped one of your hands and pulled a ring out, sliding it onto your finger.

There was dead silence, and then someone began to clap, starting a tidal wave of noise and congratulations.

The rest of your night was spent in varying states of euphoria. Jack joked, as he led you back to the car, that you two could consummate the marriage in the back of his car.

“Okay casanova,” you said with a laugh as Jack undid his tie and top button of his shirt. “Can it wait until we get home, at least?”

Jack smiled, draping his tie around your neck and pulling you close for a kiss. “No, I don’t think so,” he purred into your ear. “Shall we?”

You pretended to consider. “Y’know what?” You said softly, leaning in so you were speaking directly into Jack’s ear. “I think we shall.”

Ezra:

To say Ezra was a man of many words would’ve been an understatement. He was arguably a man of too many words, each one more elegant than the last. He could come up with elaborate poems basically on the spot, and writing was a piece of cake for him.

So why was he having such trouble trying to find the right words to propose to you?

Ezra sighed, looking at the small ring box with the ring inside. He’d commissioned it custom, so that the stone was one he’d collected on your first prospecting trip together. You were completely unaware of his antics, he hoped. The only thing Ezra had left to do was find the words to propose.

Which was proving to be harder than he’d originally anticipated.

“Ezra?” You said from the other side of the pod. “Ezra? It’s dinner time.”

Ezra sighed, putting the ring in his pocket and pulling aside the divider that separated the pod into rooms. At this point, he was bracing himself for just winging it and hoping he was just as poetic in the moment.

“Hey Ez,” you said, turning when he walked into the kitchen area. “Long day?”

“Is it that obvious starlight?” Ezra said with a laugh. “Today was a lot.”

You smiled, putting a plate in front of Ezra. “Well, at least dinner is done.”

Ezra nodded, tangling his feet with yours when you sat down with your plate. “Starlight, I was thinking today.”

“Oh?” You said around a mouthful of food. “That mind of yours is truly never idle, is it?”

“You know me so well starlight,” Ezra said. “I was thinking about our future.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Our future? Ez, what do you mean?”

Ezra shuffled his feet, still keeping his ankles tangled around yours. “I was filling out paperwork today for my solo job.”

Your face fell. Ezra had been offered a solo job that you were unable to do with him. He’d be away for months, and last time you and him had been apart, he’d been marooned on the Green and came back four years later with one arm missing.

“Oh starlight,” Ezra murmured, taking your hand. “No, it’s not bad my dear. I was reading the papers again. In the fine print, I found something that intrigued me. There is a way for you to accompany me.”

You perked up at that, and he could see the hope in your face. “Really?”

“Yes,” Ezra confirmed. “My starlight, I am allowed to bring family members by blood and by law.”

“By law?” He could see the confusion take over your face. “Ezra, what are you saying?”

Ezra put his hand in his pocket, hoping this wouldn’t all backfire. “Starlight, I’m asking you to marry me.”

You were quiet for a second as he pulled out the ring and held it out. “Ezra,” you breathed softly. “Are you serious?”

“I have loved you for years, starlight,” Ezra said. “And marriage has always been something I wanted to discuss with you. But this job made me realize I want nothing if I can’t share it with you.”

“Oh Ezra,” you said, taking the ring and looming closer at it. “Is this?”

“The first stone we harvested together,” Ezra confirmed. “It is.”

You swallowed hard and smiled. “Ezra. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Ezra carefully put the ring on your finger and pulled you across the tiny table to kiss you deeply. “Thank you my dear. I think you have truly made me the happiest man in the universe.”

“Anything for you, Ezra,” you murmured, already looking forward to a future by Ezra’s side.

Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey:

Shane was not a marriage guy. Not in the slightest. You’d asked him once about it, mostly for tax reasons, and he’d immediately told you he wasn’t going to do all that shit for a piece of paper and a ring.

So you’d never brought it up again.

However, you’d been dating Shane for almost seven years, and you’d only just noticed something peculiar about him. He never really wore his jewelry or any of that around your apartment, mostly because when he was home he wasn’t Dio the goth king of New York, he was Shane the weird but funny boyfriend. But you’d noticed when he was taking his rings off one day that he wore one or even two on all of his fingers except for his left ring finger.

“Babe?” You said, sitting beside Shane on the couch while you two watched Jeopardy. “Why don’t you wear your rings in the house?” You’d been playing with Shane’s hand during the movie, and you’d finally managed to ask him.

“I don’t want to bring Dio home,” Shane said, curling his fingers around your hand. “I’ve told you that before. Why?”

You shrugged, still not looking at Shane. “Dunno. Curious.” You traced your index finger down Shane’s ring finger. “You don’t wear a ring here.”

Shane was quiet for a minute before he sighed. “Baby, I don’t want to wear a ring there. Yet.”

“Yet?” You asked, apprehensive.

“One day,” Shane said slowly. “I’d like to get married. But I’m young, and I’m king, you know.”

You smiled. “I can’t rule alongside you?” You asked.

Shane laughed, kissing your head. “Maybe one day you can, my dove.”

The next day, while you were out, you stopped by a small local business that you and Shane both loved. He got most of his Dio clothes at the shop, and you occasionally found something for yourself, like the patched leather jacket that matched Shane’s.

“Hey! It’s the soon to be reigning monarch of New York City!” Marissa said happily upon seeing you come in. “How’s it hanging?”

“Hey Ris,” you said, looking absently at a pair of vintage style pants. “I’m doing good, and so’s Shane.”

Ris smiled. “Only you could have the guts to call the king of New York by his actual name.”

You laughed, leaning on a jewelry case to talk to Ris. “He asked me to! I’ve told you before, he doesn’t bring Dio home with him. He’s a bad influence on my kind, law-abiding boyfriend.”

Now it was Ris’s turn to laugh. “Oh honey,” she said. “Now I know you’ve lost it.” She paused, seeing you looking mesmerized into the case below you. “See something you like?”

“Yeah, actually,” you murmured, pointing to a specific ring. “That.”

Ris pulled the ring out. “It’s Dio’s size,” she said softly.

“Oh Ris,” you mumbled. “Shane and I were talking about marriage yesterday. He said he wasn’t ready yet, but he had that look in his eyes. Y’know the one where he’s hiding something from me.”

“Honey,” Ris said, cutting you off. “If you feel the time is right, go for it. Don’t wait for him to ask.”

That afternoon, you went home with the ring in your pocket. It truly was a very Shane ring. You’d feared it would be overly simple and lost among the heavy and ornate rings Dio wore all day, but the small skull made from a gleaming pearl that was set into the band of dark metal was the perfect balance between Shane and Dio.

All you had to do now was ask.

You planned to ask during dinner, but Shane wasn’t home for dinner. He’d left with his long leather coat, so you could only assume he was out doing Dio things. So, instead of eating dinner with Shane, you ate alone, the ring box growing heavier and heavier in your pocket with each passing minute.

Finally, about halfway through Jeopardy, which you hated watching without Shane, he came home. He looked exhausted, falling onto the couch without taking his rings or coat off. His eyes blinked closed and he let out a long breath.

“Shane?” You asked, scooting and pulling your boyfriend’s head into your lap. “Long day?”

“Too fucking long,” Shane agreed, a smile pulling at his lips when you began to rub his temples, hoping to clear away his headache. “How’s Jeopardy?”

You shrugged. “Boring tonight,” you said. “No good categories.”

Shane yawned, and you carefully took his hands, beginning to take his rings off. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked, opening his eyes so he could watch you as you lined each ring up on the coffee table.

You smiled, putting a ring with a heavy bird skull on the table. “How do you wear these all day?” You mused, mostly to yourself. “These rings must weigh a few pounds, at least.”

“You get used to it,” Shane promised, rolling so he could wrap his arms around your waist. “C’mon, I wanna snuggle.”

“Alright,” you said, abandoning the rings. “We can snuggle.”

The next morning, Shane had to leave again, but he was able to delay it so you and him left at the same time when you left for work. As he got dressed, you looked over his ring lineup. Slipping the one you’d bought yesterday into the line, you perked up as Shane came out of the bedroom.

“Looking good,” you said happily, seeing Shane in your favorite, a tight pair of leather pants and a black tank top. “C’mere, I wanna see if I remember where all your rings go.”

Shane sat on the couch, holding out his hands and grinning. You mirrored his grin, starting on his right pinky finger and working your way in. It was easy, considering you’d put them in order yesterday. When you reached his left hand, you started to get nervous. But there was no backing down now.

“And one more,” you said, sliding the skull ring onto Shane’s left ring finger.

He looked down at his hands, confused. “Babe, I’ve got an extra.”

“I know.”

Shane lifted his head, meeting your eyes. “Are you proposing?”

You shook your head. “No!” You said, maybe a bit too quickly. “No, I just, I wanted you to have something to remind you of me while you were out, and-“

“Yes.”

You stopped, voice failing at Shane’s single word. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Shane repeated. “I’ll marry you if you want.”

It took a minute of dead silence for you to understand what Shane was saying, but when you did, you couldn’t hold back the tears. “Shane.”

Shane was equally as emotional as you, his tears running black and making you laugh. “Shane,” you giggled. “Your eyeliner.”

“Oh.” Shane touched his cheek and began to laugh. “Dammit! I’m gonna have to fix that.”

You smiled, pulling Shane in for a kiss. “What if we stayed home today? To celebrate?”

Shane scooped you up, holding you tight against his body as he carried you to your bedroom. “Y’know what? I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Javier Peña:

Having Javier home was the greatest gift of all. He’d been in Columbia for so long that you’d almost forgotten him, the way he laughed and cried and spoke. And then, by some miracle, he came home and to you.

Which was where you were now, home in Texas while Javier received phone call after phone call, and you occasionally caught snippets of the conversations, something about Cali and Columbia. You were scared to ask what that was about, but at the same time, not knowing was killing you.

“Javi,” you said slowly one night, while you were making dinner. “What was that latest call about?”

“Work,” Javier grumbled, coming up behind you and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “I’m sure you’ve figured this out by now, you’re not stupid, but they want me to go back.”

The thought of that chilled your blood. “And they still won’t let me come with you?” You asked hesitantly.

“Probably not,” Javier said. “Circumstances are, if you can believe this, worse than they were when I left.”

You made a face, pulling a pan off the heat and sighing. “Javier,” you said. “What if we got married?”

Dead silence. You almost regretted asking, but you needed an answer.

“No,” Javier said finally, voice sounding strangled. “No. If we were married, you’d be able to come with me, but I won’t allow that.”

“Why?” You were sure he could hear the heartbreak in your voice.

Javier shook his head. “Because what I saw down there was enough to scar me for ten lifetimes!” He said loudly. “And I don’t want that to happen to you.”

You trembled, nodding your understanding. Javier slowly got closer, wrapping you in a hug. “I’m sorry I raised my voice,” he said gently. “But you must understand. It’s not that I don’t love you or don’t want to marry you. But I can’t risk you getting hurt, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled.

Three weeks later, you waved goodbye to Javier, tears pouring down your face. He looked equally as torn, but he kissed you firmly and promised, just as last time, he would be home again.

And home again he was.

For months, you tended to your house, waiting for the day when you’d hear Javier’s car pulling up on the rough gravel driveway. You almost lost hope more times that you could count, but the promise of having Javier home kept you going. He called, of course, and he wrote letters you put on the fridge. But nothing was the same as having the real Javier beside you.

It was the dead of winter when he returned home. Of course, Texas weather meant that it was still nice and warm out when you heard the car in the driveway. Perking up, you tried to remember if you’d invited anyone to visit.

Peering through the peephole in the door, you sighed, seeing Javier’s oldest sister coming up to the house. “Hey Maria,” you said as you opened the door. “How’re you?”

Maria shrugged. “Good. Missing my little brother, but what else is new?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Come on in. I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Maria admitted. “But I was in the area and figured I’d drop by to see how you were holding up.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “I’m doing fine. Javi wrote last week, and I’m so sorry, but the AC is completely dead. Do you wanna go outside?”

Maria nodded. “That works. Sucks about your AC.”

You tugged open the sliding door, looking back at Maria. “Eh. It’s fine. Simple fix, I just can’t do it myself.”

As you turned, you felt your stomach drop to your shoes. “Javier?”

Your boyfriend smiled, standing nervously in the yard. “Surprise.”

After a second of stillness, you launched yourself at Javier, laughing and wrapping him in a tight hug. “You’re home!”

Javier hugged you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m home,” he murmured into your skin. “And I have a surprise for you.”

You pulled away, watching Javier take a small box out of his pocket and dropping to one knee. “I’m so sorry,” he said as you gasped softly. “I should’ve asked before I left, and I should’ve taken you with me. I was just scared you’d be hurt, and I didn’t want to risk that. But I see now, I don’t want to go anywhere unless I can have you beside me. So please, my love, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You said happily, falling to your knees and pulling Javier in close. “Yes. I will.”

Javier smiled, kissing you gently. “I figured a late proposal was better than no proposal at all,” he said.

You laughed. “I agree.”

Maxwell Lord:

Max took a breath, trying to calm his racing mind. He’d been doing this periodically for over three hours now, as the clock grew closer and closer to five PM.

Five PM. When he was supposed to pick you up and take you out for the night on a simple Valentine’s Day date. He’d take you to dinner, and then you two would walk around the reflecting pool, taking in the sights of DC at night. Hopefully, Max would work up the courage to get down on one knee then, but with the way things were looking right now, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m a coward,” Max groaned into his hands, looking at the clock again. Four thirty.

“Daddy?”

Max immediately sat up, smiling wide as Alistair walked into the room. “Hey!”

Alistair looked at Max’s desk and the ring box sitting next to his lamp. “What’s that?”

“This,” Max said, pulling Alistair into his lap. “Is a ring for (Y/N).”

“Like a wedding ring?”

“Exactly like a wedding ring,” Max said, throat growing tight. “I’m going to ask them to marry me today.”

Alistair smiled. “Will they say yes?”

“I don’t know,” Max admitted. “I hope so.”

“They love you a lot,” Alistair said. “They told me so!”

Max paused. “They did?”

“Mhm!” Alistair nodded. “They told me last night that they love you a lot and they want to spend every day with you.”

Suddenly, Max’s anxieties over proposing melted away a tiny bit. “Thanks for telling me,” he said, kissing Alistair’s cheek. “That made me feel much better.”

At five, Alistair waved good luck to Max as he went to go pick you up, and Max waved back, the ring box heavy in his pocket.

You were waiting on the couch when Max entered the house, still in your pyjamas. “Maxie?”

Max immediately rushed to your side, seeing your lidded eyes and the green tint to your skin. “Babe? Are you okay?”

You nodded, and then shook your head quickly, leaning over and dry heaving into a bucket by the couch. Max rubbed your back, suddenly worried. “Babe?”

When you resurfaced, you looked incredibly guilty. “I’m so sorry Max,” you said softly. “I know you had a lovely date planned out, but y’know how I told you one of my coworkers brought us takeout yesterday? Well the chicken I ate wasn’t good, and me and the other person who ate it have food poisoning.”

Max made a noise of sympathy, shedding his coat and undoing his tie. “Don’t feel bad,” he said. “I’ll reschedule the reservation, and we can go out next weekend.”

You smiled weakly. “Thank you Max.”

Max left you on the couch while he went upstairs to put his pyjamas on. As he changed his pants, the ring box fell out, and Max’s breath hitched. Well there went his plans to propose. He could totally do it next weekend, when you felt better.

“Max?”

Max’s head snapped around, seeing you in the doorway, looking at him with confusion. “Babe!” He said quickly. “Why aren’t you on the couch?”

“I had to use the bathroom,” you said, coming closer. “Is that a ring?”

Max took a breath. No hiding it now. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “It is.”

You winced, and Max helped you sit on the bed. “Were you going to propose tonight?”

Hesitantly, Max nodded.

He heard your breath hitch, and then you started to cry, big hiccuping sobs that broke his heart as he pulled you into a hug. “Shh,” he comforted, rubbing your back as you cried into his bare chest. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“But it isn’t!” You sobbed. “I ruined your proposal!”

Max shook his head. “You haven’t ruined a single thing, my love,” he promised, rocking back and forth the same way he did when Alistair was crying. “None of this was your fault, okay?”

You still cried for another ten minutes, and when you were drained of tears, Max still held you close, allowing you to slump against his body.

“Babe?” Max finally breaks the silence. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you whimpered against his chest. “Feel bad.”

Max sighed. “Physically?”

You nodded.

“How can I help?” Max asked, kissing your forehead. “Do you need water?”

“No,” you said hesitantly. “Just wanna stay here.”

Max smiled, smoothing a hand over your hair. “Okay. We can stay here.”

Late that night, after the sun had set and midnight had come and gone, you were still awake, throwing up as Max held your hair off your face and rubbed your back. “Oh babe,” he said, seeing your face stained in tears. “Hey, I’m right here. I’m never leaving.”

You breathed heavy as Max helped you lean against his chest, your shoulder blades pressing against him, but he wasn’t about to complain. “Max?”

“Yes?”

“Are we engaged now?”

Max blinked a few times. “What?”

You turned, so he could see your eyes. “You had a ring, and said you were going to propose. Can we skip all the fancy shit and just be engaged now?”

“Oh,” Max said, smiling. “Of course. Engaged. I like the sound of that.”

Taking a breath, you fell against Max’s body, limp and exhausted, but oh so very happy. “Engaged,” he heard you murmur. “Sounds good.”

Oberyn Martell:

(We all know Oberyn isn’t about to ever marry anyone. So I present, the next best thing)

You sighed, leaning back against the soft bed and even softer pillows. Ellaria was on your left and Oberyn on your right, both holding you as you breathed heavy, still shivering from the ecstasy they had both just put you through.

Oberyn turned your wrist over and kissed it gently, likely feeling your pulse beneath his lips. “My sun,” he murmured, making your pulse jump. “I was hoping to ask you a question.”

Ellaria smiled, running her fingers gently over the warm expanse of your bare chest. You let your eyes flutter closed, leaning into her touch.

“Ellaria,” Oberyn chastised, a smile in his voice. “Let the little sun focus.”

You hummed. “I can listen,” you promised.

Oberyn nodded, tucking himself closer to you. “My sun, I was hoping you would accompany me and Ellaria to King’s Landing in a week’s time.”

The destination confused you, and you opened your eyes. “I thought Doran was to go to King’s Landing.”

“He has fallen ill,” Oberyn said, tracing the knuckle of his index finger over your temple and down your cheekbone. “I must go in his place.”

Ellaria continued to work her fingers across your skin, her hands dipping low onto your belly and her face curling into a smile as she saw how you reacted to her touches. “The prince would not take you if he thought there would be danger, my sun,” she reassured. “And I’m attending as well.”

A sigh released from your lungs, and you nodded. “I will go,” you decided. “Only if I can have this for as long as I live.”

Oberyn grinned, cat-like and mischievous. “As long as you live?” He asked, sitting up and back on his legs. “Ellaria, do you think we can manage that?”

Ellaria pulled you into her lap, so your back was flush with her stomach, understanding where Oberyn was going. “My prince,” she purred. “My sun. I do believe we can.”

“What do you say, little sun?” Oberyn asked, tracing over the ornate golden collar with the sun charm that you wore. “Shall we worship you forever?”

You nodded, glad Oberyn had given you a chance to say no, you were too tired for this right now. But you weren’t, so you just eagerly accepted his touches, keening when Ellaria’s expert hands joined in.

Oberyn, glowing in the light of the sun that filtered through the curtains, leaned down next to your ear, biting at your earlobe and smiling. “Forever, my sun.”

You gasped, feeling Ellaria’s fingers pinch at your chest. “Forever, my prince.”

Pero Tovar:

Traveling with Tovar and William was nothing less than hellish. The days and nights spent sleeping on sand without any water to wash your throats or bodies, the constant attacks from enemies you didn’t even know you had, the way your stomach rolled when you ran out of food, it was all enough for you to want to stay at whatever town you stopped at and never travel again.

And then you remembered why you’d started traveling with the boys.

Tovar had been your deciding factor, his grumpy face and seemingly insatiable appetite drew you to him, and while it took a while, you were finally able to break through and find his softer side.

You’d been exploring this unknown softness for years now, and although marriage wasn’t something either of you wanted, or in Tovar’s case even knew much about, you had considered asking once or twice.

Now was one of those times. William was in town, bartering for supplies, while you and Tovar remained in the single inn room. It was something you did often, share a single room between the three of you. You and Tovar fought for space on the first small bed, and William took the second one. If there was only one bed, William usually took the floor.

You sighed, carding through Tovar’s hair. He’d been complaining about the length, but you’d told him there was nothing you could do until you reached a town. Now that you were in a town, you were able to sit your grouchy Spaniard down and trim his admittedly overgrown hair.

“Pero,” you said, tossing another mangled chunk of hair into the fireplace. “What do you want from life?”

“You’re getting awfully philosophical,” Tovar noticed, wincing when you tugged on a particularly stubborn hair mat. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Sit still,” you said firmly. “I was just thinking, you bastard.”

Tovar grumbled a bit, squaring his shoulders and doing his best to stay still. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “What I want.”

“A lover?” You asked cautiously, and Tovar jerked in surprise, causing you to nick his ear with your scissors. “Christ! Pero! I could’ve cut your ear off!”

Tovar pressed a hand to his ear, stopping the flow of blood. “Well don’t surprise me like that!” He countered.

“Oh I’m sorry that the notion of taking a permanent lover scares you!” You yelled back, standing and walking as far from Tovar as you could get in the small room. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling a dreadful emptiness in your stomach.

“Hey,” Tovar said softly, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

You sniffled, trying to stop the tears. “Yeah.”

Tovar put an arm around you. “Don’t lie,” he murmured, pulling you close. “What’s wrong?”

“I just,” you said, voice wavering. “I don’t want us to be a mystery Pero. I want there to be a word for us.”

“Like married?”

Tovar’s words caught you off guard, and you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding. “Yeah. Like married.”

“Amor,” Tovar said softly, running his hand down your spine. “I love you, you know. I love you a lot. But marriage, it’s hard for people like us. No priest worth his salt will bless us, and I cannot afford a ring.” The best I can offer you is me.”

“Pero,” you breathed. “All I need is you.”

You and Tovar remained in each other’s embrace for a while before you finally pulled away to treat his bleeding and finish his hair. You were working on a really knotted section on the back of Tovar’s neck when William returned, smiling at you two. “Look what I found!”

He spilled the contents of a small leather coin purse onto his bed, revealing a few coins, two small blank rolls of parchment, and a glittering ring made of gold.

Tovar picked up the ring and handed it to you. “You wanted a ring.”

The ring didn’t fit your fingers by any means, but you laced it onto a strip of leather and put it around your neck, smiling. “Thank you Pero.”

You turned Tovar to the fire once more, determined to finish your job. As you stood between his legs, working on his fringe, he leaned forward and kissed the ring where it rested on your sternum. “I suppose this means we’re married.”

“I suppose it does,” you agreed, stepping back and tossing the last chunk of matted hair into the fire. “Looking good.”

“Good enough to marry?”

You laughed. “Yes Pero. Good enough to marry.”

67 notes · View notes

wincore · 4 years

Text

sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning.

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it).

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly.

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.)

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone.

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest.

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable.

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough.

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says.

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers.

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure.

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort.

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp.

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!”

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways.

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people.

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

362 notes · View notes

raddifferent · 3 years

Text

I'm late but I'm in the middle of switching jobs so who cares! Here's Day Two of @rosemarymonth2021: Fantasy! This is Chapter 1; Chapter 2 will double as the Chapter 4 prompt because I want to finish this fic rather than do medieval with no fantasy elements. It's my writing project and I make the rules!!

Anyways, as usual the link will be in the replies and the fic is below the cut!

The esteemed Duchess Lepidopterina Dolorosa of the House Maryam, Baroness of the Misted Isles, Devotee of the Midnight Spiral, and Serene Lady of the Obsidian Blade, first of her name, was having a bit of a shit day. As some of her many fancy titles would suggest, she was an adept swordswoman, and she had been honored to be invited to the wedding of Duke Egbert’s daughter. She was more familiar with Lady Egbert than her betrothed, another Duchess of the Troll kingdom, despite being a troll herself. That was one of the side effects of spending an inordinate amount of time in the borderlands fighting off the blasted undead, as she found herself doing now.

Her traveling party had been journeying through the Cresting Mountains for a fortnight now, having crossed the mountain peaks worn oddly smooth by some ancient ocean and cracked in half on their tectonic ascent. The scraggly pines of its forests were dense in places and opened into large clearings in others, creating an unpredictable landscape full of pockets of zombies. Three of the party had fallen when the undead felled their horses, and she’d lost sight of the other two of her companions when the pack had separated them. Now, she fought the beasts alone.

Kanaya raised a shining hand, turning some of the undead near herself. She had a moment to catch her breath and assess the situation. A crowd of about fifteen undead humans and trolls had her backed against the base of a thick pine. At her feet lay a pile of bodies twenty-strong. Her black leather boots were shiny with rotting ichor, and splashes of guts, grime, and gore adorned her oiled outerwear. The Duchess twirled her twin blades, each a deep, midnight indigo sparkling with obsidian glitter, and also with a little magic. Her hands were covered with snugly-fit leather gloves, but beneath the animal hide Kanaya knew the sigils of the Church of the Midnight Spiral gleamed on the backs of her hands. Indeed, her skin itself glowed from the inside, although that was more of a side effect of being a Blessed Resurrectionist. Kanaya lived thirty five years, and died, and was brought back by The Bright Light in the Dark Sky to walk again some fifty more years. Those outside the Church would call her another, luckier undead. A vampire.

Her groaning, festering foes began to clamber close enough to swipe at her again. Kanaya whirled and sliced, removing limbs and heads as the undead shuffled within her reach. Eight more fell, leaving seven standing. Kanaya tried to wipe a smear of viscera from her face, but she feared the back of her sleeve only made the mess worse. She was breathing heavily. The dampness on her boots and the height of the bodies was beginning to impede her. She needed to reach high ground, and soon.

Just then, a golden light shone from deeper in the woods surrounding this clearing. Kanaya jumped to the side just as a zombie swiped at her head, leaving her in the perfect position to see a glowing arrow pin her assailant’s head to a tree. There must have only been one archer aiding her, as only one or two arrows came at a time, but they still landed more rapidly than Kanaya’s own battle maidens could achieve. In seconds, the battle had ended.

Still breathing heavily, Kanaya attempted to wipe her blades off on her jacket before sheathing them. She began to walk towards where the arrows had been coming from.

Kanaya was met at the edge of the clearing by a figure in a deep purple cloak. Her skin was a deeper, redder brown than Kanaya’s own, set in sharp contrast to their white-blond hair. Kanaya met her startlingly purple eyes, which were bright, intelligent, and a little mischievous. She had a golden lip ring down the center of her mouth, and a thin golden chain as a choker. Her clothing was modest but fine, Kanaya’s keen eye picking out expensive brocade in the shirt.

“To whom do I owe thanks for such gracious assistance?” Kanaya offered when the stranger did not speak.

The stranger spoke in a slightly raspy voice with a short, clipped affect. “Arrows rained upon your general area moments before, and yet you walk towards a potential source of danger? Moments after your own life was at risk? You must either be assured of your skill, or very stupid.”

“I like to think I am the former, although there is always time to prove the latter.”

The stranger smiled. “You think it is inevitable you will be proven unintelligent?”

“I find it imprudent to assume one will never make a mistake.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. “Ah, a pragmatist. We may get along yet.”

Kanaya pursed her lips. “I find I get along with people much better if we have something to call each other by.”

“You would still like my name, then.” It wasn’t a question. They seemed to be hesitating. “I suppose you can call me Briar,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m just a traveler in these woods. There’s nothing I have to claim that involves fanfare.”

Politely, Kanaya did not mention the clearly magical bow, or the fine clothing. “I do have a bit of a fancy title, but I think it best not to rattle off the entire thing. Suffice it to say that you can call me Kanaya.” Hopefully, her rescuer would be equally polite about her weaponry and dress.

“May I ask where you’re headed? I wouldn’t mind some company, and you certainly seem like you need the assistance.” The last was delivered with a smirk, which Kanaya bristled a little at.

“I have been traveling with several others, thank you; we just found ourselves separated after that large group of undead descended onto us. I had almost dispatched all of them when you arrived.” She made a sweeping gesture back towards the not-immodest pile of re-deceased zombies surrounding the tree she had been up against.

Briar smirked harder. “So my assistance is not desired?”

“No, that is not-” Kanaya broke off her objection with a huff as Briar began to laugh. “I would, actually, quite like your help locating my companions. However, I would like to know why you would want to help me. You seem to be taking great pleasure in needling me about needing it.”

The other traveler sobered slightly. “I just know what it’s like to be traveling alone, and the drudgery of not having someone to talk to, no stories to tell around the fire or on the road. It can be better to group up, even temporarily, just to kill the boredom.”

“Did you lose a companion recently as well?” Kanaya blurted.

Briar raised a thin eyebrow. “Not recently, as it were. But yes, I have previously parted ways with those whom I enjoyed sharing a story or three.”

“I would be happy to share tales with you, stranger. My companions would likely head towards the closest inn if they were sure they were separated from me, as that was our next destination. Does that align with your path?”

The other woman smiled. “That it does. When last I consulted my map, the next inn was a half-day’s walk up the road. Shall we?”

As they walked up the road, dappled light gently touched the faces of both travelers. Briar hummed an aimless tune, kicking up dead, brown leaves. They traveled in silence for quite some time, neither quite willing to speak up after such an abrupt introduction. About an hour into the walk, Kanaya opened her mouth and was about to begin some sort of small talk about the weather when they reached the top of a hill. Below them, the trees opened up to reveal a path curving down and around a small, ruined stone structure. What had previously been a large castle town now lay in disarray, the abbey wall crumbling and holding nothing at bay. The peasant houses must have been constructed of wood, as all but their foundations had long rotted away. All that remained was a small stone castle with a single, thin spire reaching high into the sky. Small was relative; the property would have held a baron comfortably in his keep with acres of holdings, but from the vantage point it felt like a child’s plaything.

“Well, that certainly looks interesting.” Briar broke the silence with a chuckle.

Kanaya did have to agree. Ruins such as this one, so deep in the woods, were possibly undisturbed, and might have strange and magical treasures hidden within. At the very least, there would be a few monsters to kill, and get some of her frustrations out. “We should explore it. There is still light in the sky.”

Briar’s smile faded slightly. “You know, I grew up not too far from here. When I was a little girl, we were told a tale in whispers. It was the sort of fairy tale that adults would laugh off, but forbid you from speaking about ever again. Would you like to hear it?”

“Right now?” Kanaya asked, the question coming out more incredulously than she intended. “While we’re stopped in the middle of the road?”

The smile was back. “I can walk and weave words, miss.”

“Well then, far be it from me than to stop you.”

“A long, long time ago, a young king killed what he thought was the last dragon in his lands. His fields were free from fiery terror, and his people lived prosperously for three decades. One day, a winged shadow drew over the land again, smaller than the scourge that had last plagued the land, but still enough to wreak havoc. One dragon spawn had survived, and had lived long enough to exact its revenge.”

Briar stopped to hop over a river, holding out an arm to steady Kanaya as she crossed. Her hands were warm, heat thrumming through Kanaya’s thick gear to her palm where she clasped Briar’s. She let go, and they continued. Kanaya’s hand felt cold.

“The dragon landed on the top of the castle of the now-middle-aged king, and told the king that he would leave the lands be, if only the king would offer his daughter. One life in exchange for the kingdom’s safety.”

Kanaya laughed grimly. “I suppose it was an easy deal to make with the dragon staring him down.”

“I suppose it was,” Briar replied. “He brought his daughter to be scooped up in the dragon’s claws and carried away. The kingdom was quiet and safe for another thirty years, until the king’s son had borne an heir and several daughters, and a new ruler was crowned. The dragon once again flew across the land, and once again sat atop the tower and demanded a companion. Every three decades, the dragon would return, larger than before, and more imposing.”

“And how long ago was the last time the dragon came to the land?” Kanaya asked, playing along.

“Well, that’s just the thing.” Briar held a branch up so Kanaya could pass under it. “The dragon hasn’t been sighted in over fifty years.”

“Do you know why?”

The first crumbling pieces of stone that formerly lined the road to the castle began to rise up from the sides of the road. “No one knows. Some of the bravest in our village once described traveling deep into the woods and seeing a castle with a tall tower, a sleeping monster curled around the top.”

Kanaya squinted ahead, trying to spot the castle. “Did you put much stock in their tales?”

“When I was younger? Not really. Now? Also no, not really. I think if a dragon had a castle, he’d sleep inside of it, not on top.”

Involuntarily, Kanaya burst out laughing. “That’s your justification for why they’re wrong? Not that your country doesn’t have a history of missing princesses, or that you happened to live close enough to the dragon’s castle to find it, but not so close that it bothers you?”

Briar put her hands on her hips. “Would you sleep out in the rain and the cold if you had the option not to?”

“I make a habit not to when I have the choice,” Kanaya ceded.

“Then you admit there’s some logic to what I say,” Briar smirked felinely.

Kanaya rolled her eyes, smiling. “Begrudgingly. At any rate, there was no dragon on that tower when we saw it from above.”

“No,” Briar said. “There wasn’t.”

#rosemarymonth2021 #rosemary #rose lalonde #kanaya maryam #homestuck #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck fic #lesbian #lesbian fic #rosemary month #bucky writes

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5bi5 · 3 years

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We have known about the vampires in this town for a long time now.

Our whole way of living is sort of built around it, actually. The whole water supply is holy water – the water in our taps, in our pools, in our fire hydrants. I've always thought if I had to kill a vampire I'd want to do it with a fire hydrant. You have to think about these things, you know. They teach you in school: wear a cross, carry a stake, hang garlic over your door. Never invite someone into your home unless you are certain you can trust them. And for God's sake, don't go walking alone after dark without some kind of weapon handy.

Things happen, of course. Things are always happening. People will just quietly disappear – most of the time the bodies are never recovered – and although it can't technically be said for certain just what happened, everyone knows. And then they talk. In hushed voices, in places where the family of the deceased – sorry, the "missing, presumed dead" – can't hear them, they talk. She must have done something wrong, they whisper. If she had just worn a cross like she was supposed to, if she had just stayed inside after dark, this would never have happened. Stupid girl – this was always bound to happen to her.

We all grew up watching those same vampire movies as everyone else. Dracula, Nosferatu, even Twilight. Let me tell you something: vampires don't sparkle. There is no sure way to identify a vampire until it's too late. Until there's no time to reach for that stake that you always keep in your purse, that if you could just get to it, maybe you could save yourself, fuck, where is it, where is your purse – there's no time for that. You're already dead.

Although I grew up knowing about the vampires, constantly hearing warnings and rules and stories, I didn't see one (not knowingly, at least) until I was twenty. At this point, although I knew theoretically that I could be attacked on any given day and it was important to be prepared, subconsciously I had begun to believe that it was never going to happen to me. I'd never so much as glimpsed a vampire in two decades, and everyone just droned about them constantly. Surely, if it were going to happen, it would have happened by now.

So, as I cooked a romantic dinner for myself and my boyfriend of three months, the threat of vampires seemed as distant as the possibility of an anvil falling out of the sky and crushing me to death. I was gearing myself up to tell him I loved him for the first time; I was not a romantic person by nature, but things had been going really well so far, so I wanted to make an effort. That effort also included making coq au vin and, in the interest of staying as kissable as possible, omitting the two cloves of garlic which the recipe called for.

That particular evening was one of the darkest and rainiest I had seen in some time, so when my boyfriend showed up twenty minutes late and apologizing profusely, I just told him not to worry, and ushered him in out of the rain.

"Why don't you take a shower while I get dinner on the table?" I suggested. "I can give you a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt." I wasn't really sure my clothes would fit him, but he was soaking and shivering, and he took me up on my offer right away. At worst, I got to see him in a too-tight shirt, right?

I gave him the biggest t shirt and sweatpants I owned, and I set about pouring wine and dishing up soup. In the interest of both warmth and atmosphere, I dug out just about every candle I owned – which, to be fair, was only a handful – and set them on the coffee table, where we could admire them without the smell mingling with the scent of the food. By the time everything was ready, he was back, wearing my sweats and shirt. They fit him better than I would have guessed, but he was still clearly uncomfortable, frowning and tugging at the shirt hem to stop it from riding up. It wasn't exactly the start I had pictured to our perfect romantic night, but hey, if something had to go wrong, this didn't seem so bad, right?

"You look cute." I said, grabbing his hand away from his hem and squeezing it in both of mine. "Come on, Griff, let's just have some dinner."

Griff gave me what might have been a forced smile, and sat down. "Thanks for making this."

"Happy to." I smiled back and took my seat across from him. I decided to wait until his mood improved a little before I sprang the whole "I love you" thing on him. I didn't want to freak him out.

We ate mostly in silence, and I regretted not thinking of a romantic soundtrack to put on. By the time we finished, I was desperate for some kind of noise – or just something to take the sullen expression off of Griff's face – so I suggested we watch a movie. We settled on The Hangover; again, not exactly how I had hoped the evening would go, but whatever made Griff happy.

It didn't take long for his attention to wander away from watching the movie and towards kissing me, which was all fine as far as I was concerned. Good thing I'd left out that garlic, right? I closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss, trying to parse whether this was the right moment to tell him. Before I could decide, however, he suddenly sprang away from me with a gasp.

When I opened my eyes, it was obvious what had happened, but my brain refused to register it. That burn mark in the shape of a cross had been there before I leaned towards him, hadn't it? It wasn't from my cross, the one I always wore around my neck, was it? It wasn't from any cross, of course not, my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I wish I hadn't wasted precious seconds processing all of this. Maybe I could have done something, said something, at least moved, before he was tearing the cross off of my neck with another pained yelp and leaning back over me. The jig was up now, and it was clear that unlike me, he wasn't wasting any time.

I wish also that I could say I survived through some great, heroic moment, but that's not what happened. I just sat there, shellshocked, until his mouth reached my neck and he began to bite – and then my body seemed to act of its own volition, thrusting him away from me with both hands. This caught him off guard, and he fell backwards, landing directly on top of every candle I owned. His shirt – my shirt – caught fire, and he dashed out the door into the rain.

At the very least, I can say that I made the conscious decision to lock the door, and then barricade it with a table. That's about all I managed to do before collapsing on the couch, back into the same spot I had been just minutes beforehand, and burst into tears. I didn't even bother trying to stop the blood leeching from my neck; I just cried until at some point I eventually fell asleep.

They taught us so much about preventing vampire attacks that it never even occurred to me before that moment that I had never been taught what to do if one did take place. Maybe it was assumed that if you got attacked by a vampire, you weren't surviving. Still, that seemed to nullify the point of carrying stakes and wearing crosses and blessing the water and whatnot. Maybe it was because everyone in this town seemed to believe that if you got attacked by a vampire, it was your fault – if you were smart, you wouldn't be out after dark in the first place, now would you?

Except I wasn't out after dark. I was wearing a cross. I survived. And now I had to continue surviving with no idea how to proceed. I couldn't ask anyone, either – even if they didn't lecture me to my face, surely they would whisper about me behind my back. Stupid girl, didn't even realize her own boyfriend was a vampire. What was she doing, inviting him into the house, when he clearly wasn't trustworthy? She should have known better.

For days, I stayed in my apartment, afraid to go out. I showered, with holy water, of course – except, weeks later, it dawned on me that Griff should have been hurt by the holy water. So, what was the truth? Was holy water not really an effective weapon against vampires, as we had always been taught, or was the water we had always been told was holy not really holy at all?

I did the best to cover the wound on my neck with makeup and collared shirts. There was no one there to see it, but I couldn't bear to look at it, and when it wasn't covered, I couldn't stop. I'd just stand in front of the mirror and stare at my neck, thinking of everything I should have done differently. Still, I was alive, wasn't I?

Wasn't I?

The first time I went out, it was to gather supplies: more stakes, more crosses, more garlic. Matches, bottles, spirits, and rags. Knives, too, although I didn't know if they would help or not. I wasn't really sure what I knew anymore.

The second time I went out, it was to hunt. No more being shocked, no more being attacked in my own home. I was taking the fight to them. After all, what was the point in trying to stay somewhere safe if nowhere was safe? What was the point in following the rules if they weren't going to protect me?

The vampires in this town have known about us for a long time now. What started as a solo effort has now grown into a small movement, which I'm proud to say consists of several people whom I saved from vampires. People who, like me, had no instructions on how to proceed – except for the ones that I gave them.

Of course, they've had time to prepare now. They protect their hearts more carefully, they don't reveal that they're vampires until they're alone with a victim, they even carry what I assume is non-holy water to put out any fires we might start. Often, our efforts feel futile; sometimes I'll go hunting several times and not come across anyone I can say for certain is a vampire. It's hard to know for sure if I'm making the right call. Sometimes it feels as if I am making no difference at all, as if I am still sitting on the couch doing nothing.

Still, things happen.

#vampires

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destielharlequinchallenge · 4 years

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The Destiel Harlequin Challenge Master Post: 2020 Mega Bang

Participants in the 2020 Destiel Harlequin Challenge completed an amazing 20 fics and 3 sets of artwork! You can learn all about those here!

Spectre (fic by a_dusky_gold, art by aceriee)

This whole thing… this was supposed to be a fucking farce. A way to keep Nicholas Vaught occupied until the deadline he’d given Dean would run out, and he’d still get the money to send Dad to the Town Hall rehabilitation for alcoholism, because that was the goddamned deal.

There were no such things as ghosts or magic or a Book of Life. Dean knows, okay? He wasn’t the Army’s goddamned Mystery Raider for nothin’; he knows history, he knows artifacts, and he knows that the Book of Life is an ancient myth that is about as real as werewolves or vampires.

And yet.

“The Book of Life,” the man had said. Dean can’t even remember his name.

Shit, shit, shit.

Dangerous Ground by Amethystaris

Special Agents for the Department of Diplomatic Security, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have been partners and best friends for three years, but everything changed the night Cas admitted the truth about his feelings for Dean. And when Cas was shot a few hours later, Dean felt his reluctance to get involved was vindicated.

Can a camping trip in the High Sierras save their partnership?

Honour Undressed by andimeantittosting

Among his friends, Castiel, Lord Milton is everyone’s confidant and, along with his trusted valet, the fixer of problems. But there is one secret Castiel has never shared: he is in love with his valet and has been for years.

Born in the gutters, Dean Winchester was assigned as Castiel’s batman in the war, and when Castiel travelled home to take up his title, Dean followed him as his valet. To assist Castiel, Dean is not above a little burglary or blackmail. But the one thing he wants for himself is Castiel’s heart.

When Castiel’s closest friends become the target of a blackmailer, certain truths come out. But while Dean determines to seduce Castiel, Castiel is adamant that he must resist, for if there is one rule a gentleman must follow, it is never to dally with his servant.

Havenport by BlueMasquerade

Castiel cleared space on his desk by the expedience of sweeping the previous contents to the side. He set the bundle down in the center of the surface and studied the knots in the rope before expertly untying them.

The book was old, its leather bindings cracked and crumbling. He carefully opened the cover to reveal the pages within, each hand cut, the edges beautifully deckled, the text written in pen and ink.

“This is written in ancient Enochian.” Castiel looked up, gaze narrowed. “Where did you obtain a book written in ancient Enochian?”

“Is that what it is? All I could tell is that it sure as hell isn’t English.” Mr. Winchester grinned, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

an aching in my heart by contemplativepancakes

When Dean’s best friend dies, leaving behind her daughter, Dean knows he has what it takes to give Claire the life she deserves. The problem is, they’re not related by blood, and Claire’s long lost uncle gets called to take her in. Castiel Novak was bad news when he was in highschool with Dean, and judging by his blue hair and tattoo sleeves, nothing’s changed. Castiel ran out on his family once before, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let that happen to Claire without putting up a fight.

Fools and Fate by Danica_Dust

Castiel Novak fled his coven to escape the rigid, predetermined Fate laid out for him within its confines. Desperate and alone, he took shelter in the city of Sacriloga, forsaking all magic and living off whatever he could steal. There, witches like Cas are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.

When Jack, a young witch also on the run from his own coven, seeks out Cas’ aid, however, Cas finds that he cannot reject the boy, leaving him to his sure destruction. Especially after the newest visitor to Sacriloga makes his presence known: the legendary Hunter, Dean Winchester, who has been following Jack’s trail.

Sworn to the Men of Letters, Hunters live by one principle: thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Dean’s path was never meant to cross with Cas', but a desperate stunt and a single mistake forces them into an impossible union—holy matrimony.

The war between the witches and the Men of Letters is an ancient one and Cas' most dangerous enemies bring a Fate worse than fire. Unable to ignore his growing feelings, yet powerless to change what he is, a choice must be made.

A suffocating Fate on one hand. A precarious freedom on the other. And in between, the kind of love that makes fools of us all.

Ozone by Deancebra

A young magic user who wants desperately to live. A jaded recluse who has forgotten what living means. They’re each other’s only chance.

Dean’s wild magic is killing him. The mage guilds have given up on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he dies in a spectacular, catastrophic bang. His only hope is an exiled wizard who lives in seclusion—and is rumored to have lost his mind.

The years alone on his hilltop estate have not been good for Castiel Novak. After the magical accident that disfigured him and nearly destroyed the village, he drifts through his days, a wraith trapped in memories and depression. Until a stricken young man collapses on his driveway, one who claims Castiel is his last chance. For the first time in fifteen years, Castiel must make a choice—leave this wild mage to his fate or take him in and try to teach him, which may kill them both. The old Castiel, brash and commanding, wouldn’t have hesitated. Castiel the exile isn’t sure he can find the energy to try.

A Demon Like Him by EllenOfOz

Dean Winchester doesn’t want to be a warlock. The idea of working in a lab, channeling demonic magic into enchanted batteries is not what he wants to do with his life, but it’s a dangerous opinion to have—his father was a powerful and well-connected warlock, and Dean is expected to follow the family tradition.

His only way out is to fail the demon summoning class—failure means expulsion from the Warlock College. Despite Dean’s best efforts to fumble the summoning, it works. Although not the way anyone expects.

Dean’s demon, Castiel, is an incubus, but also a powerful mage on a mission to rebalance the magic that is being stripped from Demonside by warlocks.

Dean must choose: fail out of his final exam and turn his back on becoming a warlock, or help Castiel and graduate. But he doesn’t count on how hot the incubus is, or how close they have become in just a few days.

A Working Relationship by fangirlingtodeath513

The homes that Castiel Novak designs for Angelic Houses are to die for. They’re pristine, perfectly designed and organized, and they’ve caused more than a few bidding wars. It’s the perfect job—he’s organized, good with math, and he’s able to pick up on design trends relatively quickly. The only thing that isn’t perfect? His obnoxious older brother, Luke. Castiel’s been vying for a position on a flipping team for years now, but Luke has never even considered it. When a lecherous gossip reporter overhears an argument, they receive an offer they can’t refuse.

They’re invited to compete on Flip Off, a competition where two people flip houses and compete for the highest profit. Castiel wants the leverage a win would bring him, but he also wants to prove himself. Enter Dean Winchester, a contractor with his own team and one that’s blissfully unconnected to Angelic Houses, allowing Castiel to prove himself without any help from the family company.

The undeniable attraction between them certainly doesn’t help matters, but Castiel is resolute in his decision to make a move only after they’ve finished working together. At least, that had been his plan until Dean made him an offer he simply couldn’t refuse.

Crashing In by followyourenergy

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Make Me Believe by GhoulsnHalos

Ten years ago, Castiel Novak’s stepfather disowned him, taking from him his place as hereditary heir to the head of the Hunter and Warrior Guild. Now, he’s a self-made, and celebrated, master gem and metal smith. Castiel doesn’t believe that the God’s decide your soulmate. Until he designs what can only be a gift fit for his soul mate, who in contradiction to the etiquette, if not the laws of Neffroen, must be a man.

Dean Winchester is convinced that he is a lowly, dumbass, no magic hunter who couldn’t possibly be on the same social scale as a Novak. So, why is it when he spots the jewelled torc in Castiel’s shop, Dean develops an obsession over the neckpiece and its creator? It can't be anything to do with the will of the Gods, no matter what anyone says, because that's baloney and Dean's not into men.

When Castiel’s long-lost brother turns up and suggests he ought to challenge their stepfather and that Dean is destined to help Castiel rule the clan, Castiel takes some convincing. The real problem is Dean. Can Castiel with the help of family and friends convince Dean of his place by Castiel’s side? Can Dean play the part everyone expects of him to help Castiel regain his rightful place in society?

Shielded Heart by JuniperJones

Arthos, the Infinite City, is a place of alien wonders and indescribable beauty—and, most importantly for Dean, it’s also halfway across the universe from his abusive ex-fiancé. He came to the city desperate for a fresh start, but he finds himself downtrodden on a world of aloof alien beings with little hope of finding his place—and a good chance of being kidnapped or killed before he can even settle in.

At least until he is saved by an irresistible alien with piercing eyes and a seductive smile.

Castiel is the living embodiment of temptation, and he makes no effort to disguise his desire for Dean. But when his past threatens to drag Dean into a dangerous underworld, Dean discovers Castiel isn’t who he claims to be. After enduring so much suffering, can Dean bear to take a leap of faith with this mysterious alien? Can he trust Castiel with not only his life, but his heart?

Stumble and Fall by Kitmistry

Castiel was raised to do one thing: serve his country, whether that was fighting a war or becoming an expert spy. But when his lover is charged with treason and executed Castiel defects. He has evidence that can destroy the KGB’s entire spy ring in New Mexico, he has names of scientists involved with atomic weapons who send information to the Soviets, and he won’t stop until he has revenge.

Putting all his trust in the Americans, Castiel finds himself under the protection of U.S. Marshal Dean Winchester, who is too cocky and attractive for his own good, but at least seems to know what he’s doing.

When a routine transfer to a safehouse goes horribly wrong, Castiel and Dean narrowly escape with their lives. With the Marshals compromised and Castiel being framed for murder, he and Dean are on the run from KGB and law enforcement alike. They have no one to trust except each other, and nowhere to go that their enemies can’t reach.

The Shots We Don’t Take by MandalaRose

Still nursing the tatters of a broken heart and trying desperately to stave off the terror of his impending graduation, college senior Cas Novak decides it’s time to blow off a little steam. Not just any hook-up will do, however. The last thing Cas needs right now is a distraction. On the lookout for someone he can enjoy a steamy night of passion with before leaving them behind entirely, Cas thinks he’s found exactly what he needs in cocky university hockey star and well-known playboy Dean Winchester.

Dean is gorgeous, doesn’t date, and is the singular most infuriating person Cas has ever met. He’s the perfect one night stand...that is, until Dean decides he wants an instant replay of what was supposed to be a one-time event. Will Cas’ offer of friends, sans benefits, convince the arrogant love ’em and leave ’em hockey defenseman to find an easier score? Or will Dean wear down Cas’ defenses and lure the sexy nerd in the dorky trenchcoat back to his bed?

Bullets Over the Bayou (fic by mattzerella_sticks, art by dontbelasagnax)

Everyone wants Castiel Novak to quit the force, including Castiel. But he stays on despite the toxic work environment he’s surrounded by. Still believing he can do some good despite the many lines of red tape impeding him. Luckily, a pair of scissors by the name of Dean Winchester drops into his hands, and he finally feels like he can do some good.

Dean Winchester thought he would be in New Orleans for a day or two. Identify the body of his deadbeat father and then move on. No one knows he’s here. His mother and brother are blissfully unaware of the danger his father roped him into. With a parting gift of a journal, delivered to him the same day he received word about his father, Dean has become the target of a group of people who want him dead. The same people who killed his father.

Racing against the clock, can Dean and Castiel figure out what is so important about John Winchester’s journal that someone would kill for it?

Masquerade by noxsoulmate

It had begun as such a good plan; one that benefitted them both. And masquerading as Castiel Krushnic's boyfriend during the weeks of balls, galas, and charity events certainly was no hardship. With the impending end of their arrangement, though, Dean Winchester must admit that behind the mask of an aloof CEO lies a man he could fall in love with. Or maybe, he already has…

The Medium by raths_kitten

Detective Dean Winchester hates it when his Chief sends a medium to consult on his cases. But this time, the murder is closely linked to Castiel’s world and they both need to work together to solve it.

Any Semblance of Touch (fic by saltnhalo, art by c-kaeru)

1925, New York.

Dean Winchester’s life’s work is protecting the world from the supernatural relics that could destroy it. When an amulet with the power to control the tides is shipped to New York, he must intercept it before it can be used to devastating effects. This time, in order to succeed, he needs a powerful psychometric… and the only one available has sworn off the magical world altogether.

Castiel Novak’s gift comes with great risk. To protect himself, he’s become a recluse, redirecting his magic into museum research. But with the city’s fate hanging in the balance, and faced with the power of Dean’s charm and persuasion…

He can’t force himself to say no.

The Love of a Righteous Man by SargentMom573

Five years ago, Captain Dean Winchester defied his father, Senator John Winchester. With his brother Sam, and his spaceship Impala, Dean found his place among a ragtag fleet of pirates and smugglers. Their latest mission left him with a price on his head and a scar on his heart. When a surprise attack separated him from Sam and revealed a Sith weapon, he would do whatever it took to bring his brother back – even sacrifice his own happiness.

After Emperor Michael’s death broke the psychic link between them, Emperor’s Hand Castiel Novak spent years drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a barrel. Mostly sober, three years ago he found a new purpose as the Impala’s Chief Medical Officer, and Sam Winchester’s guide in the Force. And a good friend in the Impala’s gruff but kind Captain.

Dean and Castiel must work together to bring Sam home alive. But when Castiel’s last mission is exposed, will Castiel complete it and destroy any hopes Dean had for a family? Will Dean forgive Cas’ horrific purpose before it is too late? And give them both what they really want — the love of a righteous man.

SKID by spnsmile

Dean Winchester swore off love after getting dumped and fired from his job the same day. Badly drunk, he ended up balcony-hopping until a pair of hands snatched him inside a darkened room. But it's no hero, it's someone with deep voice whispering threats with a gun pointed at his back. Dean’s too drunk to deal with life but one good look at his hot assailant plus enough beer sold him to his accursed fate. The next morning, he found himself engaged to the most notorious leader of a powerful clan, Castiel Novak.

Married life in the compound for a month was not as blissful so when he could, Dean fought for that freedom. Castiel relented and as Dean tried to put the pieces of his normal life together, getting a bike messenger job and dealing with pain in the ass clients, he now also needs to deal with the dangerous presence of his very jealous and very protective husband watching over him.

Is his life ever going to get back to normal?

#2020 masterpost #destielharlequinchallenge #destiel harlequin challenge #destiel fanart #destiel fanfic #destiel

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bitterlikesweets · 3 years

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Love Bites Ch 20

This is the twentieth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Special | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

A crack rings out in Levi’s living room, and Eren grits his teeth, his hand stinging but otherwise alright. The wooden knife is still firmly grasped in his hand, despite the firm impact from Levi’s own blade. Levi is fast, but Eren can see his arms clearly shifting, trying to stab at Eren’s exposed side before he can get his arm ready to block in time. Eren slides his right foot backward, turning his entire body sideways so that Levi’s blade will meet empty air instead of Eren’s stomach—

And a shin slams against the center of his back, knocking Eren onto his hands and knees on the ground.

“Fuck!” Eren snaps, slamming his fist on the ground.

“Out?” Levi asks.

“No!”

Eren rolls out of the way of the foot he knows is coming to slam down on his back and scrambles to his feet, his eyes darting across Levi’s form for some kind of opening, any opening—

Levi’s rushing at him. If he can sidestep, get behind him—maybe an elbow against his back, anything to get this slippery asshole down. Then, a slash at his sides—no, his neck—fuck it, Eren can just stab him straight through to the heart from behind. If he can just do that, Eren will finally win for once.

Except when Eren tries to activate that sidestep, he feels the way he lurches, the way all his muscles buzz and the world temporarily blurs—he’s using his powers.

Eren trips over his own limbs as he attempts to slow himself down, and all Levi has to do is follow him down, pressing a knee against Eren’s sternum, the wooden knife aimed at his chest.

Levi raises an eyebrow. Eren sighs, dropping his own knife on the ground and raising his hands near his head, palms out in surrender.

“Out,” Eren says, and Levi slides off of Eren to give the vampire a chance to sit up.

“You’re getting better,” Levi says.

“What, because it takes me five minutes to get taken down instead of one?”

It’s been a month since the day Eren discovered the Feral King was his older brother, and he and Levi have been in full training mode since then. They meet every other day, for the most part, in order to give Eren more time to practice. (There are exceptions. Sometimes the restaurant gets busy or Eren’s school and work pick up a bit. Plus, he’s still incredibly drunk and incoherent the one day a week Levi gives him blood.)

Eren’s been in a rush ever since he found out that incidents like what happened to his mother and himself aren’t rare accidents. The idea of some feral cult just lurking out there somewhere, waiting to create more victims, to kill more people, get more people addicted, and start the cycle all over again—

It drives Eren crazy. He wants to do something about it as soon as possible. But he can’t do anything until he can fight without being a burden to Levi. The last thing he wants is to fuck up in the middle of a fight and get both of them killed.

“You’re more capable than you think you are,” Levi says. “It just doesn’t feel that way because you’re fighting against me.”

Eren glowers at him, and Levi rolls his eyes, reaching out to ruffle Eren’s hair.

“It wasn’t a brag, and you know that,” Levi says. “I’ve been killing vampires since I was twelve. You haven’t.”

Eren sighs again, rubbing his face with his hands.

“I know, I just—” Eren shakes his head. “It’s frustrating. How am I ever going to catch up? There’s too big of an experience gap.”

“You don’t need to catch up with me,” Levi says. “The King’s vampires don’t have so many victims because they’re great fighters—even if they were, it wouldn’t matter while they’re feral, since their minds are too far gone for that kind of focus. They kill so many people because they go for the weak. People who have never fought a day in their life.”

Eren’s expression goes dark, his hands clenching into fists.

“Like suburban moms who’ve never done a fucking thing wrong,” Eren snaps. “Those fucking scumbags.”

Levi just layers his hand over Eren’s and Eren takes a deep breath, trying to cool down. But he just sees red eyes behind his closed eyelids, and his chest burns—

“Levi,” Eren says, “I need—”

Levi’s hand immediately moves away from Eren’s hand to his head, tugging him down until Eren’s face is pressed into the crook of Levi’s neck. An aching pressure eases in Eren’s forehead—he must have been furrowing his eyebrows into a deep glare—and the fire in his chest settles. Eren takes a deep breath, his nose brushing against the spot of skin where he can feel Levi’s pulse as he curls his fingers into Levi’s shirt.

“Better?” Levi asks, running his fingers through Eren’s hair.

“Yeah,” Eren mumbles, rubbing his cheek against Levi’s shoulder, “sorry.”

“No need for that.”

“Mm.” Eren huddles himself a little closer to Levi. “Thanks, then.”

Eren confided in Levi about the weird phenomenon that happens when his face is near Levi’s neck. He couldn’t avoid talking about it. Eren was always dropping his head there any time he got stressed or annoyed. It was far too obvious for Levi to not catch on. Now it’s become a habit for them to use that to calm Eren down. Luckily, Levi never seems to mind.

Eren asked Levi what he thought it all meant—especially the confusing itchiness that always seemed to kick in too—but Levi just said that he’d explain it later.

It’s been a while since Eren asked, but he trusts Levi enough to keep believing that “later” will eventually come.

“Why don’t we try out a different sparring partner for you?” Levi asks, his fingers still combing through Eren’s hair. “I could ask Furlan.”

Eren frowns. Furlan has been helping Levi out since they were fourteen. Eren really can’t imagine how he’d do much better against Furlan.

“Is he as good as you?” Eren asks.

“Not with knives and stakes,” Levi replies. “He was my backup; I always had him use the crossbow and stay out of any close combat fights. Besides, he should be rusty.”

When Eren’s frown doesn’t fade, Levi chuckles at him, moving to brush a kiss against Eren’s temple.

“Trust me,” Levi says. “You’ll be fine.”

~ ~ ~

“Why is your entire fucking staff here?” Eren asks, dropping his backpack onto the floor beside the front door.

“Not just the staff,” Hanji says, waving their hand. “Hello, Eren! Long time no see.”

Eren turns his tired gaze on Levi, who just sighs and shakes his head.

Everyone who works at Kuchel’s Kitchen is gathered on the limited seating in Levi’s living room, including people Eren has only heard about but never met, like Gunther, Eld, and Oluo—Levi’s daytime employees (Eren only recognizes them because Petra pointed out their faces on the pictures hanging in the restaurant). With the addition of Hanji and Erwin, the house feels incredibly crowded, especially because Eren is used to it being just the two of them.

“They’re literal children,” Levi says. “Threw a fucking tantrum because I only invited Furlan.”

“I wouldn’t call it a tantrum,” Petra says.

“Oh really?” Levi asks. “Then, what do you call all of you collectively threatening to quit if I didn’t let you come?”

“We had to be a united front!” Isabel exclaims.

“Well, it was pretty childish,” Oluo says.

“Says the guy who threatened to quit with the rest of us,” Gunther says with a laugh, smacking his hand against Oluo’s back.

“I’m here because I heard about all the fun from Petra,” Hanji says, “and I decided to bring Erwin along too.”

Eren notices the way Petra’s expression darkens at just the sound of Erwin’s name. Actually, she’s seated on the couch as far away from Erwin’s standing position in the corner of the room as possible.

...Strange.

Eren clears his throat.

“So… Are all of you guys going to beat me up, or…?”

“All of us except Hanji and Petra,” Furlan says with a grin. “They’re going to make sure you don’t die if we’re a little too rough with you.”

Eren’s eyes widen, and he whips his head to look at Levi, but Levi looks completely unbothered. In fact, he even looks a little smug, his chest puffed up slightly. He even meets Eren’s gaze and smiles briefly.

Okay… so his boyfriend is happy to see him get beat up. Great.

Eren sighs and pulls a hair tie off of his wrist to put his hair up in a bun.

“Who’s first?” Eren asks.

“I’ll go,” Oluo says, standing up and dusting off his pants. “I want to see what all the fuss over this little vampire is really about.”

Eren’s eyebrow twitches. Little? They’re nearly the same height. In fact, as Oluo gets closer, Eren can see that the brown-haired man is actually shorter than he is.

Levi’s smug smile is a little more obvious as he hands out the two wooden knives. Asshole.

“Any rules?” Oluo asks.

“Eren can’t use any vampire abilities,” Levi says. “Say ‘out’ when you accept defeat.”

“That’s it?” Oluo asks.

Levi steps out of the way as Eren’s grip on his knife grows tight.

“That’s it.”

Oluo stretches his arms out in front of himself, smirking.

“Alright, kiddo, why don’t I let you get a headstart? Go whenever you’d like—”

Eren rushes forward and swings his knife into Oluo’s as hard as he can from the side, sending the wooden weapon across the room—thankfully in the opposite direction of where everyone is sitting. Oluo’s expression hardens, and he raises his hands to protect his chest and face. A moment later and he’s reaching for Eren’s arms, probably trying to take away Eren’s knife and use it against him. Eren’s knife arm lowers, trying to get the other man in the gut where he’s not blocking—

“Ha!” Oluo says, swinging his body sideways and out of the way as Eren stabs forward, very similarly to how Eren did earlier that week. “Too predictable—”

Eren swings his leg up and around, slamming his shin into the center of Oluo’s back and sending him falling onto the floor. Once he's down, Eren brings his foot down on Oluo’s back just a little harder than necessary, and Oluo lets out a choked sound, collapsing flat on the ground, unable to get up.

“Ah!” Oluo exclaims, his voice a little garbled.

Eren keeps one foot firmly on Oluo’s back as he kneels down on the floor beside him. He presses his wooden knife against Oluo’s throat, though he startles a bit when the man turns his head and reveals blood in his mouth.

“Ah! Ah!” Oluo says. “I bi’ ma’ ton.’”

Eren frowns.

“You bit your tongue?”

Oluo nods, and Eren pulls his foot and knife away.

“Were you trying to say ‘out?’”

Oluo nods again.

“Sorry,” Eren says, annoyance quickly cooling. “I didn’t mean to make you bleed. I guess I… didn’t know my own strength.”

Did he use any vampire abilities? Eren doesn't think so. He can normally feel when those kick in…

The room is painfully silent as Oluo gradually pushes himself to a sitting position, his injured tongue lolling awkwardly out of his mouth. For a moment, they’re just sitting there on the floor, with their spectators watching them in silence. But soon a voice cuts through the silence, sounding mildly amused.

“Well, well,” Erwin says. “This will be interesting.”

And soon the whole room erupts into noise.

“Holy fuck—” “Shit, I’m going to get my ass beat!” “Oh my God—”

Eren turns to look at Levi across the room as Petra hurries to help with Oluo’s bleeding tongue. The man’s smile is no longer quite as obvious, but he’s looking over at Eren with his eyes positively gleaming, his chest and chin still raised slightly.

And Eren realizes that those little smiles and smug looks Levi sent his way weren’t at Eren’s expense. No, it was just the beginnings of the expression that’s shining on Levi’s face right now: pride.

The knowledge makes Eren’s own chest fill with light-hearted, giddy joy, like he’s a balloon being poured full of helium. He grins widely at Levi, and Levi nods at Eren before moving to pick up the other knife that had flown across the room.

“Who’s next?” Levi asks, holding the wooden blade out towards the noisy crowd by the couch.

They immediately fall silent, at least a dozen pairs of eyes focused on the weapon. Nobody seems to want to volunteer.

This is going to be fun.

~ ~ ~

No one else goes down quite as fast as Oluo does, but that’s because no one else is generous enough to try and give Eren a head start. They make Levi count down from ten, and with the people on the couch shouting cheers and playful insults, the whole thing starts to feel more like a game to Eren than a serious sparring match. Isabel spends half her turn darting around Eren’s arms and trying to kick him in the back—“Levi used to do that all the time! I wanna try!”—and Furlan shouts “Out!” in panic when he sees Eren aiming the knife directly at his throat. Eld and Gunther are a bit more serious about it, but Eren scrapes by with wins by tiring them out and surprising them with a few other moves that he’s copied from Levi over the past couple of weeks.

“So,” Erwin says, getting to his feet. “Is it just Eren who must fight without special abilities, or is that a rule for all vampires?”

Levi shakes his head.

“Just Eren.”

Erwin nods, coming to stand in front of Eren, though he frowns slightly and turns to look at Levi again.

“You may want to call ‘out’ for him, Levi.”

Eren frowns, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t mean to offend,” Erwin says, raising a placating hand. “You’re clearly capable. It’s just that I recalled when we first met you. I thought it might be… jarring to face a vampire in a fight again.”

Eren’s stomach drops, his grip on his knife getting tight. That’s right… When he first met Erwin and Hanji, just the sight of their fangs made him uneasy. He was hesitant to be touched by Hanji, even when they were just trying to help him. Having a vampire rushing at him, trying to fight him, just like that day—That might—

That might send Eren spiraling again.

“I…” Eren swallows down the lump quickly forming in his throat. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Why would you bring that up?” Petra snaps, her amber eyes narrowed into a glare as she looks up at Erwin from her spot on the couch.

“I simply thought it would be better to prepare ahead of time. We don’t have to do this—”

“I’ll be fine,” Eren says. “Let’s do it.”

He needs to. If he can't even handle practice right now, he's just going to get himself killed during the real thing. It's better to start here, in a controlled environment, with a vampire who already knows that he might fall apart.

Eren looks at Levi, who meets his gaze for a long moment. When Eren nods at him, Levi takes a deep breath and starts counting down.

“Ten.”

Eren has to remember that Erwin’s a vampire. He’s going to be faster, stronger, more alert.

“Nine.”

Anticipate. That’s what Levi always tells him. If the enemy is faster than him, Eren needs to anticipate what they’re going to do before they do it.

“Eight.”

Erwin’s going to be much faster than him. But he also already feels bad for Eren. He’s already worrying about Eren’s mindset.

“Seven.”

He’ll probably try to make this quick.

“Six.”

What would be the fastest?

“Five.”

Erwin has a tight grip on the knife. He’s going to use it instead of his fangs. Probably because he doesn’t want to scare Eren more than he already thinks he will.

“Four.”

Erwin will probably charge forward, right at him, using the knife for a straight shot at Eren’s chest.

“Three.”

All Eren has to do is dodge to either side the second Levi stops counting.

“Two.”

Fuck. In a real fight, Eren’s going to have to figure all this out in a split second, won’t he?

“One.”

Eren steps to the side, but when he sees Erwin lunging at him, the world flashes in front of Eren’s eyes. Blue eyes look like vivid, bloody red. The room is so dark. It’s empty. It’s just Eren, alone, with the monster charging at him. His mom—where’s his mom? He can hear her screaming, echoing over and over again in his ears. It’s like fucking tinnitus but it’s her voice, her shout of pain—

“Eren.”

It’s a voice, low and soft in his ear. Eren feels cool skin against his cheek, strong arms around him, and long fingers in his hair. It’s still so dark—no, his eyes are closed.

“Eren.”

It’s Levi.

Eren opens his eyes again, sucking a breath into his trembling lungs. He gets an eyeful of pale skin and pulls away slightly, his hands gripping Levi’s biceps as he tries to regain his bearings.

“S-sorry,” Eren says.

“None of that,” Levi says, his voice still quiet but a little firmer now. “It’s okay.”

Eren raises his head a little more, looking around. The staff of Kuchel’s Kitchen is gathered around the two of them, though Hanji is stopping them from coming too close. The heat of shame burns at Eren’s cheeks knowing they all saw him fall apart, even if it was only for a moment. He tries to duck his head against Levi’s shoulder, wanting to hide away from all the concerned stares—

“You asshole.”

Eren raises his head again, surprised to hear Petra’s normally cheerful, sweet voice raised in anger. He finds her with her fist pressed against Erwin’s chest, a fierce glare aimed up at the big blond vampire with his back against the wall.

To Eren’s surprise, he hears Levi sigh. Like this is something he’s used to, something he’s tired of witnessing.

“I warned him ahead of time—” Erwin starts.

“You made him think about it!” Petra exclaims. “We all saw it! He was fine! You reminded him. You put his head there. You started it. You always—You always start everything!”

Blue eyes narrow slightly, and Erwin tilts his head at her.

“This isn’t about Eren,” he says.

“What are you talking about?”

“Petra,” Erwin says slowly, “I understand that you’re unhappy with me about other things. But some things must be done.”

“No!” Petra snaps, her expression warping even more. “No, no. Things happen because you want them to happen—because you’re a sadistic asshole who can’t just let people live in peace!”

“Petra—”

“No.” Petra pulls back her fist like she’s going to hit Erwin, but it only takes a second for her hand to fall to her side, for her voice to falter. “No…”

Eren looks around the room, thinking that one of these people is going to comfort her, going to help calm her down. But these people who Eren has otherwise seen as one big family are averting their gazes, biting back frowns.

Why?

Eren looks at Levi, but Levi just lets out another sigh and shakes his head.

Why?

If no one else is going to help her, Eren will.

Eren pulls himself out of Levi’s arms. Levi doesn’t stop him, and Eren rushes to Petra, grabbing hold of her arm. Petra flinches and hangs her head.

“I’m sorry—” she starts, but Eren just tugs on her arm, trying to lead her towards the front door.

“Let’s go,” he says.

They step outside without another word. Eren closes the door quietly behind him, and Petra heaves a sigh, burying her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Eren.”

“It’s okay,” Eren says, sitting down on Levi’s doorstep. “But what… what was that about?”

Petra sniffles, dropping down to sit beside Eren.

“Has… Has Levi told you about how the Feral King led to his retirement?” Petra asks.

Eren's mind flickers back to that day, to invisible blood on pale hands. He bites his lip.

“He has.”

“He’s only ever given Furlan all the details,” Petra says. “All the rest of us really know is that Levi and Uncle Kenny left, and only Levi came home. But I… I’m the one who’s always been patching Levi up. Even if he only tells Furlan, I’ve seen. That night, Levi—”

Petra’s shoulders hunch, pressing her hands more firmly against her face.

“That night, Levi had one of Kenny’s crossbow bolts stuck between one of his ribs. I was—I was so used to scratches, to bruises—but even though he had broken the shaft off the hide the injury, I recognized the tip as I pulled it out. Because Kenny always used to brag about the gold-coated bolts.”

Eren’s stomach twists at the image, and he places a hand on Petra’s shoulder. Eren can’t imagine how he would feel, seeing Levi come home to him battered and bruised—seeing evidence that he had fought with his last blood relative. Knowing all the while that one of them didn’t come home.

That maybe it could have been Levi who didn’t come back.

Levi was nineteen then. Eren wonders how old Petra was.

“I was so happy,” Petra continues, “when he retired. I was so happy to see him pursuing other things, having his own dreams… but then Erwin—”

Petra’s hands drop from her face and slam into her knees, her amber eyes narrowed in anger as she falls silent. Eren bites his lip, thinking back to how Levi originally explained everything to him.

“Erwin… Told Levi about the Feral King,” Eren says after a moment.

“Levi, was out, Eren!” Petra exclaims. “He wasn’t going off and risking his life every day! And I know, I know that we can’t just let the King keep doing what he’s doing, but I—but I just—why did it have to be Levi?”

Eren’s grip tightens on Petra’s shoulder.

So, this was why. Why she was always so angry, and why no one bothered to try and make her feel better.

… Because Levi’s not going to change his mind. They’ve probably all known that for years. And Eren came to Petra’s side, thinking he could help her, thinking he could ease her somehow—

But Eren’s not going to change Levi’s mind either. Changing Levi’s mind never even crossed Eren’s own.

“Sorry, Petra. I…”

Petra shakes her head, heaving a sigh.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly. “I know… Levi’s doing the right thing. So is everyone else. I just… I can’t forgive Erwin. Levi was out, and he was the one that brought Levi back in. I can’t—I can’t just let that go.”

For a second, they just sit there in silence. Eren’s hand falls away from her shoulder, and he stares at his lap. He’s not going to change Levi’s mind. He can’t. But is there… something he can do, to ease Petra’s mind a little? Something he can say? Maybe it’s silly for him to think so.

“Do you fight, Petra?” Eren asks.

“I know how,” she says. “But I haven’t since we got the restaurant. None of us really have, but I don’t even practice. Sort my own little protest.”

Eren nods, staring down at his own hands in his lap.

“I’m… not good enough at it yet,” Eren says. “But I… I’m trying to get better at it so that when the time comes, I can be there for Levi. So that when he’s in danger, I can keep him safe.”

Eren turns to look at Petra, showing her a small smile.

“So, I’ll do my best so that when we go out to fight the King, he’ll come back to you with not even a bruise for you to have to patch up.”

Petra’s amber eyes grow wide for a moment, getting a glossy sheen as she manages a wobbly grin.

“If you can,” she says, “that would be amazing.”

Eren grins at Petra as she wipes her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Just be prepared to patch me up instead, okay? I’ll probably be fucked up.”

“Eren!” Petra exclaims with a gasp, though she’s starting to laugh. “No! That’s not the point!”

“It’ll be fine,” Eren says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll just be all bloody, and beat up, but Levi? Totally fine. Trust me.”

“No, Eren!” Petra says, slapping him on the arm, and now Eren’s laughing too. “You’d better be joking, or Levi’s going to kill me.”

“Yeah,” Eren says. “Obviously.”

...Well, mostly, anyway. It’s a joke in the sense that he’s not planning on doing anything too self-sacrificial. But if Levi were about to get hurt in front of him… Well, Eren’s not sure he’d be able to just stand there and watch.

But that’s just why Eren has to get good at fighting before then! So that everything will turn out fine, for both of them.

“Good,” Petra says, squeezing his arm. “But really, I’m glad that Levi has you. You’re a good guy. He’s lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Petra and Eren both jump at the sound of a voice behind them, and Eren turns to see Levi standing in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. Eren’s mind whirls—he was that unaware of his surroundings while talking with Petra? Eren’s sensitive ears should definitely have caught the sound of the door opening—

Eren loses his train of thought when he looks up at Levi and sees the man’s gray eyes clouded, his eyebrows and lips pulled down into a conflicted frown.

“Everything okay?” Eren asks.

Levi’s gaze flickers from Eren to Petra before flattening back into indifference. Eren bites his lip—if there is something wrong, it’s bad enough that he doesn’t want Petra to hear. Eren will just have to ask him again when they’re alone.

“I’m fine,” Levi says. “Just thought Petra might like to know that Isabel and Hanji convinced Erwin to let her use him as a temporary punching bag as a way to make up.”

Petra perks up immediately.

“I’m not sure about ‘making up,’ but I will beat him up,” Petra says brightly, squeezing Levi’s arm as she bounces up to head inside. “Thanks for letting me know.”

When Petra’s gone and it’s just the two of them, Eren sends a questioning frown Levi’s way as he gets to his feet.

Levi meets his gaze and manages a slight smile.

“Later,” Levi says, brushing his hand across Eren’s cheek briefly. “Let your brain rest for a while.”

“The last time you said you were going to talk to me about something later,” Eren says, “later never came.”

Levi rolls his eyes.

“Then I’ll explain both things la—soon. Alright?”

“You promise?”

“I do.”

Eren hums, leaning down slightly.

“I think you might need to do more to convince me.”

Levi scoffs, grabbing Eren by the chin and bringing him even lower.

“You’re such a little shit.”

“Your little shit.”

Levi laughs just after their lips meet because of Eren’s words, so the kiss is a little shorter than Eren would like. But Eren loves Levi’s smile and Levi’s laugh, so he lets it slide.

“Alright,” Eren says, “I’ll wait. But tell me soon, okay?”

Levi shakes his head before reaching for Eren once more, letting their lips meet again before answering.

“I will.”

“Ugh,” Isabel groans loudly from inside the house. “How long are you two going to be disgustingly in love out there? Erwin is literally letting us take turns punching him! Your sweet nothings can wait until later! Come back in here and have some real fun!”

Levi flips her off without even looking back, but Eren grins at her over Levi’s shoulder, the lack of malice in his voice contrasting with Levi's immensely annoyed scowl.

“We're coming!" Eren exclaims, grabbing Levi by the shoulders and spinning him around to face the inside of the house.

"I'm surrounded by children and idiots," Levi says.

"Even me?" Eren asks, and Levi snorts.

"You don't want me to answer that question."

Eren punches Levi in the back, though not hard enough to hurt.

Eren’s eyes wander to the crowd gathered in the center of Levi's living room (Erwin is standing in the center and looks utterly unphased, even as Petra throws a punch at his chest that looks like it should really hurt) and Eren's smile grows even bigger. This is Levi's family. Petra and everyone else care so deeply about him, and even though Levi is always pretending to be annoyed—and sometimes not even pretending—Eren knows that Levi cares a lot about them too.

This is… the kind of family Eren always wished he could have. A big, loving family that sticks around even despite any issues that crop up between them.

Eren wants to get stronger. For himself, for Levi, and for this. This family that Levi has built around himself.

And even though he failed spectacularly during his match with Erwin, there is hope bubbling up in Eren's chest. Hope that he really can.

Eren's going to keep them safe. He swears that to himself.

And maybe, when he's strong enough, he'll make that promise out loud to them too.

#ereri #riren #ereri riren #ereri fanfic #riren fanfic #fanfiction

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natusvincere · 3 years

Text

A Talk to Remember || Morgan and Vic

Who: @mor-beck-more-problems and @natusvincere Where: Morgan and Deirdre’s house When: Current What: Vic wants her dagger back, Morgan wants to chat first. Warnings: Mentions of suicide ideation

It was a familiar trip to Morgan’s home, but somehow, each time Vic made the journey there, the unfamiliar anxiety associated with the journey swelled a bit stronger. Today was no exception. She kept telling herself that the only reason she was even taking such a journey was to get her dagger back, but even she wasn’t so disillusioned to think that was the whole truth. The multiple spare daggers she had back at home weren’t the only thing that proved it. The things Morgan had been saying had been swimming in her brain, and she didn’t know if she wanted to hear more of it or set her friend straight for good. She’d been mulling over it for weeks now, exhausted at the back and forth her mind was constantly flip flopping between. One minute she’d be convinced Morgan was wrong and ready to write her off and the next she’d be drowning in guilt at the idea of Morgan being right. The latter seemed to be happening more frequently. After several moments of internal struggle, she found herself rolling her eyes as she buzzed the doorbell, switching her weight back and forth to quell the anxiety. Her face remained blank when the door opened, but her stomach flipped uncomfortably. There was so much she wanted to say, but “I was in the area” was all that came out of Vic’s mouth.

Morgan knew Vic had too much pride to come straight to the house as soon as they made their plans and too much pride to never show up at all. But it still came as a surprise when the doorbell rang and her friend, or once-friend, appeared on the other side. Morgan took several moments to process the woman’s presence and decode whatever Vic was hiding under, I was in the area. Maybe nerves, maybe agitation, but hell if Morgan knew what for, exactly.

“Uh. Hi.” She said at last. “Can I help you…?”

The silence between them was loud, and Vic was sure she’d squirm right out of her skin if Morgan didn’t say anything soon. And then she did, and Vic wanted to squirm away even more. She looked between Morgan and her car, contemplating if she should just turn and run back. Instead, she said, “You have my dagger. Did you forget?” There was something keeping her from holding Morgan’s eye contact, her gaze instead traveling from her chin to the doorknob to the plants she kept on her porch. “I just want it back. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, I remember,” Morgan said, smirking. “Come on in, have a seat in the kitchen. I have to grab your knife from the shed anyway, so I can get stuff for a blood cocktail while I’m at it. Your kind can still taste stuff, right?” As frustrated as she was with Vic, she got some satisfaction in confounding her as often as possible. “That wasn’t a request. You’re gonna deal with my rusty southern hospitality or you’re not getting that knife back. How’ve you been, anyway?”

Vic couldn’t suppress her eye roll at the sudden change of plans. She had not expected to be invited inside, and it threw her off completely. At the invitation, though, she stepped through the door, her eyes quietly searching for evidence of the girlfriend Morgan spoke so fondly of. “That wasn’t the deal”, she said, hanging by the doorframe of the kitchen. “First it was I have to come by to get it, now we have to chit chat?” She blinked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not thirsty, thank you. And I’ve been great, just dandy, Morgan.” No existential questions coursing through her brain at all hours of the night. None at all. Her voice held a bite of sarcasm that she usually shielded Morgan from. “How about you?” She hadn’t planned on being cross, and yet here she was pushing away the only person who’d been patient enough to listen for years. She wanted to rip her own hair out.

“In Texas, it’s rude to turn down hospitality, Victoria,” Morgan said. “But, if you must know, I’ve been doing alright. I’ve recently become the guardian of a really great kid, I’ve just managed to hold onto my job for another semester, and my girlfriend and I are like, pre-engaged. I don’t know if that’s a word, but I don’t know what else to call deciding we want to get married but wanting to wait for a better time to do some fancy proposal stuff. Don’t know what we’ll do about the cats whenever we eventually honeymoon but--oh!” She squealed as Moira padded up and butted her head against her legs. Morgan laughed and picked up the little cat, smiling indulgently. “But we’ll figure it out. It’s a long ways away.” She held out the cat to Vic. “Do you wanna hold her while I get the stuff? She’s real friendly and with how much me and Deirdre carry and cuddle her, she’s used to cold bodies. Doesn’t bother her a bit.”

“We’re not in Texas. But I’ll be sure to remember to never relocate there. It sounds horrible,” Vic answered, though she was slowly losing the bite and bitter tone she had first entered the home with. She blinked in surprise at the new information, letting herself leave the doorframe and enter the room further. She was intrigued, admittedly, and desperate to know more. “A guardian? For a child?” She couldn’t imagine how something like that just fell into someone’s lap- even someone like Morgan with all her southern hospitality and gentle charm. The next bit of information Morgan fed her was perhaps even more intriguing. “Engaged to be married?”, she asked, wishing to clarify. The term was so different now than it was when she had been engaged. Barely anyone was betrothed anymore. Instead, young people of all classes and creeds had a choice in who they spent their lives with, and even freedom to leave when things became unbearable- and with barely any societal backlash.

She had been deep in thought when the cat was held out to her, and so she leaned back suddenly, looking at it in front of her with her eyes nearly crossing to refocus. She wasn’t sure if she trusted that the cat wouldn’t hate her- she smelled like dog and death and any cat worth her salt might be wary of such a thing. She looked up at Morgan hesitantly before she reached out to it, pulling it against her chest immediately. “What’s her name?”, she asked, scratching behind the small beast’s ears and pressing her lips against its head. “And where are your w- Deirdre and child?”

“Well, a grown child but, yeah,” Morgan said with a shrug. It still felt weird to say, and her results were definitely mixed at best so far, but playing nonchalant while Vic sputtered to catch up with what a woman’s life could be in this time gave her a shot of confidence. “And, technically not engaged because no rings, which we both want, but, I guess we have what you used to call an understanding?” She put on her best BBC voice as she said the word. “We’ve done the grownup part, but not the romantic, fluffy part. You know that’s a thing two women can do now, right? We don’t have to surrender our happiness by default, and we don’t have to hide it either.”

Her voice tapered off, softer, as she watched Vic handle the kitten. The vampire already knew where to scratch, and how to hold her, and Moira was curious and interested as ever at the prospect of making a new friend. “Her name is Moira. She’s only a year and a half old right now. Still a big baby.”

As she backed away, ready to give Vic some time to get a little less tightly wound, she couldn’t help but choke down a snort. Did she just try to call her family her women? “Uh, Bexley, the girl I take care of, is out with her girlfriend. Deirdre has a thing. Which means you’re stuck with me. When I get back in a minute, at least. I’m sure you’ll find a way to manage, right?” She winked, then backed her way out to the garden yard. She intended to take just a little bit longer than she needed to. She wanted Vic to have the chance to feel like a person and she didn’t know if there’d ever be another one after her sort-of-friend went home.

“However did something like that fall into your lap?”, Vic wondered curiously. There was no way the government could just place a teenager with a stranger to be raised unless they asked for it, right? Had Morgan been seeking out raising a child all along? Had Vic been too self-involved to even realize that it was something so important to her? Her focus was brought back to Morgan, and she had to press her lips together to suppress a smile at Morgan’s silly voice. “An understanding”, she repeated with a nod after she pulled herself together. “It seems that that’s what most young people come to these days before engagement. I know- I remember when the law allowing people to get married as passed”, she recalled nonchalantly. In truth, she had sat by her television with rapt attention that day back in 2015, unable to focus her attention on anything else until she knew what the ruling would be. “Have you ever hidden it?”

“Moira”, she whispered, pressing her forehead into the cat’s. “You’re rather funny looking”, she remarked, giving the beast another scratch behind her ears. “Winnie is 5 and still a big baby. I doubt she’ll ever grow out of it.” Vic had been wishing to see both Morgan’s new teenager and her… betrothed, for lack of a better word, but for now she’d just have to settle for groveling for her own dagger. Her shoulders seemed to drop when she was left alone with the cat, as if tension had physically escaped her body. She let Moira on the table, holding up a hair elastic she had in her pocket for her to swat at.

Moira rolled onto her back, lazily grabbing at the elastic and the tips of Vic’s fingers, eliciting a small chuckle from the woman. “How lucky you are to live without worries”, she whispered, playing tug of war with the cat.

Morgan left Vic’s questions linger in the air for when she got back. She wasn’t sure if ‘fallen’ was the right word, or how to tell what had happened without sounding a little conniving, even desperate. And then the other thing. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Vic assumed she’d always been out and confident. Vic seemed to think the best and worst of everyone, whichever way kept them as far away from her as can be.

She plucked the knife off its shelf in her shed and wrapped it up in a nice cloth and put it in the bottom of a basket, which she then piled with some bottles and then filled with blood from the murder shed. No death should go to waste, not if she could help it.

She lingered in the entryway when she returned, beaming as she watched Vic play with Moira. Animals had a funny way of revealing people, and Moira was showing a version of Vic that had been hiding for years. “Am I interrupting?” She said, beaming. “I’ve got everything right here, but that doesn’t mean there’s any rush.” She passed Vic a bottle of blood to make her point. Relax, make yourself at home.

“Also, I owe you some answers: the twenty-something kid is…complicated. We weren’t actively looking for each other, but we had similar social circles, she was my student for a semester, and she was staying with me here for a while before anything became even semi official. We just sort of…fit. Little by little. I feel kind of unfairly lucky to have her around.” Morgan shrugged it off, not wanting to get into her shortcomings. This talk wasn’t about her. “And as for the other thing: yes, I hid myself a lot and very well. The area I grew up in wasn’t kind to people like us, but thanks to ignorance, most assumed that a woman who likes flowers and dresses could never be one of them. And I say this casually now, because I’m out and I’ve slept around and dated, and now I’m this—” She gestured vaguely to the house, the frame of her life. “But that doesn’t mean those years didn’t kill little parts of me every day, parts that’ll never grow back. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t lonely and dark, or that I didn’t ever wake up hating the world almost as much as I hated myself. It just means the hurt has scarred over, and I get to be a whole person now. And I need you to know that you can be a whole person too, Victoria.”

“Yes”, Vic teased, albeit pulling the elastic back from the creature, choosing instead to scratch behind her ears again. She gazed inside the basket, her eyes searching for the dagger. When the bottle was placed in front of her, she closed her eyes and swallowed, only opening them again to gaze at Morgan. “Was this harvested ethically?”, she asked, her hand wrapping tentatively around the bottle.

She didn’t feed in front of people- she didn’t much like to feed at all, truthfully. It felt animalistic and vulgar and monstrous to do it so callously, but Morgan seemed to expect her to drink right here, as if they were simply eating lunch in the park together. Didn’t she see it was so much more horrible than that?

Her hand flexed and tightened around the bottle as she listened to Morgan explain. “A found family”, she clarified with a nod, having heard the term more than once but never really grasping what it could mean. “Is Deirdre also comfortable with this arrangement?”, she wondered. Her explanation of her youth was a lot easier to comprehend- a life hidden and masked was definitely something she relate to. “How old were you?”, she started. “How old were you when you decided to let people know?”

She looked away as Morgan concluded her speech, leaning back in her chair in shaking her head. “I’ve been hiding parts about me and letting them die since long before I realized I’m attracted to women, Morgan”, she explained, her eyes distant as if she were remembering some far away memory. “It’s not just… that. It’s not as simple as you want it to be. I can’t just undo who I’ve become. Not after 400 years.”

“It’s not human if that’s what you mean,” Morgan said with a roll of her eyes. “What kind of person do you take me for? It’s a very nice deer from yesterday, hit by a truck and left by the road. A fine vintage in the world of animal blood.” She watched Vic wrestle with this knowledge, or maybe just being treated as a person and a vampire at the same time, and sat back, making herself comfortable.

“Deirdre’s fine. She’s...we’re not doing this particular thing together, per se, we’re in different places as far as that’s concerned, but she doesn’t resent me or the girl and she does care for her well in her own way. I don’t know what more I could ask for.” She sighed, feeling the space between all she knew she could have and all she wanted and all she dared not ask for.

Vic’s next question took her out of her thoughts. She straightened and looked at the woman, her expression plain, her voice frank. “I was eighteen when I told my mother, because I thought my gayness was causing the literal curse that brought suffering to my family, that it was the reason my dad had died driving me to work. And I was twenty-four when I went to my first women’s only gay bar. And I was thirty, when I stopped being too scared to let women get close to me at all. It’s not something that happens all at once for anyone, I don’t think. So even if it is simple, or straightforward if you prefer, it’s not easy. A lot of straightforward things are really, really hard and that’s why we come up with complicated ways of getting around them. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try, Victoria. You can always make new choices.”

With a lick of her lips, Vic let herself fully grip the bottle at the new information, her fingers fully wrapping around it as the need to study it dissipated. “Okay”, she said hushed and tentatively. Her eyes watched Morgan’s as she brought the bottle to her lips, but she put it down before she let herself take a sip. She didn’t like to eat in front of anyone because for one, not many of the few people she let into her personal life actually knew what she was. It was easier to keep it a secret, because the opposite would most likely mean losing them anyway. But two, there was so much wrongness associated with it. So much death and hurt and pain and… shame. It made her feel vulnerable in a way she didn’t appreciate, and vulnerability in front of anyone was a recipe for disaster.

And then there was the issue of fangs and red eyes while she was feeding.

It was too much, especially for Morgan to see her like that. Like the monster she was deep down inside. She let go of the bottle, choosing to cross her arms casually on the table instead as Morgan explained more.

“She seems incredibly understanding”, Vic remarked, sitting back a bit in her chair. She wanted to ask ‘Do you think she would like me?’, but it felt childish to ask something so frivolous. It felt childish to care.

As she listened to Morgan, her expression crumpled into one of sympathy. “It must have been an incredibly awful burden to feel that way, Morgan. Of course it wasn’t, you know that now, right? I mean… to me it seems…”, she paused, gesturing around Morgan’s kitchen, “that all of this is because of who you are, not in spite of it.” Morgan had a way of waxing poetry with her words, an artist in her own rite. But her poetry couldn’t bend reality, not always.

“New choices, like putting an end to turning vampires in to hunters?” She knew this is the conversation they’d been dancing around all along- the reason why she’d attacked Morgan in the woods and the reason she couldn’t face her after. She knew the whole truth now, besides the details, and it was clear she didn’t approve. “I decided after ten years that I’d make up for the monstrosities that come with being who I am now forced to be. And the only way I know how to do that is by doing what I’m doing, Morgan. Who am I if I just let myself be one of them?”

Morgan saw Vic’s hesitance to drink and met her eyes sympathetically. Apropos of nothing, she rose when the woman finished, saying, “I think I need a snack too, actually.” One Pyrex of brain balls later, she was back, and nibbling on them with the help of a kebab skewer. After some more silence, she found the words she was looking for, or at least the only ones she knew she was going to find.

“It was terrible, yes. And even after I found out that, no, we were cursed because my great grandmother Agnes pissed off the wrong witch, eighteen years of hating myself didn’t just disappear. Sometimes I wondered if the curse made me gay so I could suffer more, and worse. That isn’t true either, but my point is: it took time and therapy doing things differently for me to figure that out. And yes, I think not conspiring to murder every vampire you meet might help you figure things out. I think not lumping yourself in with the people who wronged you would help. What I really think will help is admitting that every sapient vampire is as different from each other as you and I are. You are smarter than reducing your world to a flat simplicity for the sake of convenience. And I think you can be braver than that too. I think you might even want to be.”

Another long, thoughtful bite of brains.

“Who is it that you think you’re being forced to be? You’re in control of your own choices, what monstrosities are there for you to ‘let’ yourself do that you don’t want?”

There were two deliberate blinks from Vic; the first one of confusion, and the second of understanding. Morgan was showing her that it was okay, in her own way. Their diets weren’t all that dissimilar, and neither was the way of acquiring them, she supposed. Was hers really all that worse simply because she was a vampire? This wasn’t a question that would have even crossed her mind a month ago.

Letting out a slow breath, she built up the courage to grip the bottle again, taking a sip before she had the mind to stop herself. Her eyes changed rather quickly, she was sure, and she could feel the fangs sprouting from her mouth; always so ready to reveal what she truly was. Her mind flashed back to the early days after she was first turned, when she would stubbornly stare into mirrors for hours at a time, as if looking long enough might change the lack of reflection that stared back at her. Later, when she’d finally succumbed to feeding, her sire taunted her with the description of how she looked during (a punishment, she was sure, for her insistence that she would see her own reflection again). She spent years smashing every mirror she found after that.

She hoped Morgan wouldn’t bring attention to it.

“But the curse… is it over now?”, she asked, concerned. Morgan was right that years of self-loathing didn’t just go away because you wanted it to, but the thought of going to therapy about such a thing felt so foreign to her. “I’m not murdering anyone. I’m a middle man”, she insisted, her body becoming rigid. “Do you think hunters are murderers?”

“Forced to be a ...vampire, I mean. I didn’t ask to become this, Morgan. I would have much rather… I was so close to d-...”. Vic swallowed, closing her eyes before taking another sip from the bottle. “This wasn’t who I was meant to become. This isn’t the Twilight, Morgan. We do not sparkle in the sun and attend high school classes. You wouldn’t believe… the thoughts that ran through my head when I was first turned. The ones that do now if I don’t feed often enough. They’re not natural...they’re not right. And what if stopping all vampires I can is the only way I can stop myself from becoming who those thoughts want me to be?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s very over. Witch magic fades after death, so after the ghost-girl who cursed us killed me a year and a half ago—” Morgan made an open gesture. “No more curse. No more magic. Just one zombie girl. Also, I would like to point out that I said conspiring to murder. Which, you have to admit fits the bill, right? And yes, I think hunters are murderers. All of them. Even the ones I like. If they intentionally kill a sapient being, they’re murderers. Some murders are…’necessary’ for lack of a better word. Because some people will refuse any solution that doesn’t end in death. But just because Vampire Serial Killer Number One won’t stop until they make someone stop them, doesn’t make what happens to that vampire anything but murder. If you’re going to extinguish a life from this world, you need to admit it and carry it. And I say that as someone who has murdered several people.” The soft humor her words had started with faded as she went on. By the time she stopped to pause, she could barely keep her eyes on Vic. This was bad, bad, dangerous shit to be admitting to. And even though she could fight, even though everyone knew where she was and who she was meeting with, Morgan’s cold blood prickled into ice under her skin with fear.

She swallowed a lump in her throat (guilt; even if she didn’t have regrets for all of her crimes, she definitely had guilt) and pressed onto everything else Vic had brought up. “What you are isn’t who you are. And I get it, I do. I didn’t ask to be what I am either, and I spent a long time wishing that I hadn’t. That I had just died. It wasn’t a bad death. It was better than whatever’s waiting for me now. And it would have hurt so much less. And I didn’t feel like Morgan Beck, witch and teacher and chronic mess. She died, and I—this person who used to be her and will become someone else—woke up. But who I am, Morgan Beck the Second, the Undead, is not defined or limited by what I eat or what happened to me.” Slowly, she reached out a hand for Vic’s. “I don’t know if you know this, but zombies are born starving. And when we starve, the world is…small and clear. There’s one feeling, something strong and powerful and good and sick, and all you have to do is try to satisfy it. The ground is just a path to feeding. The wind is just a hindrance, or something that carries the smell. We don’t even think, really, we just do. And the early cravings…sometimes, I could feel it coming. Like having a second voice in my head, another shadow, something that took people apart like they were pieces of cow at the butcher, something that remembered what parts taste best, after brains, of course. And I live in fear of that…impulse, that piece of me. But I also live knowing that it isn’t me.” Reaching out farther, in earnest now, she looked into Vic’s eyes, pleading, “Is there anything you thought when you were young and lost and hungry that’s so different from what I did? And—-who told you that exterminating someone else will change something that’s a part of you? It won’t. You can’t change yourself by killing or erasing other people. You can’t change yourself with all the hatred in the world. You’ve had four hundred years; if it was possible, that would’ve happened by now. So what if—what if the way to become someone you like and can be proud of is to accept that you’re a real person who can be kind of wonderful when she gets out of her own way?”

“Oh, it was her who-... That makes sense.” Vic blinked, processing what Morgan was saying to her. After a long pause, she responded. “I suppose, if that’s the sort of cut and dry definition we’re using, that would make me a murderer, too.” She didn’t break eye contact with Morgan until the other woman looked away, and even then she still studied her face. “In the beginning. I didn’t know there was any other way to be. And, well- ...I suppose I murdered my sire as well.” Her eyes fell back to her hands at that, as if she could witness herself doing it all over again. There was no shame associated with what she did to her sire, but her stomach did flip flops at admitting it outloud. How sweet it had felt when her thirst for revenge was finally satisfied. How sick she felt to revel in that sweetness. With a look back up at Morgan, it appeared she might have been experiencing a similar back and forth about her own murders.

It would have hurt so much less. That was a thought that Vic had never heard articulated into words before. Wishing for death felt so morbid and wrong, but had she been allowed to succumb to it, the hurt could have ended right then. And for so long, she was sure she was alone in that feeling. There were thousands of vampires and zombies walking around as if everything were perfect- like they were happy their life had turned into an afterlife. Vic couldn’t believe how affirming it was to hear someone share her sentiments. She looked down at the hand that settled into hers and listened and listened and listened as more of Morgan’s experiences seemed to mesh with her own, mixing and swirling like paint on a paper, until you could no longer differentiate between the two unless you tried your hardest.

She looked up into Morgan’s eyes, fresh tears prickling at her own. She shook her head at the question posed, though it was slight and small, and if Morgan blinked, she would have missed it. Nothing was different about their origins, not really. Not when you dug deep and looked at them transparently.

There was a long, teary pause before she finally answered again. It was a collection of composure, more than anything. “I wouldn’t even know how I would begin to stop what I do, Morgan. I’ve hurt… so many people. And interacted with so many slayers who would do the same to me if they found out the truth.”

“I know,” Morgan said, coming around close to Vic and pulling her into a hug. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard or that it won’t hurt in its own way. But I am saying that it will be better than where you are right now. And you are a person who deserves a chance of happiness and peace and love. And you can be forgiven. And you can choose different for yourself. I’m saying you’re worth trying for. Okay?”

Against her better judgement, Vic let herself melt into the hug. She let Morgan’s words cover her like a blanket, warm and reassuring and hopeful. She wanted to believe what she was saying- that if she tried hard enough, everything could be okay, somehow. It seemed much more likely that Morgan was wrong, but in that moment, she didn’t care. She was seen. Her experiences, as wild as it sounded, weren’t only her own. And as she and Morgan held each other, Vic realized that that might have been the biggest evidence of hope she could ask for.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

#suicide tw #p #p:morgan #p:attr

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alonely-dreamer · 3 years

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Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 36: Dangerous Friends

Summary: Mackenzie and Elijah go to Marcel’s party

Pairing: Elijah x OC

Words: 3314

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there. I’d like to thank @eywizard for beta reading this chapter for me!

Masterlist

On her knees, the seamstress focused on the needle, touching up the pants of her client’s suit as he admired himself in the mirror on his right.

“Damn, I do look good in a suit,” he said, making his friend in the cap laugh.

It wasn’t unusual for the seamstress to answer house calls, no, the only thing unusual about this client was the odd things he said. She felt weird as she focused on her work. She could hear the two men, but not quite comprehend what they were saying to each other, as if the words wouldn’t stick to her brain, turning into an alphabet soup she couldn’t read.

She thought she had heard names, Tina McGreevy and Joshua Rosza. What was the TV saying about them? Perhaps they were missing. No, it wasn’t that. Wait… who were they talking about again? Her mind was foggy and the more she tried to focus, the foggier it got.

“My guy at the docks is gonna come forward as an eyewitness, say he saw those two drunkenly fall into the Mississippi. They’ll be dredging for weeks, no one will come looking around here,” said the man in the cap, whose name she thought started with a ‘T’… Theo? Thibault? No… It was that.

“That’s good, considering one’s dead in a dumpster behind the county morgue and the other one’s a vampire now,” her client said with a chuckle. “Anything else?”

The words danced in her brain, refusing to form a correct sentence, refusing to make sense. As she tried to think back to what had just been said, she inadvertently pricked herself with her needle.

“Ow!”

She sat back on her knees and looked at her bloody finger. The man, whose name she thought might be Mark, crouched before her with a smile.

“Allow me, darling,” he said as he took her hand and brought the injured finger to his mouth.

She let him do it, even though her entire body was screaming at her to get up and go. Her mind was loud with alarms, screaming at her that it wasn’t safe, but she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything but smile. His friend spoke up again.

“I sent four nightwalkers to look into a werewolf sighting in the Quarter. I haven’t heard from them since.”

Mark, or whatever his name was, lost his smile as he let go of her hand and sighed.

“That makes ten dead nightwalkers in the last week. You think the werewolves are back in town trying to start some trouble?”

“Look. I know you and Klaus are friends, but the fact is, since the Originals showed up…”

“Oh, come now, Thierry, you’re not still upset about that little toxic werewolf bite I gave you, are you?”

The seamstress barely registered the stranger who had just come into the fitting room. She felt like she was supposed to ignore him, to ignore them, to silence them out, and so she did.

“I see you’ve given him free rein of your compound now, too,” Thierry said with disappointment and disapproval.

“Yes. Well, seeing as my family and I lived here, built the place, in fact…”

“All right, come on,” Mark, or perhaps his name was Maxwell, interrupted their argument calmly, “you know the drill. Thierry is my guy, inner circle. Klaus is my old-time friend and sire. He’s also a guest here,” he reminded his friend. “Peace, all right?” he asked Thierry who nodded with a grimace. “All right,” he nodded as well. “What do you need, my brother?”

“I don’t need anything, just wanted to let you know Elijah accepted your invitation.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled. “I hope you told him the rules.”

Klaus laughed. “He knows the rules, though I can’t promise he’ll follow them.”

“What about the witch?”

“Mackenzie? She used to love rules, would rather die than break them, actually. Now… not so much. But, no worries,” he added quickly to reassure his friend, “tonight is a party, no one expects a fight.”

“Right,” Marcel smiled unconvinced. “Let’s just have fun, eh?”

***

“So, how’s Matt?” Mackenzie asked, picking up a strawberry from the bowl on the kitchen counter right in front of her.

The cooks were busy cooking food no one asked, or wanted, compelled by Klaus to act like they were serving kings and queens. The kitchen was filled with desserts that Hayley was convinced would make her fatter than her pregnancy.

“Sleeping,” Rebekah’s voice came through the speaker.

“Where are you again?”

“We reached Amsterdam a couple of days ago.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is actually.”

“So, I guess you’re not gonna be there for my birthday, then…”

“My gift is already in the mail, it should be there in time.”

“I was hoping to see you.”

“Aw, do you miss me?” the Original vampire mocked over the phone.

“Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course, I miss you, but let me tell you, the phone system is definitely one of the best creations in the past century.”

“Yeah, well I was actually hoping to spend my birthday with my friends, you know, but Katherine said she had no intentions of coming anywhere near Klaus ever again, so…”

“So what? I’m your backup friend?”

“I’d have loved to have you both here but since you guys all hate each other, I think it would have just ruined the day.”

“You’re probably right. Just spend the day with Elijah, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to do anything you want. Birthday or not…”

“Fine, don’t come, it’s not like we can actually have a party anyway, in our secret hiding place away from Marcel…”

“Why don’t you just come join me in Europe? Leave Nik alone, he doesn’t deserve your help…”

“Well, that’s true, but I can’t just leave Hayley here alone with him…”

“You’re right, that sounds like a particularly cruel thing to do.”

“Anyway, have fun in Amsterdam then.”

“And you have fun at that party of yours, show Marcel what you’re capable of.”

“And how do you suggest she does that, Rebekah?” Elijah asked as he entered the kitchen.

Mackenzie smiled as she saw him, and leaned into him as he went to place a kiss in her hair.

“Brother, finally, you deign to talk to your poor sister…”

The Original rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic, sister.”

“That bastard little thief stole our city and declared himself King, maybe you should show him he’s nothing but an ingrate little…”

“Alright, alright,” Mackenzie cut her off with a chuckle. “It’s a charity dinner, ‘bekah. We’re expecting champagne, good food, and dancing, nothing more.”

“You’re so boring. No wonder Kol hasn’t come around to visit you.”

“Ouch,” Mackenzie frowned. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“Heard from him recently?”

“He’s somewhere in Brazil, I believe,” Elijah answered.

“What the bloody hell is he doing there?”

“Who knows what our brother’s got in his head.”

“You got that right… Well, Matt is waking up, I have to go.”

They said their goodbyes before hanging up, Mackenzie still eating from the bowl of strawberries that was almost empty now.

“Do you even want to go to this thing?” she asked.

“No. But Marcel must have something in mind, and I’d hate to go against his plans.”

She smirked. “That’s so nice of you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I am very nice,” he whispered before placing a kiss on her lips. “In fact, I have many nice things I want to do to you right now.”

“Ew, please, stop.”

The couple turned towards the kitchen doorstep to find Hayley standing there with a look of disgust on her face. Mackenzie rolled her eyes playfully as she took a step back from the vampire.

“What can we do for you, Hayley?” Elijah asked the newest member of the Mikaelson family.

“Nothing, I just came to stuff my face with the biggest cake I could find…”

“We’ll leave you to it then,” he nodded before he gently took Mackenzie’s hand and led her out of the room under Hayley’s uncomfortable gaze.

***

So far, everything was going well. Elijah and his witch were behaving remarkably, the Original had already signed a check, and had been dancing with his companion ever since. Klaus was right. They looked unbearably in love. The silver satin dress she was wearing was remarkable as well, no doubt a gift from Elijah, and it complemented her set of diamond jewelry best. A swiss blue topaz gemstone rested above her cleavage, the necklace looked ancient, royal, almost, as if it had belonged to a generation of royalty and had somehow found its way to her. He figured many “lost” jewels had found their way in the Mikaelson collection over the years. He watched them carefully, tried to eavesdrop on them too, but they were smarter than to believe they’d get any privacy in a room full of vampires, and kept their conversation as polite and as normal as possible, as if they knew they had an audience. Eventually, Marcel had better things to do than to spy on the two lovers, and even managed to completely forget about them as Cami had finally joined the party.

“They spend their nights and days with Klaus - you’d think they’d be used to the presence of an Original by now,” Mackenzie complained about the pairs of eyes that hadn’t left them ever since they had entered the compound.

Marcel had gone above and beyond for this party. Dancers, acrobats, the finest chefs and the finest champagne… All the guests were having a great time and were happy to open their wallets to the charity of the night.

“I don’t think they’ll ever get used to us,” Elijah replied. “After all the stories they’ve heard about us, we were a myth to them until we arrived here.”

Mackenzie scoffed, wondering how long it would take for her irritation to turn into something more dangerous.

“If only they knew…” Elijah started.

“If only they knew what?”

“If only they knew they were worrying about the wrong person,” he grinned with pride.

She smirked back and nodded as she looked around at Marcel’s nightwalkers. “Indeed.”

That’s when she saw it, or rather him, a vampire she had come to learn was named Diego, entering the party wearing a shirt and jeans and an unhappy look on his face.

“Looks like something’s wrong,” she said as she watched him approach Marcel, obviously nervous about interrupting his time with Cami.

Diego whispered something into Marcel’s ear, and they could see on his face something was wrong indeed. Marcel started looking around and stopped as he found Elijah and Mackenzie surrounded by dancing couples. He frowned before he made their way to them.

“Something wrong, Marcellus?”

“Yes, actually, Elijah, something is wrong. Where’s Klaus?”

“I’m right here,” the hybrid said as he appeared behind him.

“Good, come with me.”

The three Mikaelsons looked at each other with an amused curiosity. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t their problem, and if it bothered Marcel that much, it meant it was probably a good thing for them.

They followed him out of the compound, heard him order Diego to find as many nightwalkers as he could and join them at a place he called the Traps, which is where he was taking them.

“For a week now, my guys have been dying,” Marcel started his explanation. “There’s a werewolf in town who’s been killing my nightwalkers, and a witch or two have been helping it, using magic, undetected,” he informed them, barely concealing his anger.

“How is that our problem?” Elijah asked, not bothering to hide his lack of curiosity.

“Rumors are you’re at fault.”

“If we were killing your people we wouldn’t make a secret of it,” Mackenzie said in all honesty.

Marcel stopped in his tracks and turned towards her. Unbothered by his anger, almost bored, and definitely annoyed, she raised an eyebrow at him, defying him to attempt anything.

“Is that so?”

“That is so,” she confirmed, her eyes falling on Thierry standing behind him. “Want me to prove it?”

Marcel stared at her, put all of his anger in his eyes, tried to see something as she stared back, anything on her face, even just a little bit of fear, but he saw nothing. What the hell could she have gone through that had made her so tough? Or maybe it was arrogance? No, it wasn’t just that. She had something, she was someone, someone powerful, who wasn’t afraid of him, because he was no threat to her. Not only did she have Elijah’s protection, but she also didn’t need it, and that was scarier than Klaus himself, and as he finally found fear, it was unfortunately not hers, but his own.

“You were taking us somewhere?” Elijah eventually said after a minute of silence.

Marcel was trying to calm himself down, trying not to let the smirk that had appeared on the girl’s face get to him. He regained his composure, and his usual bright smile came and replaced the angry look on his face.

“But, as you are here, now I know you had nothing to do with the attacks on my men, and I thought we could go and see for ourselves who’s been causing so much trouble in my town,” he said as if he were offering them something.

“Sounds like a party,” Klaus smiled maliciously, encouraging Elijah and Mackenzie to relax.

Diego and a dozen nightwalkers had found them before they had even reached the Traps, and signs of a fight could be heard from down the street. Mackenzie could sense a werewolf and at least two witches inside, and vampires, dying one after the other.

Marcel gave Diego the order to attack, to kill whoever it was that was killing his own men in his own town. Among the screams of rage and fear were laughs - laughs Elijah and Mackenzie thought they recognized. She looked up at him and the look on his face confirmed her doubts. He heard it too, but she also felt it. A smile creeped onto her face.

“Call back your men before they all get killed,” she said, and he heard the amusement in her tone.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s only advice.”

“Advice you should seriously consider,” Elijah added.

But Marcel shook his head no and ordered more of his men to go in with him. They couldn’t even see what was happening inside. The bar had no window, only a door that was now broken. But they could hear everything that was happening and that was enough to give them an idea of the scene. Mackenzie chuckled, seriously debating whether or not to intervene.

“Perhaps we should do something,” Elijah suggested.

“What is going on?” Klaus asked, obviously irritated he was left in the dark.

Mackenzie smiled as she moved to go inside. She snapped the necks of every vampire there with a wave of a hand, and they all fell to the ground. All but Marcel. The bar was completely destroyed. Only a couple of chairs and tables were still standing, but most of them had been used as a stake and were now resting in the hearts of a dozen vampires. She walked past a temporarily dead Diego and took in the scene.

A man, the werewolf, was standing at the end of the room, with blood dripping from his mouth, holding a stake in his right hand, the broken chair he had ripped it off of in his other. He smiled at her as he saw her, the blood on his face made him look funny and she held back a laugh. A blonde witch was near him, waving at her, her free hand magically pinning a vampire to the ceiling. The last witch sat on the bar, her hair, her face, her outfit spotless, as if she hadn’t been part of the fight at all, but Mackenzie knew she had the highest body count.

“Mackenzie!” they all greeted in unison.

Her smile grew bigger and a laugh escaped her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came for your birthday, of course,” Olivia said as she jumped off the bar.

God, Mackenzie thought. She looked so much like Margo.

“Mom says hello.”

“Does her Majesty know you’re here?” Elijah asked as he stepped inside the bar with his brother.

“Of course,” Felicity answered as she let go of the vampire she was holding against the ceiling. He fell with a cry, and her boyfriend seized the opportunity to stake him.

Marcel would have stopped him and killed them all, or died trying, if Mackenzie didn’t have him pinned to the wall.

“Lying to Margo is a very bad idea,” Oliver said.

Olivia gave Mackenzie a hug and whispered in her ear: “Heidi says hi.”

Mackenzie’s heart skipped a bit and as she backed away to look at the Princess, the witch winked. Elijah frowned.

“We have so many gifts,” Felicity said as she hugged the elemental.

“You don’t turn twenty-years-old every day,” Oliver continued as he approached them.

“Who are you?” Klaus asked dryly, tired of being left out.

“Klaus, these are my friends from Germany,” she introduced them, “guys, this is Klaus.”

“Well, you definitely picked the more handsome brother,” Oliver winked at her and was rewarded by his girlfriend’s elbow in his ribs.

Elijah chuckled. “You’ve been here for a week?”

“Yeah, we got here early, we wanted to meet the um…” Oliver stopped himself. “You know…”

“How do you know about it?” Mackenzie questioned.

“The oracles told mom. I mean, it’s not something you see every day.”

Of course the oracles would know about Hayley and the baby. It made them wonder who else knew, and if they needed to be more cautious.

“It’s just werewolf curiosity,” Oliver shrugged.

“Are Heidi and Alexander going to be joining us?” Elijah asked.

“And are they going to kill more of my guys?” Marcel worried.

“Not their type,” Mackenzie informed him.

“To be fair we wouldn’t have killed anyone if they had left us alone,” Felicity said.

“But they went on about how werewolves are forbidden in the Quarter, and that really pisses a werewolf off, if you know what I mean,” Oliver growled.

“Werewolves are forbidden in the Quarter,” Marcel snarled.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“And you are?”

“I suggest you stick to giving your own men orders,” Olivia said with royal authority, “you are no match for us, as you can see.”

“We don’t take orders from vampires,” Oliver added salt to injury.

“I heard witches weren’t allowed to do magic in their own town,” Felicity continued, “another one of your rules, I suppose?”

“Shall we kill him?” Olivia wondered.

Klaus laughed. “Please, my friend here has been ruling over the Quarter for decades now, he’s just doing his job.”

“If his job consists of stopping witches from practicing their craft and hunting werewolves, then he is an unfit ruler and a change of leadership is needed,” Olivia said. “A good ruler promotes peace among all, and if you’re unable or too weak to achieve that, then you must be replaced.”

“I think there’s been enough killing for one night,” Elijah tried to defuse the situation. “Why don’t we take you to our place, so you can rest?”

“As you wish,” Olivia nodded. “We could use a home for the remainder of our stay.”

“I’ll let my brother show you to our place,” Klaus showed them out of the bar. “I will stay and help my friend clean up this place.” He gave them an obvious fake smile that neither of the three companions paid any mind to.

Mackenzie and Elijah looked at each other knowingly. Here went Klaus’ good mood.

**********

#the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvd #the originals #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #elijah x oc #oc #reader #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #elijah x reader

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forevercaroline · 3 years

Text

Running from the devil

A new fic, There is smut in this. For @turtlesandalpacas, @lillycarlyn, @princesscaliban

A long blonde haired woman looks around the practically deserted area they found themselves she is not thrilled. “This is the last time you pick where we stop, thought we were going somewhere topical.”

Her blonde companion replies with a low sexy voice. “We are, I need a drink and not my fault you fell asleep.”

“What can I say boring human boring blood.” The long blonde haired woman runs a finger along her lips making sure there is no more blood.

“We could of transported there.”

She puts her arm through his elbow. “I would love to transport there but he would know and find us. I’m not losing you he’s already out for you since you tried to take his throne.”

“You are not innocent in this either.”

Xxx

Dorian Grey is wiping out a glass when he hears someone enter his bar, he turns around and looks up to the balcony above him. There are two strikingly beautiful dirty blonde people one female and one male. The female has long blonde wavy hair, is in a black mid thigh length dress with a tan leather jacket and black heels. She looks younger then her male counter part who has sharp cheek bones and cheek level blonde wavy hair too. He has black jeans and a black dress shirt that is unbuttoned low enough that most of his bare chest is exposed.

Dorian bites his lip the amount of sexiness that is excluding from the two blondes walking down the stairs is astounding. “What do we here, How may I help you?”

The guy answers for both of them, “I will have absinthe and my sister will have a blood cocktail.”

Dorian goes to get the blood as that is not usually an item people want when the woman turns in her chair to look at the scenery of the bar. He places the drinks in front of the blonde siblings so he thinks. “I haven’t served a vampire in centuries.”

“We’re a dying breed, which means if one walks into your bar give her what ever she wants.” The long haired blonde stirs her cocktail sticking the stir in her mouth to test the blood type.

“May I inquire your names?”

“Caroline.”

“Caliban.”

Dorian’s eyes widen in surprise you can’t live in the supernatural world and not hear the names Caroline and Caliban but until now that’s all they’ve been names nobody has ever seen them before.

Xxx

“Nicky darling what can I get you and miss Spellman?”

Both blondes look over at the brunette and bleach blonde teens. Caroline leans over and whispers in Caliban’s ear he lets out a small laugh. He address the teens awaiting their drinks. “Hello beautiful.” Caliban runs a hair through his hair to get it off his face.

Caroline leans forward and drapes her arms over his shoulders and dangling them in front of his chest her head next to his. “ Don’t bother darling brother miss Spellman is just to innocent to play with us, now Nicky seems just right.”

Both teens look at the blondes talking with each other and still touching and being very close. While Dorian is getting their drinks Sabrina Spellman address them, neither her or Nick have seen the blondes in here or in Greendale before. “And you are?”

“Caliban.”

“Caroline.”

Nick looks over at Dorian he knows those names but it’s impossible Dorian nods.

Xxx

Sabrina and Nick go sit by the fire and Sabrina asks. “Do you know them?”

“Everyone has heard the legend of Caroline and Caliban until now that’s all it’s been a legend.”

Sabrina raises and eyebrow she’s never heard the legends, nor has she heard her aunts or Ambrose talking about them. “Father Blackwood hates the legend and has banned it from the academy. Caroline is a vampire and centuries ago she tried to make others like her but they died every time, she eventually went to the dark lord and asked him why everything she makes dies when he told her that she was a demon and that demons can not create life. The dark lord did tell her if she really wants something to go to the pits of hell but if she makes something there she can never return to earth and must remain in hell with the other demons. When she gets to the pits of hell out of the clay comes this beautiful dirty blonde haired man. The three kings of hell made him to over throw the dark lord. Caroline didn’t trust other demons and especially the kings of hell. She took the man dressed him gave him shelter and his name Caliban. Legend says they have the strongest relationship hell has ever seen. Centuries later Caliban does try to overthrow the dark lord with Caroline by his side they are unsuccessful and have been running ever since.”

Sabrina looks over at the blondes at the bar, Caroline has her hand on Caliban’s upper thigh her fingers resting on his inner thigh while he pushes back a piece of her hair their faces inches apart from each other.

“They’re talking about us.”

Caliban smiles showing off his perfect white teeth and his perfect smile, “How did it even start?”

Caroline shrugs and notes sarcastically. “Maybe it was Lucifer or Lilith.”

He lets outs out a small laugh and downs his drink. They get up to leave and Dorian tells them that there will be a party in the club tomorrow and they both are invited. Sabrina watches as they both leave their hands on each other’s backs.

Xxx

“Aunties, Ambrose have you ever heard of Caroline and Caliban?”

Zelda takes a drag of her cigarette and answers. “Why do you ask?”

“ I met them today.”

Zelda, Hilda and Ambrose all look at each other. “Nobody has ever met them. that’s not possible, you must of been mistaken no doubt drinking absinthe in a club in the middle of the afternoon.”

Sabrina doesn’t make eye contact with aunt Zelda “It wasn’t the middle of the afternoon. I heard them correctly so did Nick and Dorian.”

After Hilda and Zelda leave Ambrose tells her. “Witches believe in free love but vampires are even more free love then witches.”

Xxx

Since they are staying in Greendale for a perhaps a few days they need a home but they have taste and even though its just the two of them they like to live lavishly. They find a mansion situated away from the other homes. First they have to get rid of the woman living there which when Caroline looks her in the eye and compels her to invite them in and give them the house the woman physically can’t say no.

They keep the woman around for food for Caroline and once they send her off Caliban comments. “Should we break in the house.”

Caroline smiles back at him devilishly, “ It is tradition and I know how you find shirts so restricting.”

As she said that she was unbuttoning the few buttons that were done on his shirt. As soon as they are undone he pins them to the bottom of the staircase and attacks her lips, pressing his body into hers. She moans into his lips and pushes his shirt off down his arms landing on the floor.

He moves his hands down her body lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist. Her jacket falling to the floor. They continue to kiss as he walks them up the stairs. She peppers his neck and lips with kisses moving from his neck to his ear and bites his ear he growls.

They find the master bedroom and he spins Caroline so he can unzip her dress as he peppers her neck and shoulder with kisses he bites her neck not enough to draw blood, she moans as she leans back into him as a hand slithers into his hair pulling at it.

She is thrown on the bed and pulled to the edge legs wrap around his waist As he slides in she moans and wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down while he is thrusting in her she is kissing him.

They both have lived long lives, Caroline longer as she is older but its their relationship has always been different then the other relationships in hell. With them its been I have your back you have my back and actual trust there is a foundation there. In hell you can’t trust anyone they will stab you in the back literally if it makes them look good to Satan. Both blondes wish they could go back to hell but they can’t when they tried to take the throne Lucifer sent some demons after them and Caroline killed one of them he was attacking her. They fled and now Lucifer is after them and can track them if they use their gifts he gave them. So Caliban can not use his fire teleporting and the only vampiric abilities Caroline uses is drinking blood and compelling only when it’s necessary.

Since they have this foundation of a friendship they get why the rumor of them being siblings started and after hearing the rumor then seeing them be themselves which is being very close and intimate gives people mixed messages.

After a couple more thrusts she flips them and is riding him. She rakes her nails down his chiseled chest while his hands go to her hips to steady her. Since he is made of clay he does not bleed so as she is raking her nails down his chest she’s not drawing any blood but the nail marks are there.

Caliban more then Caroline since her vampiric healing have lash marks on their backs, from being lashed one hundred times. Caroline taking him from the pits, naming him, giving him clothes. Caliban for going with Caroline when he got out of the pits of hell instead of the three kings of hell who actually made him. The scars have healed on Caroline’s back but the memories and the pain will never go away. Caliban’s back is scared up from the lashes, Caroline did try to make them go away but couldn’t. Over time they have healed a little are not as noticeable as they once were.

Screams can be heard all through out the house as they two enjoy breaking in the new home. Caroline lays down on him her head laying on his shoulder and an arm goes around her slim figure.

Do you think Sabrina is the real one.”

“Yeah she sound exactly the same. Don’t worry my prince of hell you will have your thrown.” Caroline leans up and pecks him on the lips. One way or another they will rule hell.

#caroline forbes #caos caliban #my writing #running from the devil

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

Photo

Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Warning HEAVY SMUT FILLED chapter! Happy 2021 and my first update of the year! Hope you guys are doing well! Felt a little glum but decided to turn that energy into an update! Feedback/reblogs/likes is greatly loved and appreciated! Fingers crossed I did these two justice haha! -Jen

Chapter Ten

"Welcome home, Agatha."

It was as if some unseen force had cast itself upon her and rooted her in place. Agatha stared, slightly slack jawed at the sight before her, mind struggling to keep up with what she was seeing. Zoe, seemingly unharmed, lay there fast asleep by the vampire's side. Dracula's fingers drummed lazily against the couch's arm as he patiently waited for the woman's response. He, unlike her, was not stunned by this unplanned reunion. After all, he was the responsible party for this surprise "get together".

"You…" Agatha started, her eyes darting around the room. "How did you-"

"An invitation, of course." Dracula said with a mere wave of his arm. "From young Zoe. I came by to see if you were available and unfortunately, I was met by the babysitter." Agatha's eyes grew wide and the vampire grinned, knowing very well what she was thinking. "Oh, ease up, Agatha, Mrs. Avery is just fine. I sent her on her way back home. Told her you had asked me to watch Zoe until your return, seeing as we work together and all." He sighed, shaking his head. "I honestly hadn't anticipated for it to be so easy."

"Get out of my house!" The former nun growled, pointing a finger towards the door. "This is practically breaking and entering! A crime! I could have you arrested!" That would surely go over well, but the logistics weren't at the top of Agatha's thoughts. "Just because a seven year old-a child-tells you that it's okay to come into someone's house doesn't mean it is!"

"Actually, in my rule book, it is most certainly allowed." The Count smiled, reaching for the remote. "As long as they inhabit it." With that, he flipped the television off. "And Zoe lives here so it works in my favor."

Feigning a yawn, the vampire stood up from his spot on the couch. The young girl, still deep in her slumber, only shifted slightly and stretched out. Agatha watched her anxiously unsure if she should make a go for it and grab her and run, or find a means to take Dracula out. Perhaps once and for all. As she stood there debating, the Count brushed past her and made his way into the kitchen.

"Are you coming?" He called over his shoulder when the former nun didn't immediately storm after him. "I doubt you'll want to wake her up while we talk."

"Oh I think you've said quite enough for the night." Agatha hissed, clearly growing more heated. "Aren't you the least bit concerned about everything you've violated our terms and conditions? What's stopping me from calling the Foundation or that lawyer of yours right now?! Right at this very minute?!"

"You won't." Dracula replied simply. "And even if you did, what have I done exactly? I was invited in. No one was injured. There is nothing in any clause that says who is and isn't allowed to grant me access." He let out a quiet chuckle. "But I'm not concerned anyway. And I could easily argue my concerns of you not returning my texts. I think Dr. Bloxham would be delighted to learn about that."

"Get out of my house." Agatha warned, trying to sound as threatening. "Or I'll…" Her eyes flickered around the room and landed on the first thing that sat on the counter. A spatula. Great. "I'll make you regret not doing so."

"Oh really?" Dracula snorted, taking a step closer. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

She was thinking. Thinking hard. But it was difficult to concentrate when facing off with a vampire. She was angry. So damn furious that it felt as if she was truly boiling inside. But as she stared back at the Count, trying to hold her ground, that fury. That force. Was slowly starting to transform into something else. A storm the likes of which she'd never encountered.

"You were saying?" The vampire encouraged, moving even closer to Agatha. "Come now, Agatha. Finish that train of thought of yours. What do you want to do to me?"

He had her nearly pinned against the wall, her back pressed tightly to it as he loomed over her with those dark, hungry eyes. Agatha's heart pounded as blood flushed her cheeks, something stirring within her very core. Undeniable lust.

"I'm not asking you again." She forced out, somewhat taken aback by how labored her breathing had become. "Leave my house at once."

"You know you can't force me to do that." He replied in a low, velvety whisper. "It wasn't you who invited me in." Dracula reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair behind the former nuns ear. She shivered. "This isn't anyway to treat your guest."

Her knees felt weak as she fought the primal urge to lunge forward and give into whatever horrible desire this was. It wasn't right. She wasn't right. But then why were her mind and body at a civil war with one another? Agatha bit down on her lower lip, toes curling inward.

"Go…" She nearly pleaded as he closed the distance between them. "Just…" But his mouth was already on hers before she could finish.

Lost. Somehow that felt like the right word to describe it. Trapped between the present and this convoluted fantasy. Yet as their kissing grew more fervent, his cool hands touching the curves of her face, everything but this moment seemed to tumble away. When the vampire broke away to allow her a moment to catch her breath, Agatha nearly protested. She stared at him, too flustered to imagine how ridiculous she must look right now.

"I could take you here…" He suggested, nodding towards the empty kitchen table. "Or the countertop, that would equally suffice." Dracula moved his hands to grip Agatha's forearms as if to steady her in place. "There are lots of places I could have my way with you, Agatha Van Helsing. That is, if you'll let me in."

Zoe. The seven year old was still fast asleep in the living room. The former nun could feel the vampire's nails digging into her flesh. Hot. Christ how she felt so hot. What the hell was happening to her? This was his fault. His doing. Surely it had to be. And yet, she needed him. Required him to fill this sudden carnal craving within her.

"Zoe…" Was all she managed to rasp out, knowing well enough he'd understand. "Zoe."

"Ah, concerned about disturbing the child." He chuckled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a wide grin. "I suppose we wouldn't want to scar her...No, that would be less enjoyable for the both of us." He exhaled and glanced down towards the dark hallway. "Bedroom it is."

She tried not to dwell on the fact that lay lingering in her mind about how he knew where her bedroom was. Momentarily pushed away the unwanted thoughts of him traversing around in there admiring her personal things. Instead she froze that bit of her mind and allowed him to take her past the threshold and into the unlit room.

A bundle of nerves. A nest of live wires in a thunderstorm. Agatha was already beginning to tremble as Dracula placed a kiss to the corner of her mouth before trailing his way down just above her jugular. His teeth lightly scraped the tender skin, but the vampire made no move to bite her. Instead, he pressed his lips to the pulse and lightly sucked. The former nun let out a soft moan, surprised by how unstable she felt on her own two feet. Dracula smiled against her neck, arms wrapping around her waist to keep her upright. He was enjoying this way too much.

"...I thought you wanted to take me…" She gasped out, leaning into Dracula as he continued to indulge himself. "Not commit whatever this…" Agatha's breath hitched in her throat as he playfully nipped at her. "I thought you wanted sex."

"I do." Dracula admitted, letting his tongue run lightly across the sensitive spot of her throat. "But foreplay is a worthy appetizer." He straightened up, and even without much light, Agatha could see the thirst in his eyes. "Sit down." He commanded, motioning to the bed. "A good guest brings their host a gift and I think I've figured out what to do about mine."

She could've told him to leave. Demanded it again. Perhaps even called the Foundation and explained everything. But she was angry. Stressed. Confused. And, as odd as it was, mildly curious. Count Dracula was not her friend. He was an intruder and yet...yet...her she was. Sitting down on her mattress looking up at him. Wondering exactly where this was going and hoping Zoe would remain asleep.

"Take your pants off."

Now that had her snapping back to reality. Agatha blinked as she stared at Dracula. The vampire simply gazed back as if what he said hadn't been well...bold. When the vampire didn't retract his statement, she found herself undoing the top buttons of her pants and slowly pushing them down. Before she could react, Dracula snatched them from her grasp and tossed them to the side.

"That was rather uncouth of you." Agatha muttered, her cheeks flushed as she now sat before him in some rather unflattering underwear. "You could have at least…" His eyes were fixed on her and suddenly, she felt at a loss for words. "You could have…"

"Now that dreadful pair of underwear."

His voice, though firm, was not threatening in the slightest. It was as if he was instructing her. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Agatha did as she was told and discarded the piece of clothing. So there she sat on her bed, legs pressed tightly together in front of her supposed enemy.

"Open your legs."

The words were quiet, almost gentle, and a shiver went up Agatha's spine. Suddenly the woman felt as if she was being transported back to her teenage years. The awkward time of romance. Agatha had never been with anyone. Never even had a true boyfriend really. And the witty, strong willed person she'd become was okay with that. Sex had never been an issue. In fact, it had made becoming a nun an even easier feat. But that was about to change.

"I've never had sex before." Agatha said quietly, not looking to meet Dracula's stare.

"I'm well aware of that." Dracula almost scoffed. "I'm centuries old, Agatha, and while I am no Christian, as far from it as one can be, I do know what regulations many branches of nuns, monks, and priests follow." He smiled once more, but it almost seemed genuine. "I suppose it's a good thing I have enough experience for the both of us then." He nodded his head. "Now go on and lie back. Close your eyes."

It was as if something else had gotten possession of her mind. A side of her that was ignored, that shoved aside the nagging notion that what was happening. What she was doing in that moment, was and would be a regrettable mistake. But mistakes were only that if they occurred. And Agatha's rationale had long since left the moment she felt the vampire's cool hands touch her inner thighs.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you believe a vampire's favorite spot on a human is the neck." Dracula stated, letting his nails lightly scrape against her bare flesh. "But that is a common misconception."

Agatha bit down on her lower lip, trying to control her uneven breathing. "Then enlighten me." She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut as his fingers brushed ever so lightly against her entrance. "Where does a beast like you prefer to feed?"

Dracula let out a low chuckle. "The femoral arteries are a rather tasteful source." He explained simply. "They're location is in both legs and travels all the way to the groin. One can even detect a pulse." The vampire smiled, his eyes flickering between Agatha's rising chest and tense facial expression. "And I can assure you that yours is very, very fast."

Before Agatha could utter a reply, both of Dracula's hands caught either side of her legs and held them in place. Suddenly, the vampire's tongue ran across the length of her slit and Agatha saw stars. A strange sound escaped from between her lips, but the Count held fast. His movements were slow, methodical, and the former nun's core throbbed with a fire that she'd never experienced.

"Relax…" Dracula murmured against her. "You are too on edge. Shall we try something different?"

It was a rhetorical question, she knew that. And yet, when the vampire pressed a kiss to her swollen lips before lifting his head back up, Agatha was certainly not prepared for what came next. Her eyes fluttered open, hands gripping the sheets as she finally caught Dracula's stare with her own. Again he smiled, a dark, mischievous grin that the former nun was too lost for words to comment.

"Tell me how this feels."

Agatha bit back a yelp of surprise as she felt the vampire's fingers touch the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her entrance. The bud throbbed as he methodically moved in a circle causing her to squirm. Christ it felt good. It shouldn't feel good. She didn't want it to feel good. But it felt fucking fantastic. The Count chuckled, smirking as the former nun's back arched in pleasure, a low moan escaping from deep within her throat.

"Lost your voice have you, Agatha?" Dracula snorted, increasing the pressure in his strokes. "If I may be so bold, I'd go as far to say that this encounter is our most productive yet. All things considered."

"Shut up." Agatha managed to choke out. "You...I…"

"Hm?" The vampire inquired with false interest. "Are you trying to tell me something, Agatha?" His fingers slid down and, with precision, he slid one digit inside of her. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

The world around her was spinning. He was making her feel ways in which she never thought possible. If she was true to religion, she would be most certain that this man. This creature. This vile being was the Devil in the flesh. But as his finger pumped in and out of her, her wetness slick on him, she wanted more. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. How stupid she felt. How utterly flustered. How absolutely, completely, entirely aroused.

"Are you alright?" Dracula asked, a second finger joining the first. "You look as if a cat has gotten a hold of your tongue."

"Pants off..." And even Agatha was momentarily surprised by her demand. "You...pants…"

"Demanding." The vampire replied, unable to hide the amusement in his tone. "Though I am not opposed to it." He smirked, removing his fingers from Agatha. "You might as well remove the rest of your garments during this intermission."

The woman frowned at him, but took off her blouse and unhooked her bra, now completely nude in front of her supposed enemy. Dracula slipped rather easily from his garments, laying them neatly off to the side as opposed to Agatha's which had just been casted. As he stood before her, as naked as the day he was born, she took in the infamous Count. His form was immaculate. Muscular. Dark hair that sprouted like a thick rug on his chest. As her eyes travelled downward, she finally settled upon his cock. His large length already well erect and most likely eager to have been released from the confines of the man's pants.

"You can touch it if you wish." Dracula said, snapping Agatha from her stupor.

Hesitantly, Agatha reached forward and lightly touched Dracula's shaft. She tried not to look at him, knowing he was watching, as her fingers curled around it. Her eyes flickered over to the head and noticed how it was already beginning to weep a bead of precum. The former nun felt juvenile. Silly. And holding him, examining him like this didn't help any. Letting her hand fall back onto the bed, she finally met the vampire's stare.

"This is wrong." She exhaled as Dracula moved beside her on the bed. "We are wrong."

"Perhaps…" The vampire muttered, sliding closer so their bodies touched. "Maybe it is wrong. Maybe it isn't." He leaned in and kissed Agatha, a hand cupping her face. "But we are here, aren't we?"

"Mm…" Agatha hummed against him, closing her eyes once more as Dracula went to position himself between her legs. "This is all a dream. It feels like a dream."

"I assure you, it isn't that." The vampire said, eyes taking in the sight of the former nun's form twisted in the sheets. "And I would most certainly know. But if you must," and he leaned in close to her ear. "We can always pretend."

When Dracula thrust himself inside of her, Agatha let out a small grunt of pain. It burned. Ached as her body adjusted to his size, her hymen that had been the curtain of her virginity now stripped away. Tears pricked her eyes, but when the vampire's mouth met hers, she soon began to forget about the fading pain. Each thrust, more forceful and vigorous than the last bringing pleasure and ecstasy.

Agatha's nails racked down Dracula's back, but they left no visible marks. Everything around her was a blur as the mattress creaked under them, trying to withstand their motions. It was all building up. The tense. The emotions. The heat. And soon, the former nun began to teeter on the edge.

"Dracula…" She managed to gasp out.

"Just let go, Agatha." The vampire instructed, his own voice rough and astonishingly labored. "Give into the release."

It was as if she had been hit with a bolt of lightning. Every nerve ending in her body was alight as Agatha let out a cry, the tsunami of euphoria finally breaking through the floodgates. She was already trembling, her body coming down from the aftermath when Dracula followed suit, white hot bliss shooting through the vampire. He growled, an animalistic sound as he pressed his face into the nun's neck. But much to the woman's relief, she felt no fangs pierce through her skin.

For a few moments, they lay there, in an odd sort of embrace. Then, without so much as a word, Agatha rolled off to the side planting some space between the two. Already she was beginning to feel the effects of the adrenaline wearing off. The energy she had spent long since past. Perhaps, in a way, it was a good thing. Being too tired to really process it all. Closing her eyes, she refrained from looking at Dracula as if some small part of her feared that, if she did, the figurative roller coaster would begin once more.

"I'd like you to leave now." She mumbled tiredly. "Please."

She half expected to hear some response. A snide comment of some sort. Instead, she heard the other side of the bed creak as if a weight was being lifted. Footsteps met her ears, but she still did not allow herself to look and see what the vampire was up to. Another sound, the door knob turning, and Agatha relaxed. Why Dracula said nothing, she was unsure, but sleep tugged endlessly at her consciousness. He was gone, or so she very much hoped. And that's what truly mattered.

Exhaling softly, she tugged the mess of blankets and sheets over her body. Tomorrow she'd face the reality of tonight's action. But for now, Agatha would sleep. A deep, dreamless sleep where the dreaded vampire could not follow. Where she could focus on nothing. Not on the Foundation. Not on this bloody assignment she'd been coerced into. And certainly not Count Dracula. Her breathing slowed, thoughts growing fuzzy as the strings of reality were snipped away and darkness fell.

XXX

When Agatha's eyes opened the next morning, she found herself alone in bed. For a brief, marvelously ignorant moment, she tried to convince herself that maybe, just maybe it had all been a dream. But when she took in the state of her room-the twisted sheets, her carelessly tossed clothes from the day before, and the unmistakable muscle aches, she knew it all to be true. Swallowing and muttering slurs of curses under her breath, the former nun got out of bed and slipped on a robe. At least for now, she'd have a moment to…

"Aunt Aggie!"

Agatha felt every fiber in her being tense up the moment she opened the door. There, at the dining room table, sat Zoe with what looked like some form of dessert like breakfast. She gave her aunt that same goofy, childish grin she knew so well. Powder sugar covered her lips as she dug her fork into whatever dish she was eating.

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to get up." A familiar voice broke through the silence. "I was considering giving you breakfast in bed. But now that you're up, I suppose you can just take a seat while I get it ready."

Standing proudly in her kitchen as if he owned the place was none other than Count Dracula. He smiled at her, his expression edging on smug as Agatha took all of him in. Dressed in the same attire as the night before, he now also sported a flower printed apron with pink lace that had been a birthday gift to her from a co-worker. She never wore the damn thing and how he came to find it, she didn't nor wanted to know. The vampire held up a spatula and motioned to a pan on the stove.

"Clătite." He explained before she had a moment to ask. "A Romanian form of crepes if you will. These I rolled with strawberry jam-it was all you had in your refrigerator unfortunately." With a mischievous glint in his eye, he held out a plate to her. "Extra whipped cream?"

#Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Dracula #Agatha Van Helsing #BBC Dracula #Dracula x Agatha #Caught in a Riptide

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hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis · 4 years

Text

Trouble in Paradise

Request: hey, could you write a marvel x the originals crossover where the reader is dating Bucky (if comfortable writing him, if not let me know and i can change it) and she introduces him to her family (the Mikaelsons, she’s Klaus or Rebekah’s twin) and like they recognise him from him being The Winter Solider and like all hell breaks lose with a fluffy/happy ending? thanks :) - @simonsbluee

Fics: The Originals x MCU crossover

Word Count: 2.5k

You and Bucky Barnes had been quite the couple ever since you two met in New York a few months ago through your mutual friend, Steve Rogers.

~A couple of months ago~

“So you’re not gonna go all fangirl on me when you meet the rest of the Avengers, right?” Steve asks as you make your way to the doors of the Avengers compound.

“In your year of knowing me. Has Y/N Mikaelson ever fangirled?” You tease back.

“No.” He chuckles. “No, Y/N Mikaelson has never fangirled,” He responds opening the door for you. The two of you head into the elevator. As you make your way out you see Tony Stark in his shop and a few others in the living room on the other side.

“Oh..My...God. You didn’t tell me THE Iron Man was gonna be here!” You whisper fake surprised as Steve just looks at you annoyed.

“Really, Y/N. You told me--” He starts.

“I’m kidding. Chill,” You slap Steve on the chest before walking into Tony’s shop.

“Hi, and you are?” Tony asks as you walk in.

“Y/N. Y/N Mikaelson. A good friend of mister Cap America.” You say looking around.

“Well, Steve didn’t tell me we’d have a guest today. Anything of ours is yours.” He offers.

“Can I have a suit?!” You say excitedly. “Kidding but your work is great,” You say after seeing Tony’s look of disapproval.

“Come meet everyone else,” Steve says leading you out of the shop.

“Nice to meet you, Tony,” You say as you leave the shop and he nods his head.

Steve leads you to the living room as you find pretty much every other Avenger except Thor and Clint Barton, “Hey guys, this is my good friend Y/N Mikaelson. I hope you guys don’t mind but she needs a place to stay for a while and I thought here would be great.” Steve tells the crew. They all say agreeing words in response.

“I know who all of you are, so no need for introductions really,” You tell the group.

“I’ll show you to your room.” Steve turns to you and leads you down a hallway. You guys take a few turns through the maze of the compound before finally reaching your room. You set your stuff down as Steve begins to explain the “rules” of living in the compound. Even though they were really more guidelines if anything.

“I’ll let you settle in. Come get to know everyone once you’re ready.” Steve says making his way to his door.

“Hey, Steve. Wanda told me you were over here.” A man says making his way to Steve.

“Hey, perfect timing. I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine who’s staying with us.” Steve says as you make your way to your door.

“Hi, Y/N Mikaelson. You must be the Winter Soldier.” You say putting your hand out for him to shake.

“Please call me Bucky, nice to meet you,” He smiles shaking your hand.

And that’s where it all started.

~Present Day~

You wake up next to Bucky as your phone buzzes violently. Still being tired you completely ignore it, not even sparing a glance. You lie awake for a few moments before finally checking your phone. You find 17 missed phone calls from your older brother Niklaus. Not even caring for your other family members you don’t even call back and turn over to cuddle Bucky. You only got a few seconds before your phone starts to buzz again, only this time it was your other older brother, Elijah. Being annoyed enough about the calls you rush out of your room to answer it.

“I told you to never call me, any of you.” You respond angrily.

“Well, hello to you too little sis,” You hear Elijah’s soothing voice respond.

“Did Nik put you up to this? If so, tell him I’m not speaking to him. Then again he’s probably standing right next to you,” You spurt out.

“We were planning on a little family reunion, a ball in fact. And would love for you to come and join us. Even heard you had yourself a new boyfriend, we’d love to meet him,” Elijah disregards what you had just told him.

“Have you guys been keeping tabs on me? And what makes you think I’d come to your little ball?” You respond.

“Sweetheart, we got eyes all over the world.” You hear Nik say in the background.

“I knew it,” I say rolling your eyes.

“Mother, Finn, and Kol will be there,” Elijah states.

“Wow, Nik decided to finally forgive them? And if mother is going to be there. No thanks.” You say and hang up the phone. You head back into your room to find Bucky is finally awake.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks clearly noticing the pissed look plastered on your face.

“Yeah just some family drama,” You say making your way to him and give him a soft peck on the lips.

“You know you’ve never told me about your family except that you and they are the oldest vampires on earth,” He states.

“I’ve kinda cut myself off from them. That’s why I never talk about my family.” You sigh.

“Well, it was clearly important enough for you to answer the call.” Bucky points out.

“If you call answering because your sick of constantly hearing your phone buzz a million times, then sure,” You respond crossing your arms

“What did they want?” He asks rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“It’s not important,” You brush off and head to your dresser.

“If they called you that many times, it is,” He tells you.

“You’re not gonna give up, huh?” You turn around and scoff.

“If something is bothering my one true love this much. Then yes, I’m not gonna give up.” Bucky walks over and cups your face in his hands.

You sigh, “They’re planning some sort of family reunion ball thing. And found out I have a boyfriend, they want to meet you,” You reluctantly tell him.

“I would love to meet and get to know your family. Let’s go,” Bucky suggests.

“No. Nuh-uh. If we go all hell is going to break loose. In fact, it’s going to, regardless if we go.” You state.

“I can handle myself. If I can survive a fall from a train and live 70 years, barely aging. I think we’re good.” He states back.

“No. It’s out of the question, Buck. I’m not risking your life just so you and my family can play get along.” You tell him rustling through your clothes.

“If it makes you feel better we can bring back up. Steve. Tony.” Bucky suggests.

“They’ll sense them as soon as we get to the door, we’re the original vampires. I already told you no.” You sternly respond.

“Come on, Y/N. It can’t be that bad. When’s the ball?” Bucky says as you start to get dressed.

“I didn’t talk long or care enough to ask,” You respond.

“Well, let’s ask. Again. I’d love to meet your family.” Bucky responds.

“I told you we’re not going.” You say starting to get mad. Bucky doesn’t respond, catching on to your anger towards him. You head out of your room and into the kitchen. You start to make yourself and Bucky some breakfast.

“Hey, you got some mail Y/N,” Peter Parker says walking with a box in hand.

“Thanks, Peter,” You say taking the box from him.

As soon as you look at the top of the box you see your family crest plastered on the top, “How did they find where I lived?” You whisper under your breath.

“Who?” Peter asks, clearly always wanting to know what going on.

“No one,” You say and set the box back down and finish cooking breakfast. You neatly arrange the food on plates and carry the box and breakfast back to your room.

You set the box down and the food on a table as Bucky finishes his shower. Letting the curiosity get the better of you, you decide to open the box. The first thing you see is a card. You open it to find “Hello sister. We would love to invite you and your boyfriend to our family ball on October 22nd at 7 pm in Mystic Falls. Although it would be lovely to join us before then. Hope you like your dress, Rebekah picked it out,” written on the inside.

Underneath the letter, you find a blue ball gown underneath. You quickly close the box as you hear the door to the bathroom open, “What’s that?” You hear Bucky’s voice behind you.

“Nothing. I made some breakfast. Still hot,” You push off his question.

“It’s something from your family, huh?” He says clearly noticing the “M” plastered on the top.

“Yes,” You sigh as you open the lid back up and hand him the letter. He reads it and pulls out the dress.

“This is a lovely dress. Wish I picked it out. So does this mean we’re going?” He asks clearly excited to go.

“I guess so. If they know where I live then. I rather go than put you guys in harm’s way,” You say reluctantly.

“We’re in the Avenger’s compound. I think we’re fine,” Bucky responds.

“Better safe than sorry,” You say as you put the dress back in a close the box.

“Well its the 20th today, we should probably head over tomorrow. Seeing as they want to see us beforehand.” Bucky says as he starts to eat.

“I guess we should pack and head out tonight,” You say as you start to eat as well.

You and Bucky spent the day packing up and preparing a quinjet to have Natasha fly you out. The next morning you, Bucky, and Natasha head to the quinjet to fly to Mystic Falls. You have Natasha land in the front driveway of the mansion that Elijah has told you about.

“Just call when you need to be picked up,” Natasha yelled as you and Bucky made your way out.

You and Bucky walk up to the front porch, “Prepare for all hell to break loose,” You say as you were about to open the door. But before your hand reached the knob someone opens the door from the inside.

“Baby sis! Welcome home!” Rebekah throws herself into your arms.

“Hey, Rebekah. This is Bucky, my boyfriend.” You say pulling yourself away.

“I’m Rebekah. Come meet everyone else,” She says as you and Bucky walk into the house.

She leads you to your room where you and Bucky set your stuff down. After you had set your stuff down, she leads you into the great room where you find a few of your other siblings. Niklaus, Kol, and Finn.

“Is Y/N here yet?” You hear Nik ask clearly sounding impatient.

“I’m right here,” You say as you round the corner.

“Ah! there is our lovely little sister. How are--” Nik says but stops clearly taking notice of Bucky.

“Niklaus, don’t,” You say knowing that he’ll burst into anger.

“You’re boyfriend is the Winter Soldier?!” Nik raises his voice.

“Nik! Please,” Rebekah yells trying to get him to calm down.

“Oh I better rip him from limb to limb,” Klaus says after pushing Bucky up against the wall behind you guys.

“Nik stop! You wanted us here and we are!” You explain.

“You are not allowed to be associated with this...this Russian Dog!” Klaus says flashing his amber eyes at Bucky.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Bucky says grabbing Nik’s hand with his metal arm.

“Oh, you think that you can beat a thousand-year-old hybrid with that little metal arm of yours, don’t you,” Nik says getting ready to bite Bucky.

“Nik, I swear to god. If you hurt him. I’m out of here!” I say pulling him off of Bucky. But clearly what you said didn’t work as Nik and Bucky get into a full-on fistfight. Nik rushes him around the room as they land blows on each other.

“Nik!” I yell and try to pull him off Bucky.

“Niklaus Mikaelson!” You hear a somewhat familiar voice say as they stop fighting. You turn your head to find your mother, Esther, and Elijah walk in. “Behave yourself. We have a guest,” She says calmly as Nik and Bucky let go of each other.

“Y/N, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Elijah says breaking the tension.

“Hey. Esther.” You say as you notice your mother looking towards you.

“It’s wonderful to see you again. As well as meet you--” She trails off clearly not knowing Bucky’s name.

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky finishes.

“Bucky. I’m glad you could join us. Now why don’t you two settle in and meet us back down here for lunch, and we can all get to know each other,” Esther says calmly.

You slowly leave the great room and head back up to the room you were given. You and Bucky start to unpack a few of your clothes.

“I’m sorry about that. My family is dysfunctional,” You say hanging the dress up.

“Well, you warned me and like I said. I can handle myself,” He responds back.

“Just keep a lookout. I don’t want you to get hurt,” You say as you hear a knock on your door. You open up to find none other than Niklaus, your older hybrid brother.

“Yes?” You say annoyed.

“Can you and I have a little talk?” Klaus says looking at Bucky behind you.

“Fine,” You sigh. He leads you to the library, far enough so no one could hear.

“What did you want to talk about?” You question as he closes the door.

“I am not letting you, my little sister, be associated with him. I knew I shouldn’t have let you leave,” Klaus says annoyed.

“I’m sorry that you seeing me happy upsets you. That me being with someone who actually makes me happy, upsets you,” You snap back.

“You know what he’s done right? He was a spy!” Klaus raises his voice.

“And now he’s my boyfriend and I love him!” You yell back.

“Nik, Y/N,” You and Nik turn your heads as you see Elijah walk in. “I think Y/N’s boyfriend is wonderful and will do anything to make her happy,” Elijah gives his opinion.

“Thank you. Now can we please have a normal, non-dysfunctional family event, please,” You say.

“But he was a Russian spy!” Nik says still upset.

“Not anymore. Now please Nik. Please behave yourself. I already don’t want to be here,” You sigh.

“Fine. For you, but if he tries anything. I’m killing him,” Nik says pointing to you after a few moments of thinking.

“Nik…” You trail off.

“Ok. Ok. Fine. I won’t touch him,” He says holding his hands up.

“Good, it’s settled. Now let’s go to lunch and get to know Bucky Barnes,” Elijah says before walking out the door.

A/N: Soo this turned out to be way longer than I expected. I loved everything about this request. It fuels my soul...tbh, like as soon as I started I really couldn't stop. I’m not sure if the ending is as fluffy/happy as you hoped for, but I felt like it fit for the characters. I hope this is what you were looking for and enjoy it!

Tagging: @commentaryfanfic

#the originals #the originals imagine #the originals rewrite #the originals fanfiction #niklaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #marvel cinematic universe #mcu x reader #the originals x reader #mcu imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader

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